The Abbess Of Vlaye

  CHAPTER IX.

  SPEEDY JUSTICE.

  The elder of the Villeneuve brothers was less happy than Roger, inthat the Vicomte had passed to him a portion of his crabbed nature.Something of the bitterness, something of the hardness of the fatherlurked in the son; who in the like unfortunate circumstances mighthave grown to be such another as his sire, but with more happysurroundings and a better fate still had it in him to become agenerous and kindly gentleman.

  It was this latent crabbedness that had kept the injustice of his lotever before his gaze. Roger bore lightly with his heavier burden, andonly the patient sweetness of his eyes told tales. Bonne was almostcontent; if she fretted it was for others, and if she dreamed of theancient glories of the house, it was not for the stiff brocades andjewelled stomacher of her grandame that she pined.

  But with Charles it was otherwise. The honour of the family was moreto him, for he was the heir. Its dignity and welfare were his in aparticular sense; and had he been of the most easy disposition, hemust still have found it hard to see all passing; to see the end, andto stand by with folded arms. But when to the misery of inaction andthe hopelessness of the outlook were added the Vicomte's daily andhourly taunts, and all fell on a nature that had in it the seeds ofunhappiness, what wonder if the young man broke away and sought inaction, however desperate, a remedy for his pains?

  A step which he would now have given the world to undo. As he rode aprisoner along the familiar track, which he had trodden a thousandtimes in freedom and safety, the iron entered into his soul. The sunshone, the glades were green, in a hundred brakes the birds sang, inshady dells and under oaks the dew sparkled; but he rode, his feetfastened under his horse's belly, his face set towards Vlaye. In anhour the dungeon door would close on him. He would have given theworld, had it been his, to undo the step.

  Not that he feared the dungeon so much, or even death; though thethought of death, amid the woodland beauty of this June day, carried achill all its own, and death comes cold to him who awaits it with tiedhands. But he could have faced death cheerfully--or he thought so--hadhe fallen into a stranger's power; had the victory not been soimmediately, so easily, so completely with Vlaye--whom he hated. To bedragged thus before his foe, to read in that sneering face thecontempt which events had justified, to lie at his mercy who hadtreated him as a silly clownish lad, to be subjected, may-be, to somecontemptuous degrading punishment--this was a prospect worse thandeath, a prospect maddening, insupportable! Therefore he looked on thewoodland with eyes of despair, and now and again, in fits of revolt,had much ado not to fight with his bonds, or hurl unmanly insults athis captors.

  They, for their part, took little heed of him. They had not bound hishands, but had tied the reins of his horse to one of their saddles,and, satisfied with this precaution, they left him to his reflections.By-and-by those reflections turned, as the thoughts of all captivesturn, to the chance of escape; and he marked that the men--theynumbered five--seemed to be occupied with something which interestedthem more than their prisoner. What it was, of what nature or kind, hehad no notion; but he observed that as surely as they recalled theirduty and drew round him, so surely did the lapse of two or threeminutes find them dispersed again in pairs--it might be behind, itmight be before him.

  When this happened they talked low, but with an absorption so entirethat once he saw a man jam his knee against a sapling which he failedto see, though it stood in his path; and once a man's hat was struckfrom his head by a bough which he might have avoided by stooping.

  Naturally the trooper to whose saddle he was attached had no part inthese conferences. And by-and-by this man, a grizzled, thick-setfellow with small eyes, grew impatient, and even, it seemed,suspicious. For a time he vented his dissatisfaction in grunts andlooks, but at last, when the four others had got together and werecolloguing with heads so close that a saddle-cloth would have coveredthem, he could bear it no longer.

  "Come, enough of that!" he cried surlily. "One of you take him, andlet me hear what you have settled. I'd like my say as well asanother."

  "Ay, ay, Baptist," one of the four answered. "In a minute, my lad."

  Baptist swore under his breath. Still he waited, and by-and-by one ofthe men came grudgingly back, took over the prisoner, and sufferedBaptist to join the council. But Villeneuve, whose attention was nowroused, noted that this man also, after an interval, became restless.He watched his comrades with jealous eyes, and from time to time hepressed nearer, as if he would fain surprise their talk. Things werein this position when the party arrived at a brook, bordered on eitherside by willow beds and rushes, and passable at a tiny ford. Beyondthe brook the hill rose suddenly and steeply. Charles knew the placeas he knew his hand, and that from the brook the track wound upthrough the brushwood to a nick in the summit of the hill, whenceVlaye could be seen a league below.

  The four troopers paused at the ford, and letting their horses drink,permitted the prisoner and his guard to come up. The man they calledBaptist approached the latter. "If you will wait here," he said, witha look of meaning, "we'll look to the--you know what."

  "I? No, cursed if I do!" the man answered plumply, his swarthy facegrowing dark. "I'm not a fool!"

  "Then how in the devil's name are we to do it?" Baptist retorted withirritation.

  "Stay yourself and take care of him!"

  "And let you find the stuff!" with an ugly look. "A nice reckoning Ishould get afterwards."

  "Well, I won't stay, that's flat!"

  The men looked at one another, and their lowering glances disclosedtheir embarrassment. The prisoner could make no guess at the subjectof discussion, but he saw that they were verging on a quarrel, and hisheart beat fast. Given the slightest chance he was resolved to takeit. But, that his thoughts might not be read, he kept his eyes on theground, and feigned a sullenness which he no longer felt.

  Suddenly, "Tie him to a tree!" muttered one of the men with a sidelonglook at him.

  "And leave him?"

  "Ay, why not?"

  "Why not?" Baptist, the eldest of the men, rejoined with an oath."Because if harm happen to him, it will be I will pay for it, and notyou! That is why not!"

  "Tie him well and what can happen?" the other retorted. And then,"Must risk something, Baptist," he added with a grin, which showedthat he saw his advantage, "since you are in charge."

  The secret was simple. The men had got wind that morning of a saddleand saddle-bags--and a dead horse, but that counted for nothing--thatin the search after the attack on the Countess's party had beenoverlooked in the scrub. Detached to guard the prisoner to Vlaye theyhad grinned at the chance of forestalling their comrades and gainingwhat there was to gain; which fancy, ever sanguine, painted in therichest colours. But the five could neither trust one another northeir prisoner; for Charles might inform Vlaye, and in that case theywould not only lose the spoil but taste the strapado--the Captain ofVlaye permitting but one robber in his band. Hence they stood in theposition of the ass between two bundles of hay, and dared not leavetheir prisoner, nor would leave the spoil.

  At length, after some debate, made up in the main of oaths, "Draw lotswho stays!" one suggested.

  "We have no cards."

  "There are other ways."

  "Well," said he who had charge of the prisoner, "whose horse stopsdrinking first--let him stay!"

  "Oh, yes!" retorted Baptist. "And we have watered our horses and youhave not!"

  The man grinned feebly; the others laughed. "Well," he said, "do youhit on something then! You think yourself clever."

  Villeneuve bethought him of the prince who set, his guards to race,and, when their horses were spent, galloped away laughing. But hedared not suggest that, though he tingled with anxiety. "Who sees aheron first," said one.

  But "Pooh!" with a grin, "we are all liars!" put an end to that.

  "Well," said Baptist sulkily, "if we stay here a while longer we shallall lie for nothing, for we shall have the
Captain upon us."

  Thus spurred a man had an idea that seemed fair. "We've no twohorses alike," he said. "Let us pluck a hair from the tail of each.He"--pointing to Charles--"shall draw one with his eyes shut, andwhoever is drawn shall stay on guard."

  They agreed to this, and Charles, being applied to, consented with asulky air to play his part. The hairs were plucked, a grey, achestnut, a bay, a black, and a sorrel; and the prisoner, foreseeingthat he would be left with a single trooper, and determined in thatcase to essay escape, shut his eyes and felt for the five hairs, andselected one. The man drawn was the man who had last had him incharge, and to whose saddle his reins were still attached.

  The man cursed his ill-fortune; the others laughed. "All the same," hecried, "if you play me false you'll laugh on the other side of yourfaces!"

  "Tut, tut, Martin!" they jeered in answer. "Have no fear!" And theyscarce made a secret of their intention to cheat him.

  The four turned, laughing, and plunged into the undergrowth whichclothed the hill. Still their course could be traced by the snappingof dry sticks, the scramble of a horse on a steep place, or the scarednotes of blackbirds, fleeing low among the bushes. Slowly Martin'seyes followed their progress along the hill, and as his eyes moved, hemoved also, foot by foot, through the brook, glaring, listening, andnow and then muttering threats in his beard.

  Had he glanced round once, however impatiently, and seen the pale faceand feverish eyes at his elbow, he had taken the alarm. Charles knewthat the thing must be done now or not at all; and that there must beone critical moment. If nerve failed him then, or the man turned, oraught happened to thwart his purpose midway, he had far better haveleft the thing untried.

  Now or not at all! He glanced over his shoulder and saw the sunshining on the flat rushy plat beyond the ford, which the horses' feethad fouled while their riders debated. He saw no sign of Vlaye comingup, nor anything to alarm him. The road was clear were he once free.Martin's horse had stepped from the water, his own was in act tofollow, his guard sat, therefore, a little higher than himself; in aflash he stooped, seized the other's boot, and with a desperate heaveflung him over on the off side.

  He clutched, as the man fell, at his reins; they were life or death tohim. But though the fellow let them slip, the frightened horse sprangaside, and swung them out of reach. There remained but one thing hecould do; he struck his own horse in the hope it would run away anddrag the other with it.

  But the other, rearing and plunging, backed from him, and the two,pulling in different directions, held their ground until the trooperhad risen, run to his horse's head and caught the reins. "Body ofSatan!" he panted with a pale scowl; the fall had shaken him. "I'llhave your blood for this! Quiet, beast! Quiet!"

  In his passion he struck the horse on the head; an act which carriedits punishment. The beast backed from him and dragged him, stillclinging to the reins, into the brook. In a moment the two horses wereplunging about in the water, and he following them was knee deep.Unfortunately Villeneuve was helpless. All he could do was to strikehis horse and excite it further. But the man would not let go, and thehorses, fastened together, circled round one another until thetrooper, notwithstanding their movements, managed to shorten thereins, and at last got his horse by the bit.

  "Curse you!" he said again. "Now I've got you! And in a minute, mylad, I'll make you pay for this!"

  But Villeneuve, seeing defeat stare him in the face, had made use ofthe last few seconds. He had loosened the stirrup-leather from thetrooper's saddle, and as the fellow, thinking the struggle over,grinned at him, he swung the heavy iron in the air, and brought itdown on the beast's withers. It leapt forward, maddened by pain,dashed the man to the ground, and dragging Villeneuve's horse with it,whether it would or no, in a moment both were clear of the brook andplunging along the bank.

  Villeneuve struck the horses again to urge them forward; but only tolearn that which he should have recognised before; that to escape on ahorse, fastened to a second, over difficult ground and through a wood,was not possible. Half-maddened, half-bewildered, they bore him into amass of thorns and bushes. It was all he could do to guard his eyesand head, more than they could do to keep their feet. A moment and atough sapling intervened, the rein which joined them snapped, and hishorse, giving to the tug at its mouth, fell on its near shoulder.

  Bound to his saddle, he could not save himself, but fortunately thesoil was soft, the leg that was under the horse was not broken, andfor a moment the animal made no effort to rise. Villeneuve, despair inhis heart, and the sweat running down his face, had no power to rise.Nor would the power have availed him, for before he could have gone adozen paces through the tangle of thorns, the troopers, some onhorseback, and some on foot, were on him.

  The man from whom he had escaped was a couple of paces in front of theothers. He had snatched up a stick, and black with rage, raised it tostrike the prostrate horse. Had the blow fallen and the horsestruggled to his feet, Villeneuve must have been trampled. FortunatelyBaptist was in time to catch the man's arm and stay the blow. "Fool!"he said. "Do you want to kill the man?"

  "Ay, by Heaven!" the fellow shrieked. "He nearly killed me!"

  "Well, you'll not do it!" Baptist retorted, and he pushed him back."Do you hear? I have no mind to account for his loss to the Captain,if you have."

  "Do you think that I am going to be pitched on my head by aJack-a-dandy like that," the fellow snarled, "and do naught? And whereis my share?"

  The grizzled man stooped, and, while one of his comrades held down thehorse's head, untied Villeneuve's feet, and drew him from under thebeast. "Share?" he answered with a sneer as he rose. "What time had weto find the thing?"

  "You have not found it?"

  "No--thanks to you! What kind of a guard do you call yourself?"Baptist continued ferociously. "By this time, had you done your part,we had done ours! If there is to be any accounting, you'll account tous!"

  "Ay," the others cried, "Baptist is right, my lad!"

  The man, seeing himself outnumbered, cast a devilish look at them. Heturned on his heel. When he was gone a couple of paces, "Very good,"he said over his shoulder, "but when I get you alone----"

  "You!" Baptist roared, and took three strides towards him. "You, whenyou get me alone! Stand to me now, then, and let them see what youwill do!"

  But the malcontent, with the same look of hate, continued to retreat.Baptist jeered. "That is better!" he said. "But we knew what you werebefore! Now, lads, to horse, we've lost time enough!"

  Flinging a mocking laugh after the craven the troopers turned. But tomeet with a surprise. By their horses' heads stood a strange mansmiling at them. "I arrest all here!" he said quietly. He had nothingbut a riding switch in his hand, and Villeneuve's eyes opened wide ashe recognised in him the guest of the Tower Chamber. "In the King'sname, lay down your arms!"

  They stared at him as if he had fallen from the skies. Even Baptistlost the golden moment, and, in place of flinging himself upon thestranger, repeated, "Lay down our arms? Who, in the name of thunder,are you?"

  "No matter!" the other answered. "You are surrounded, my man. See! Andsee!" He pointed in two directions with his switch.

  Baptist glared through the bushes, and saw eight or ten horsemenposted along the hill-side above him. He looked across the brook, andthere also were two or three stalwart figures, seated motionless intheir saddles.

  The others looked helplessly to Baptist. "Understand," he said, withuneasy defiance. "You will answer for this. We are the Captain ofVlaye's men!"

  "I know naught of the Captain of Vlaye," was the stern reply."Surrender, and your lives shall be spared. Resist, and your blood beon your own heads!"

  Baptist counted heads rapidly, and saw that he was outnumbered. Hegave the word, and after one fashion or another, some recklessly, somestolidly, the men threw down their arms. "Only--you will answer forthis!" Baptist repeated.

  "I shall answer for it," des Ageaux replied gravely. "In the meantimeI desire a word with your
prisoner. M. de Villeneuve, this way if youplease."

  He was proceeding to lead Charles a little apart. But his back had notbeen turned three seconds when a thing happened. The man who had slunkaway before Baptist's challenge had got to horse unnoticed. At alittle distance from the others, he had not surrendered his arms.Whether he could not from where he was see the horsemen who guardedthe further side of the brook, and so thought escape in that directionopen, or he could not resist the temptation to wreak his spite onBaptist at all risks, he chose this moment to ride up behind him, drawa pistol from the holster, and fire it into the unfortunate man'sback. Then with a yell that echoed his victim's death-cry he crashedthrough the undergrowth in the direction of the brook.

  But already, "Seize him! Seize him!" rose above the wood in a dozenvoices. "On your life, seize him!"

  The order was executed almost as soon as uttered. As the horse leapingthe water alighted on the lower bank, it swerved to avoid a trooperwho barred the way. The turn surprised the rider; he lost his balance.Before he could get back into his seat, a trooper knocked him from thesaddle with the flat of his sword. In a trice he was seized, disarmed,and dragged across the brook.

  But by that time Baptist, with three slugs under his shoulder-blade,lay still among the moss and briars, the hand that had beaten time toa thousand camp-ditties in a thousand quarters from Fontarabie toFlanders flung nerveless beside a wood-wren's nest. As they gatheredround him Charles, who had never seen a violent death, gazed on thelimp form with a pale face, questioning, with that wonder which thethoughtful of all times have felt, whither the mind that a minutebefore looked from those sightless eyes had taken its flight.

  He was roused by the Lieutenant's voice, speaking in tones measuredand stern as fate. "Let him have five minutes," he said, "andthen--that tree will be best!"

  They began to drag the wretch, now pale as ashes, in the directionindicated. Half way to the tree the man began to struggle, breakinginto piercing shrieks that he was Vlaye's man, that they had noright----

  "Stay, right he shall have!" des Ageaux cried solemnly. "He is judgedand doomed by me, Governor of Perigord, for murder in Curia. In theKing's name! Now take him!"

  The wretch was dragged off, his judge to all appearance deaf to hiscries. But Charles could close neither his ears nor his heart. The manhad earned his doom richly. But to stand by while a fellow-creature,vainly shrieking for mercy, mercy, was strangled within his hearing,turned him sick and faint.

  Des Ageaux read his thoughts. "To spare here were to kill there," hesaid coldly. "Learn, my friend, that to rule men is no work for a softheart or a gentle hand. But you are shaken. Come this way," hecontinued in a different tone; "you will be the better for some wine."He took out a flask and gave it to Charles, who, excessively thirstynow he thought of it, drank greedily. "That is better," des Ageauxwent on, seeing the colour return to his cheeks. "Now I wish forinformation. Where are the nearest Crocans?"

  The young man's face fell. "The nearest Crocans?" he mutteredmechanically.

  "Yes."

  "I----"

  "Are there any within three hours' ride of us?"

  But Charles had by this time pulled himself together. He held out hiswrists. "I am your prisoner," he said. "Call up your men and bind me.You can do with me as you please. But I am a Villeneuve, and I do notbetray."

  "Not even----"

  "You saw me turn pale?" the young man continued. "Believe me, I canbear to go to the tree better than to see another dragged there!"

  Des Ageaux smiled. "Nay, but you mistake me, M. de Villenueve," hesaid. "I ask you to betray no one. It is I who wish to enlist withyou."

  "With us?" Charles exclaimed. And he stared in bewilderment.

  "With you. In fact you see before you," des Ageaux continued, his eyestwinkling, his hand stroking his short beard, "a Crocan. Frankly, andto be quite plain, I want their help; a little later my help may savethem. They fear an attack by the Captain of Vlaye? I am prepared toaid them against him. Afterwards----"

  "Ay, afterwards."

  "If they will hear reason, what can be done in their behalf I will do!But there must be no Jacquerie, no burning, and no plundering. In aword," with a flitting smile, "it is now for the Crocans to saywhether the Captain of Vlaye shall earn the King's pardon by quellingthem--or they by quelling him."

  "But you are the Governor of Perigord?" Charles exclaimed.

  "I am the King's Lieutenant in Perigord, which is the same thing."

  "And in this business?"

  "I am in the position of the finger which is set between the doorand the jamb! But no matter for that, you will not understand. Onlydo you tell me where these Crocans lie, and we will visit them if itcan be done before night. To-night I must be back"--with a peculiarlook--"for I have other business."

  Charles told him, and with joy. Ay, with joy. As a sail to theraft-borne seaman awash in the Biscayan Gulf, or a fountain to theparched wanderer in La Mancha, this and more to him was the prospectsuddenly opened before his eyes. To be snatched at a word from thefalse position in which he had placed himself, and from which naughtshort of a miracle could save him! To find for ally, instead of thebroken farmers and ruined clowns, the governor of a great province! Tobe free to carve his fortune with his right hand where he would!These, indeed, were blessings that a minute before had seemed as farfrom him as home from the seaman who feels his craft settling down ina shoreless water.