CHAPTER XI
THE ROAD TO POITIERS
We reined up on the edge of a shelving bank, and the Mable swirledbefore us. Beyond the alders on the opposite shore, but about a milehigher upstream, lay Richelieu. Late though it was there were manylights still burning, and now and then a fitful flare, that made thehouses stand out redly for a moment, led me to think that the place wasoccupied by troops or marauders; and if so, the result would in eithercase be the same for the town, or for ourselves if we ventured thither.It must be remembered that the King's Writ was waste-paper here. Allthat was ill was loose in the land, and though Montpensier from thenorth and Montluc from the south struck with heavy hands, theChristaudins--or Huguenots, as they called them--held all the countryfrom the chalks of Chatellerault to Saumur, and from Fontenaye toThouars and La Mothe St. Heraye.
Craning forward from the saddle I looked in the direction of the town,muttering to myself: "It may be out of the frying-pan into the fire."And as I did so mademoiselle exclaimed:
"Monsieur, why do we stay? That is Richelieu; and they follow us.Cross, cross!"
I made no answer; but Pierrebon dismounted, and placed his ear to theground.
"No one follows," he said after a little, rising to his feet; "theyhave had enough, these accursed bandits." And with this he mountedonce more.
"But why stay? See! there is the house of the Bailiff of Muisson--thattall one where the lights are burning at the windows."
"The Bailiff keeps late hours, mademoiselle." And even as I spoke abright flame suddenly flashed out, a ruddy light lit the walls, and thedistant shouting of many voices came to our ears.
"See!" I went on, "they are cooking a late supper with the doors. Theywill make breakfast with the rafters."
"What is happening? Oh! what an awful night this is!"
"What is happening, mademoiselle, I cannot tell; but it seems we haveonly escaped a great danger to meet with another. Richelieu is full ofarmed men. Who they are we do not know. At any rate, for your sake iffor nothing else, we will risk no more. We will cross, and make forRazines. There we will wait for daylight. Come!"
Leaning forward I took her horse by the bridle and we entered thestream.
"Courage!" said Pierrebon, who rode at her right; "courage,mademoiselle! It is not deep."
And she laughed, for she was not afraid, though the water bubbled andhissed around us, and once or twice the horses staggered and swayed, asthough they would have fallen. Finally we made the passage, andreached the opposite shore. Once there I led them at a trot along thewhite, dusty track. We were in the angle formed by the Mable and theVeude, and here, where Poitou slopes towards the sea, the country stillretains, with a roughness like unto that of Auvergne, all the freshnessof La Marche. Far south was a dreary plain, but around us the landbillowed into low hillocks, that stood over long stretches of stuntedforest.
We rode in silence, except when now and again I spoke a word of warningin regard to the state of the road, or to regulate the pace. I beganto wonder how long mademoiselle would hold out; and my doubts were soonset at rest. It was whilst crossing the almost dry bed of one of thesmall streams, spreading like veins over the country, that she suddenlyreined up.
"I cannot go farther," she said faintly; and calling a halt I lookedaround me. A little distance from the track, which wound before usamongst the glistening stones, lay a dark grove of trees. I pointed atthem.
"We will rest there, mademoiselle. 'Tis barely fifty paces; bear uptill then!" And dismounting I walked by the side of her horse.
Short as the distance was I was in doubt if she would hold out, and asI glanced at her I saw even by the moonlight how white and drawn washer face, and then she began to sway in her seat. Calling to Pierrebonto take the reins of her horse I tried to hold her in the saddle, but,feeling her slipping, I put my unhurt arm around her and lifted her tothe ground. For a little space she stood as one dazed, leaning againstme with closed eyes, and then with an effort recovered herself and drewback.
"I am able to walk, monsieur--I--how far is it?"
"Only a step now." And, still supporting her, I led her onward untilwe reached the trees.
"We are here, mademoiselle." And taking her into the shade of a hugewalnut-tree I flung my cloak on the grass, and made her sit thereon,whilst we hedged her around with saddlery. It was done as quickly aswe could, and the tired girl leaned back against the saddles utterlywearied and exhausted. I stood watching her for a little, and thenwith a whispered word to Pierrebon about the horses stepped aside. Icould do no more; but my heart was heavy within me, for I feared theresult of exposure for her.
A few yards off a withered tree stood apart, an outcast from itsfellows. The thought struck me as I went up to it, and tapped thedecayed trunk with my fingers: "You and I, my friend--we have seen ourpast, and are out of the pale now." With this I sat down on one of thehuge roots, that coiled like monstrous serpents at my feet, and leaningmy head against the tree prepared to wait for the dawn.
My arm, where Simon's sword had touched me, now began to remind me thatit needed attention. A low whistle brought Pierrebon to my side, andthe injury was looked to by such light as the moon gave. Fortunatelyit was but a slight flesh wound, and an improvised bandage soon gaverelief. So, resting it in a sling out of my scarf, I leaned back oncemore, and bade Pierrebon go and sleep.
For an hour or more I sat thus, watching and thinking. At last, risingslowly, I cautiously stepped up to mademoiselle and looked. She wasasleep; but so still did she lie, so pale and white did she look, thatI thought for a terrible moment that she was dead, and bent over her,placing my hand close to her lips to feel if she breathed. She moveduneasily as I did so, and I came back to my tree and to my thoughts.Finally, as the moon was sinking, I too slept, and as I slept Idreamed. I saw myself once more riding towards Orrain, and not alone,for mademoiselle was by my side. As we rode out of the pine-woods theChateau stood before us. There was the square keep, with itspepper-box towers, and bartizans overhanging the moat. There were thegrey ramparts tapestried in ivy, and the terraced gardens, where thepeacocks sunned themselves. All around us were happy faces, and joyousvoices welcoming us home--the home to which I had so long been dead;and it was mine now, and more besides--and then--I awoke with a startand looked around me. It was all so real.
"Tush!" I exclaimed, "have I slipped back into the days of enchantmentand the fay Melusine?" And rising I saw it was touching dawn, for theeast was red, and the morning star, Maguelonne--the shepherd's star, aswe call it in our hills--was burning bright. Mademoiselle andPierrebon were still asleep, and it was too early yet to awaken them.It would be time enough when the sun rose, and in the meanwhile I beganto reflect upon the best means of bestowing mademoiselle in safety.Razines was so near to Richelieu that if the latter were occupied bymarauders they would hardly have left the little hamlet alone, unless,indeed, they were Huguenots who were in Richelieu. In which eventRazines, which was known to be touched with the new heresy, wouldprobably be unharmed. This, however, did not make things any thebetter for us. I made up my mind that the best course would be to takemademoiselle on with me to Poitiers, and there hand her over to someresponsible person until her friends could be told of her. The verythought of this, however, jarred on me somehow, and I caught myselfbuilding castles in Spain again. "Come," I said to myself, "at yourage, _mon ami_, you should know better than to go off dreaming at thesight of a pretty face and the sound of a sweet voice." And then Ilaughed aloud at the thought that I knew but half her name--that at anyrate would be remedied soon. So, rising, for it was time now, I softlyawoke Pierrebon and mademoiselle, and in a short while we were oncemore on our way through the low hills that stretched through Lencloitre.
It was necessary at all hazards that we should get some food, as wellfor the horses as ourselves, and when we had gone a little way we sawRazines lying to our left. Here I halted, and, moving my party intocover behind some trees, I explained the p
osition, and beggedmademoiselle to remain with Pierrebon, whilst I went forward to thevillage to see how matters stood, adding that, if I did not returnwithin a short time, her best course would be to go on to Poitiers withPierrebon, and place herself in a convent there until she could writeto her friends.
"Monsieur," she answered, her colour rising, "you have risked enoughfor me already. I will not permit you to do this. If you go toRazines I go too."
I was delighted with her courage; but though I pressed her hard to dowhat I asked she was firm in her resolve. In this matter, however, Ihad no intention of yielding, and we might have been there half the dayhad we not seen coming up the road a couple of villagers with somecattle.
"We can at least inquire from them," I suggested, and she laughed.
"At the first sight of you, monsieur, they will be off. Let me go!"And suiting action to words she rode out towards the peasants. Therewas truth in her words, for as she rode out of the trees one of theyokels fled at once, but the other, seeing it was a woman, held hisground. A moment after they were in converse, and I saw a broad grinon the man's face. Then mademoiselle beckoned to us, and we cameforth. On our appearance the peasant seemed inclined to follow hisfriend's example; but we somehow managed to reassure him, and gatheredthat, except for a small party of harmless travellers who were at theGreen Man, Razines was empty.
"You are luckier than they are at Richelieu, my friend," I said.
"Then Richelieu is taken?"
"Apparently so."
"Hola! for Monsieur de Ganache!" And he flung his cap in the air."Ha, monsieur, the Vicomte passed here but yesterday evening, withsixty lances at his back, to hang the Guidon. Has he done so?"
"I know not," I answered; and turning to mademoiselle, said: "We havehad a lucky escape."
"Indeed! How, monsieur?"
"Because M. de Ganache is known to be one of the fiercest of theHuguenot leaders, and spares nothing."
"We have to thank those who made him so, monsieur; and at any rate hehas spared Razines."
I looked at her in surprise. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks werehot, and I could scarce forbear a smile at the thought that it was alittle rebel I had in my charge, and turning the talk, said:
"We may go on to the Green Man in safety, I think." And, biddingPierrebon give the yokel a coin, we pressed forwards. It was not,however, without another careful scrutiny that I led the way into thevillage, where we were soon within the doors of the inn. It was a poorplace, but host and hostess were kindly; and did the best they could.In the public room was the party of travellers whom the peasant hadmentioned. They consisted of a gentleman and his wife, whose dress andair betokened them people of rank, whilst a little apart, at the lowerend of the room, were one or two others--their servants. The glitterof a sapphire ring on the stranger's hand attracted my attention, andit was as if he noticed the casual glance I cast at it, for he turnedhis hand so as to hide the ring. This set me observing him morenarrowly, and though it was years since I had seen him I was certain itwas the Cardinal of Chatillon. It was Odet de Coligny himself, not adoubt of it, and the lady was the noble woman who had sacrificed somuch for his sake. He had married her--prince of the Church though hewas--and had openly thrown in his lot with those of the New Faith.
They in their turn looked at us with interest as we entered, and onseeing mademoiselle the lady looked as if she knew her, and seemed asif she were about to speak, but Chatillon said something in a low voicewhich restrained her. On the other hand, mademoiselle seemed flurried,and kept her face averted. I could not but think they knew each other;but it was no time to ask questions, so I said nothing, but quietly setabout arranging for our comforts. Mademoiselle retired to her room atonce, the landlady fussing after her, and after having assistedPierrebon to see to the horses I myself went to rest. I must haveslept for a good four hours, and on awakening found it was high noon.Down I came, and entering the public room of the inn found it empty. Iwent on towards the stables, where Pierrebon was still asleep near thehorses. There was no sign of mademoiselle, and thinking she was stillresting I let Pierrebon alone, and returning into the inn sat near awindow, awaiting my charge's appearance. Had I been alone I would havepressed on to Poitiers, and reached it by nightfall; but as it was itwould be better to wait till well on in the afternoon, whenmademoiselle, being refreshed, would no doubt be able to travel. Weshould halt at Miribeau for the night, and make Poitiers the next day.So I let some time go past, and then, feeling dull, called to the host,and invited him to share a bottle of wine with me. He came, as itseemed, somewhat unwillingly; but soon we were in talk, and, forsomething to say, I inquired about the other travellers. Here hisembarrassment increased, and he stammered out that they had gone on toRichelieu about two hours ago; and then, as if taking a suddenresolution, fumbled in his pocket, and drew forth a letter, which hehanded to me, saying: "For you, monsieur."
I tore open the cover, and read:
"MONSIEUR,--I owe you so much that I know not how to thank you or howto explain my leaving you as I do now. I feel sure you would like toknow that I am going of my own free will, and with friends. Monsieur,we will meet again I know, and then, perhaps, I shall be in a positionto show you that I can be grateful. DIANE."
I read to the end without a word, and glanced at my host. He saw andunderstood the question in my eyes.
"Mademoiselle gave it to me with her own hands. I--I could not preventher leaving," he added, with fear in his voice. The poor wretch wasalmost overcome with terror at the thought that I might turn againsthim in my wrath.
"Thank you; that is enough." And crushing the letter in my hand I roseand walked out. I was hurt and indignant, but after a little I cooleddown. After all, her proper place was with her friends. I had buthelped her on her way, and there was an end of it. So I swallowed myill-humour as best I could, and, to his astonishment, making thelandlord of the inn a present of the horse we had taken at LeJaquemart, Pierrebon and I went on our way.