The Princess Galva: A Romance

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE PASSING GUN

  The particular genius who designed the grounds of the Palace at Corbowas a nephew of the Estratos--a youth of an artistic but somewhat weakintellect and bizarre tastes.

  This was in the latter part of the seventeenth century, a period when awave of decadence had swept over the Court, a time of powder andpatches and red-heeled shoes--of mincing courtiers and doubtfulgallantries.

  Large, level lawns, and flower-bordered walks lay immediately beneaththe terrace which ran the length of the building at the back, andbeyond and at the sides, the royal horticulturist, with an eye,doubtless, to the doings of the times, had devised cunning shrubberiesand fascinating little arbours, the narrow paths twisting here andwinding there, a very maze of foliage, paths which had doubtlesshampered the movements of many an outraged husband.

  Here and there a weather-beaten, moss-patched statue or terminal peepedabove the greenery, a nymph with broken features, or a faun, the leerstill lingering on his discoloured face. One could imagine him againpricking his goat ears to catch an echo of the sounds he had listenedto in those quiet retreats in the days that were gone--the whisperedvows, the crunch of high-heeled shoes on the gravel--the oaths and theclash of rapiers.

  But Edward's party had more important affairs to hold their attentionthan the imagining of long-dead romances. They had found withoutdifficulty the entrance into the grounds, and now were making acautious way over the weed-grown paths.

  They had not drawn nearer to the Palace, but had threaded their waythrough the outer portions of the shrubberies, keeping near to theboundary wall, and coming, after some ten minutes' walk, upon thecottage of the friendly gardener.

  The duke stopped as the patch of yellow light from its windows cameinto view, then quietly led his companions to a stone bench that layalmost hidden in rhododendrons. Here, after seeing the two ladies madecomfortable, he left them. The moon had risen and the tangled foliageof the garden was all grey-green and shadow, through which the brokenstatuary rose, here and there, like pale ghosts of an evil past,looking down on the intruders within their domain of memories.

  Armand was away some time, and when he returned he had with him a tall,broad-shouldered man wearing the livery of the keepers of the royalgardens. He stood awkwardly before them, changing from one foot to theother and twisting his green cap nervously in his huge fingers. Theduke laid a hand affectionately on the big shoulder.

  "These ladies, Pia, and this gentleman, are those of whom we have beenspeaking." Then turning to Edward, he went on, "I have told this goodfellow everything, and although he seems dazed at the whole affair, heis with us heart and soul, as I knew he would be. He has no love forDasso--and he knows of others who will help us."

  At the mention of Dasso's name, the man had looked up, a mask ofmalignant hate, and the duke, noting it, had given a little smile ofsatisfaction.

  The cottage to which the party was conducted was a roomy building, butof a single storey. Pia's wife at once took charge of Anna and Galva,who were both now showing some signs of weariness. The good woman,noticing this, parted a curtain at the further end of the room, andtaking a lamp from a bracket, led the ladies to her bedchamber. Themen, left alone, were not slow to take the opportunity of discussingways and means.

  Their plan of action was a simple one. They were to lie hidden wherethey were until the king was in extremis. Pia, whose daughter wasemployed as a still-room maid at the Palace, would give theminformation as to the progress of the royal patient. In the mean timePia would see that the little staircase which Anna Paluda had used tosuch good purpose fifteen years before, was free of access, and thatthe door which gave on to the grounds, and which had fallen intodisuse, was cleared of the tangled creepers which he said now all butcovered it.

  At the first alarm that Enrico's death was imminent, they would makeall speed to this door, and hurry up to the room at the top of thestair, the little chamber behind the corridor wall, where ten or twelvepeople could wait in moderate comfort. Here they would be perfectlysecure, and even in the event of the report of the king's conditionproving false, they could but retire. At the sound of the first gunannouncing the death they would proceed to the king's ante-chamber,there to wait the advent of Dasso. At the least they would be twentyminutes before him.

  The ladies did not re-appear but sent their "good-nights" to the men bythe old dame, and the duke and Edward were conducted by their host to abarn which lay some ten yards to the rear of the cottage.

  Here Pia left them with a stable lantern, telling them that there wasno need for them to keep watch. One or other of his sons would beabout all night on guard, and nothing could happen without them beingmade aware of it.

  Nothing loath, after their long walk, the two men took off their outergarments, and rolling themselves in the horse blankets provided by Pia,threw themselves upon the pile of yellow straw which littered one endof the barn, and in a few moments they had fallen asleep.

  It was bright day when they awoke to find that Pia had entered thebarn, bringing with him a jug of steaming coffee and some toastedrolls, to which comforting fare the men devoted themselves whilst theywere making their toilet. This completed as well as the lack of razorsand other necessaries permitted, they followed their host across thecobbled yard to the great kitchen and living-room of the cottage.

  This was a cheerful apartment, whose lime-washed walls, pierced hereand there by little red-curtained windows, reflected the glow of theblazing pine logs in the open fire-place. The ceiling was high andpointed, being the entire height of the house, and from the blackrafters hung bulky hams and bunches of sweet-smelling herbs. At oneend a flight of rough oak steps led up to a little railed gallery thatprojected out over the fire-place, making a cosy settle, which onwinter evenings would accommodate the whole family. In this littlegallery were two or three rush-seated chairs, and in a niche in thewall a rather crudely coloured figure of the Virgin.

  The morning sunlight shone through the tiny leaded panes of thewindows, and glinted on the glass and earthenware laid out on the baretable, spotless as any tablecloth, and made play among the pewter andbrass on the great dresser. The cleanliness and order of Dame Pia'sroom made one imagine oneself in the kitchen of some strict housewifeon the Zuyder Zee.

  Anna and Galva, refreshed by their night's rest, were in the highest ofspirits, which Edward's suggestion that they should not go outside thehouse hardly lessened. It was so cosy in this sweet-smelling kitchen,and for the moment memories of Cornwall came back to them. Theyoccupied their time well, insisting on giving a helping hand at thehousework, much to the embarrassment of the good mistress of the house;and Galva could hardly repress a smile at the expression and the lowbow of reverence with which the old woman handed each utensil she hadwashed to her to wipe.

  But the work of one cottage in the hands of three capable women is soondone, and time began to hang heavily on Galva's hands, until, noticingDame Pia preparing a stew, nothing would satisfy her but that sheshould try her hand, with what materials were available, at a Cornishpasty. With sleeves rolled up above her dimpled elbows the princessset about her task, the housewife standing dutifully by, her aprontwisted between nervous fingers. It was a good pasty, and no doubt thedisinclination of the Pia family to eat heartily of it is explained bya little glass case on the dresser which to this day is shown to allvisitors, and which shelters the remains of the queen's culinary effort.

  Pia went about his work as usual, and Edward mooned rather unhappilyabout the big room. To the duke this enforced imprisonment was nohardship, and he would sit in the little window-seat watching Galva asshe flitted gracefully here and there in the performance of her tasks.No news came to them from the Palace, and as it grew dusk and thelights of Corbo shone in the sky, Edward could stand the inactivity nolonger, but disguising his appearance as well as might be, made his waythrough the Sebastin Park down to the town, choosing the streets thatlay near the cathedral in his search for in
formation.

  There was, however, nothing to be learnt from the loungers who weretaking their coffee and cognac at the little tables of the cafes, andEdward was soon anxious to get back to the cosy comfort of thegardener's cottage. As the chimes in the belfry above him told thehour of nine he rose from the corner of the obscure brasserie where hehad been taking his refreshment, and went out into the Cathedral Square.

  The air was chilly, and buttoning his coat closely round him he strodeout briskly in the direction of the park. He had left the town andentered the Sebastin Gates when he was aware of something unusual inthe air. From the direction of the boulevards came the subdued murmurof voices, that intense mumble that speaks of popular excitement.Above the confused sound Edward could make out the shouts of boyscrying their papers, and he remembered that it was at nine o'clock thatthe _Imparcial_ made its appearance.

  For a moment he stood in indecision. To return to the town meant theloss of half an hour--and surely that rustle of excitement denoted thatKing Enrico was dead or dying. What a fool he had been to leave thecottage. He might have thought that the absence of news during the daywas but the lull before the end, and now here he was out of the game,the success of which he had been playing so hard for.

  Pressing his hat firmly on his head, he set off running across thepark. After all, he might have been mistaken in imagining that thedeath had occurred. Surely he would have heard the gun. He knew thatthe custom was to--

  _Boom--m--m----_

  The sound echoed and reverberated over the woods and the open spacesround him. Edward slackened his pace, and swore softly to himself. Hehad come through the secret entrance to the grounds, and now paused amoment and took his bearings.

  Then, mending his pace, he ran on, avoiding the cottage, and makingdirect for the door at the foot of the staircase.