The Chevalier d'Auriac

  THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC

  CHAPTER I

  THE JUSTICE OF M. DE RONE

  '_Mille diables!_ Lost again! The devil runs in those dice!' and deGomeron, with an impatient sweep of his hand, scattered the littlespotted cubes on to the floor of the deserted and half-ruined hut,wherein we were beguiling the weariness of our picket duty before LaFere, with a shake of our elbows, and a few flagons of wine, capturedfrom Monsieur the King of Navarre, as we, in our folly, called himstill.

  A few days before we had cut out a convoy which the Bearnais wassending into the beleaguered town. Some of the good things the convoybore found their way to the outposts; and on the night I speak of wehad made such play with our goblets that it was as if a swarm of beesbuzzed in my head. As for de Gomeron, he was in no better case, andhis sun-tanned face was burning a purple red with anger at his lossesand the strength of the d'Arbois, both of which combined to give amore than usually sinister look to his grim and lowering features. Inshort, we were each of us in a condition ripe for any mischief: I hotwith wine and the fire of five-and-twenty years, and de Gomeronsullenly drunk, a restrained fury smouldering in his eyes.

  We had been playing by the light of a horn lantern, and as the flameof it flickered to and fro in the wind, which bustled in uncheckedthrough a wide gap in the wall of the hut, where the remains of a doorclung to a bent and twisted hinge, the shadow of de Gomeron on thewall behind him moved its huge outlines uneasily, although the manhimself sat silent and still, and there was no word spoken between us.Hideous and distorted, this phantom on the wall may have been the soulof de Gomeron, stolen out of the man's body and now hovering behindhim, instinct with evil; and this conceit of mine began to appear areality, when I turned my glance at the still figure of my companion,showing no sign of life, except in the sombre glitter of the eyes thatgazed at me steadily.

  I knew little of de Gomeron, except that he was of the Camargue, andhad followed the fortunes of d'Aumale from Arques to Ivry, from Ivryto the Exile in the Low Countries, and that he held a commission fromthe duke as captain in his guards. He carried a 'de' before his name,but none of us could say where his lands lay, or of what family hecame; and it was shrewdly suspected that he was one of those weedstossed up by the storms of the times from the deep where they shouldhave rotted for ever. There were many such as he, _canaille_ who hadrisen from the ranks; but none who bore de Gomeron's reputation forintrepid courage and pitiless cruelty, and even the hardened veteransof Velasco spoke with lower tones when they told of his deeds at thesack of Dourlens and the pillage of Ham. Of our personal relations itis enough to say that we hated each other, and would have crossedswords ere now but for the iron discipline maintained by de Rone--adiscipline the bouquet of which I had already scented, having escapedby the skin of my teeth after my affair with de Gonnor, who trod on mytoe at the General's levee, and was run through the ribs at sunrisethe next morning, near the pollard elms, hard by the Red Mill on theleft bank of the Serre.

  Up to the time this occurred I had been attached to de Rone's staff,with ten or twelve other young gentlemen whose pedigrees were as longas their swords; but after the accident to de Gonnor--my foot slippedand I thrust a half inch too low--I was sent with the stormers toLaon, and then banished to the outposts, thinking myself lucky toescape with that.

  At any rate, the outpost was under my command. Imagine, therefore, mydisgust when I found that de Gomeron had been detached to examine intoand report upon my charge. He did this moreover in so offensive amanner, hectoring here and hectoring there, that I could barelyrestrain myself from parading him on the stretch of turf behind thethorn hedge that fenced in the enclosure to the hovel. The very sightof that turf used to tempt me. It was so soft and springy, so leveland true, with no cross shadows of tree trunks or mottled reflectionsof foliage to spoil a thrust in tierce.

  Our feelings towards each other being as they were, it would seem oddthat we should have diced and drunk together; but the situation wasone of armed peace; and, besides, time had to be killed, as for thepast week M. de Rethelois, formerly as lively as a cricket, had kepthimself close as a nun of Port Royal behind the walls of La Fere, andaffairs were ineffably dull. I was certain, however, that we shouldsoon break into open quarrel, and on this night, whether it was deGomeron's manner of losing or whether it was the d'Arbois I cannottell, but I felt a mad anger against the man as he sat staring at me,and it was all I could do to restrain myself from flinging the lees ofthe wine in my glass in his face and abiding the result. I held myselfin with an effort, drumming with my fingers on the table the while,and at last he spoke in an abrupt and jarring voice:

  'What says the score?'

  I looked at the once blank card on which I had jotted down the pointsand passed it to him with the answer: 'One hundred and twenty livresof Paris, M. Gomeron.'

  '_De_ Gomeron, if you please, M. d'Auriac. Here is your money, see itis not Tournois,' and he slid a rouleau across the table towards me. Imade no effort to take it; but, looking at the man with a sneer, gaveanswer: 'I was not aware that they used the _de_ in the Camargue,monsieur.'

  'Young fool!' I heard him mutter between his teeth, and then aloud,'Your education needs extension, Chevalier.'

  'There is space enough without.' I answered hotly, laying my hand onmy sword, 'and no time like the present; the moon is at her full andstands perfectly.' We sprang to our feet at these words and stoodfacing each other. All thought of de Rone had flown from my mind, myone desire was to be face to face with the man on that patch of turf._Peste!_ I had much to learn in those days!

  We stood thus for a second, and then a short mirthless 'Ha! ha!' burstfrom de Gomeron, and he made a turn to the corner of the room wherehis rapier leaned against the wall. It was at the moment of thisaction that we heard the quick challenge of the sentry outside, thepassword as sharply answered, and the tramp of feet.

  The same idea flashed through both our minds--it must be the General,and de Gomeron gave expression to the thought.

  '_Corbleu!_ de Rone perhaps--the old bat on the wing. We must deferthe lesson, Chevalier.'

  I bowed and bit my lips in silence; there followed a shuffling offeet, and before a man could count two, Nicholas, the sergeant of ourpicket, with a file of men entered the hut, thrusting a couple ofprisoners, a man and a woman, before them.

  'Two birds from La Fere, my captain,' and Nicholas with a salute to deGomeron pointed to his prize. 'We took them,' he ran on, 'at the fordnear the Red Mill, and but for the moon they would have gone free;spies no doubt. The old one is M. le Mouchard, I swear. There is foxin every line of his face; and as for Madame there--so the oldgentleman calls her--in time I warrant she will learn to love the campof the Holy League,' and the sergeant pushed the lantern so that itshone full on the lady's face. A curious light came into de Gomeron'seyes as he looked at her, and she shrank back at the sergeant's wordsand action, whilst the old man strained at the cords that bound hiswrists till the lines of the blue veins stood high out on hisforehead. The soldiers had shown Madame this kindness, that she wasunbound; but her hood had fallen back, loosening in its fall a mass ofchestnut hair, and from this framework her eyes glanced from one toanother of us, half in fear and half in anger.

  'Messieurs!' There was a tremble in the sweet voice, and there waslight enough to see her colour come and go. 'Messieurs! That man,' shemade a little gesture of infinite disdain towards Nicholas, 'is lying.We are no spies. It is true we are from La Fere, but all that we didwas to try and escape thence----'

  'To the camp of the Bearnais--eh, madame?' interrupted de Gomeron.

  'To the camp of the King of France,' she flashed back at him, a redspot rising on each cheek. 'Messieurs!' she went on, 'you aregentlemen, are you not? You will let us go. Surely the Holy Leaguewars not with women and old men?'

  The mention of the League stirred her companion and he gave tongue:

  'The Holy League!' he exclaimed with a s
avage scorn. 'Madame, thoughwe stand delivered unto these sons of Belial, I must speak, for myheart is full. Yea! Shall my lips be sealed before the enemies of theLord! The Holy League! Ha! ha! There is no Holy League. It died atIvry. There did the Lord God break it clean, as of old. He shatteredthe Amorites of the mountains. Lo! Even now His own champion is athand, and ere the morrow's sun sets he shall smite these men of sinhip and thigh, as when the Chosen slew His enemies in Gibeon.'

  '_Corps du diable!_ A rope for the old Huguenot!' exclaimed Nicholas.

  'Thou swearest rightly, villain,' and the fanatic glared at thesergeant with fierce eyes. 'Swear ever so by thy master, for thou artin truth a limb of the body of Sin.'

  'Thou shalt roast like a chestnut over a log fire for this,' roaredNicholas, shaking his halberd at his adversary. 'And thou in Hell,'was the undaunted reply; 'and the smell of thy burning will be as thescent of a savoury bakemeat to the Lord my God.'

  So savagely prophetic was his tone; so fierce a glance did the boundHuguenot cast at Nicholas that it burnt to cinders any reply he mighthave had ready and reduced him to a speechless fury.

  Madame shivered slightly; but meeting my eyes and the repressed laughin them, a faint smile parted her lips. This was for an instant only,and her face was grave enough as she turned to her companion, speakingwith a quiet dignity, 'There is a time for everything, _mon pere_--atpresent your speech is a trifle out of place.'

  The beetle brows of the Huguenot met together as he gave reply--

  'There is no place which is out of place to testify----' but here deGomeron cut in with his quick stern voice, 'Be silent, sir! or else agag will stop your tongue,' and then with a bow, 'Madame, it goes tomy heart to detain you; but war is war, and we have no option. Willyou not be seated? All that this poor hut affords is yours,' and hebent low again, perhaps to hide the expression in his eyes.

  She made no effort to take the chair he offered, but burst outpassionately:

  'Monsieur, I see you command here, and it is to you to whom I mustappeal. Monsieur, I give you my word of honour we are no spies. Therules of war allow the ransom of prisoners, and anything you name willbe paid. Monsieur, I pray you let us go.'

  Whilst she spoke my glance rested on de Gomeron's face, and I saw thathis eyes were drinking in her beauty greedily, and there was a look inthem that recalled to my mind the stories of the sack of Ham.

  As she finished her appeal Madame turned towards the captain with agesture of entreaty; but in this movement she too saw that in hisvoice and manner which paled her cheek to marble, and she made ahalf-irresolute step towards her companion as if for protection. DeGomeron observed this, and laughed under his heavy black moustache,and I felt that the strong wine and his evil heart were moving him toan atrocious deed.

  '_Vertu de Dieu!_ Madame, but there are some things which have noprice! And there is no ransom you could name which would tempt Adam deGomeron to part with his prisoners--with _one_ of them at any rate.You are no spy, I know: such eyes as yours were never made to countthe strength of battalions. As for your friend there, we have means tomake him tell us all about himself to-morrow; and you, _ma mignonne_,must not bruise your tender feet by walking through the night to thecamp of Monsieur--the King of France. In a day or so, perhaps,' hewent on with a horrible smile, 'but not to-night. Come! and he steppedup to her. Come, taste the d'Arbois--it is from your friends--andlearn to love the poor soldiers of the Holy League.'

  Saying this he attempted to pass his arm round her waist, but slippingfrom his grasp, and her cheeks aflame, Madame struck him across theface with the back of her hand, such a stroke as the wing of an angrydove might give.

  The rest was done in a flash, and de Gomeron reeled back with bleedinglips, staggered back to the very end of the room, where he would havefallen but for the support of the wall. It was in me to follow up myblow by passing my sword through the man, so mad was I in my fury; butluckily for him Nicholas hung on my arm and saved the villain's life.He righted himself at once, and passing his hand across his mouth,spoke to me quite coolly and collectedly, but with livid features.

  'We finish this outside, sir; follow me,' and picking up his rapier,which lay on the table, where he had thrown it on the entrance of theprisoners, de Gomeron stepped out of the door. In the excitement ofthe moment the men poured after him, and I was the last to follow. Itcame to me like lightning that the prisoners were unguarded, andslipping my dagger from its sheath, I thrust its haft into Madame'shand, and I saw that she understood from the thanks in her eyes. As Iwent out I heard the voice of the Huguenot: 'They shall die as theyhave lived--by the edge of the sword; and the Lord shall confound Hisenemies.'

  It was but a stone-throw to the stretch of green, which extended aslevel as a tennis-court for a hundred paces or so, and then slopedgently downward towards the junction of the Serre and the Oise. Beyondrose the walls of La Fere, whose grey outlines, lit up here and thereby the flare of a lamp or fire, were clearly visible in the brightmoonlight. So clear was this light, that I could distinctly make outthe blue flowers of the patch of borage, which lay between the hut andthe thorn hedge, beyond which de Gomeron was awaiting me. When I cameup I found him standing with his back to the moon. He had thrown offhis doublet, and was in his shirt sleeves, which were rolled up to hiselbows, and Nicholas and the men stood a little on one side, utterlyforgetful of the prisoners, and eager as bloodhounds to witness thecoming fight. It took but a half minute to make myself ready, andborrowing a poniard from Nicholas to help me to parry, for de Gomeronheld one in his left hand, and I was determined to give him no furtheradvantage--he already had the light--I took my position. Then therewas an angry little clash and our blades met, looking for all theworld like two thin streaks of fire in the moonlight. I began theattack at once in the lower lines, but soon found that my adversarywas a master of his weapon, and his defence was complete. We were bothsober enough now, besides being in deadly earnest, and de Gomeronbegan to change his tactics and attack in his turn. He was more thancunning of fence, thrusting high at my throat to get as much of thereflection of the moon as possible on his blade, and so dazzle myeyes; but this was a game I had played before, and seeing this hedisengaged, and making a beautiful feint, thrust low in tierce. Theparry was just in time, but the point of his blade ripped me exactlyover the heart, and dyed my shirt red with the blood of a flesh wound.The discipline of Nicholas and his men went to shreds at the sight ofthis, and there was a shout: '_Croix Dieu!_ He is lost!'

  But a man's knowledge is not to be counted by his years, and MaitreTouchet had himself placed a foil in my hand ere I was seven. The hairthat stood between me and death as de Gomeron's point touched mecooled me to ice, and knowing that in a long-continued contest youthmust tell, I began to feign retreat, and give back slowly, meaning towind my opponent, and work him round to get a little of the moon inhis eyes. De Gomeron took the bait and pressed his attack, with theresult that he shifted his position of vantage, and in a while beganto breathe heavily. At this point a cloud obscured the moonlight, andmy opponent, springing back, called out: 'Hold! hold till the cloudpasses! We cannot see.'

  'But I can, messieurs,' answered a deep voice to our right. 'Whatmeans this fool's work?' and a tall figure, the white line of a drawnsword shining in its hand, stepped between us, coming, as it were,from nowhere. The cloud passed, and the moon was again brilliant andclear. The light fell on the commanding form before us, showing thehigh aquiline features and grizzled hair of de Rone himself. Nicholasand his men melted into thin air at the sight, and de Gomeron and Istood speechless. The wind caught the black plumes in the General'shat, waving them silently in the air, and brought to us the faintclink of a chain-bit--de Rone had evidently stolen upon us on foot,leaving his horse at a distance.

  'So this is how my outposts are kept?' he said. 'M. de Gomeron, youare the senior officer here, and I await your explanation. _Mordieu!_It is something that I do this.'

  'I command the guards of the Duc d'Aumale,' began de Gomeron sullenly,but de
Rone interrupted him in the same deep measured voice.

  'I know that. Your explanation, or,' and in fierce anger, 'by God! youwill hang like a common thief by sunrise.'

  'A gentleman must defend his honour. Orders or no orders. General,there are times when one must fight. There was a matter in connectionwith some prisoners, and I was struck by M. d'Auriac. I have nothingfurther to say.'

  'Now, M. d'Auriac, what have you to say?'

  'The prisoners will, perhaps, explain to your Excellency why I struckthis man.'

  'Take me to them.'

  We gathered up our belongings, and, hastily dressing, led the way backto the hut. What de Gomeron's thoughts were I know not, but my ownreflections were none of the most cheerful. We all knew de Rone, andknew that, his mind once made up, nothing could turn him. De Gomeronhad some chance of escape, as of a certainty I was the open aggressor;but for myself, I saw poor de Gonnor lying under the elm trees, takinghis last look at the sunlight, and my heart became like lead. But wehad no great time for thought, as a few steps brought us to the doorof the hut, where Nicholas and his men stood at the salute with scaredfaces. Another step took us in, and de Rone, with a curling lip, casta glance around the room, at the emptied wine flasks and the dice,which latter one of the men had doubtless picked up, and placed in asmall heap beside the rouleau I had won. But chairs, table, wineflasks, and dice were all the room contained, and there was reasonenough for the extra length of visage that master Nicholas and hisknaves had pulled.

  'I do not see the prisoners,' said de Rone quietly.

  It was not likely, I thought to myself. They were gone--not a doubt ofthat. On the floor, near my feet, were some cut cords, and, lying onthem, a knot of black and white ribbon, that had fallen there as if bychance. I had seen it last at the shoulder of Madame's dress, andsomething told me it was not there by accident. There was, at anyrate, no hope for me from the prisoners, but a sudden impulse I couldnot understand, nor, indeed, did I try to, urged me to get the knot ofribbon, so, stooping low, I picked up the bow and the cut cords, and,with a careless movement, flung the latter on the table, sayingquietly, 'They have escaped, your Excellency.'

  'And with them your explanation, M. d'Auriac, eh? _Corbleu!_ But thecamp-marshal will have his hands full to-morrow;' and Nicholas'halberd all but fell from his hands as the General's eye rested onhim. I had nothing to say; and de Rone went on. 'M. de Gomeron, youhave given me a reason for your conduct that will hold good this once.Further orders will reach you at daylight about your neglect of yourprisoners. As for you,' and he turned on me with the sharp command,'Follow me. You--knaves! fetch me my horse--he is tethered to theclump of elms to the right there.'

  Two men vanished from the door to do his bidding, and I adjusted myattire as well as I might, taking the opportunity to secrete the knotof ribbon. In a minute or so we heard the sound of horses' hoofs, andas we went out, I saw there were two beasts at the door, and, from thewhinny of welcome that came to me, that one was mine, and Nicholas wasat his head.

  As I sprang into the saddle the good fellow leaned forward andwhispered, 'Make a dash for it. Chevalier, and change the flag.'

  I shook my head and followed de Rone, who had already moved a fewpaces onwards. And yet, as I rode on, Nicholas' words came back to mewith an insistent force. It was not possible for me to expect anyother issue than the worst, after what had happened. My big Normanhorse was fleet and strong; but a turn of my wrist, a touch of myspur, and we should be a hundred yards away before de Rone couldrealise what had happened; and then the road was clear to the banks ofthe Lelle, where the King was himself; yes, the King. He was that tome, in my heart, although loyalty to my family and its chiefs had mademe throw in my lot with the little band of exiles who remained true tothe dead legend of the League, and preferred to eat the bread of Spainrather than accept the great Frenchman who had fought his way to hisbirthright. Even now, whispers were stirring the air that the end wascoming; that the Archduke was sick of the war; that d'Aumale pined forhis stately park of Anet; that Mayenne had practically submitted, andthe Guisard was himself unsteady. If so, why should not I, Alban deBreuil, whose crow's nest of Auriac was half in ruins, and whoreckoned an income of a bare two hundred pistoles, see the error of myways as well? Behind me was safety. In front, between the nodding earsof my horse, there dangled a vision of a rope with a noose at the endof it; and I a noble!

  It was now midnight, and we distinctly heard the bells of Ste.Genevieve ringing the Sexts. They came to me with a refrain of 'Turnand ride, Turn and ride.' _Mordieu!_ but I was sorely tempted.

  'Gallop!'

  De Rone's sharp command broke the thread of my thoughts, and ended allchance of escape. We set spurs to our horses and splashed through theford of the Oise, a half mile from the outpost. On the other bank apicket challenged, and, giving them the word, we rode in the directionof the even white line of the camp. A few strides more and we reinedin at the door of the General's tent. The guard presented arms and Ireceived a brief order to dismount and follow de Rone.

  I entered the tent, and stood patiently whilst he walked backwards andforwards for a little time. Suddenly he stopped and, facing me, said,

  'Well, M. d'Auriac?'

  'It could not be helped, your Excellency,' I stammered.

  'You said that of de Gonnor, and promised it should never occuragain----'

  'But there were circumstances----'

  'Pshaw!' he exclaimed, 'I guess them all--wine--dice--women. One ofthe prisoners was a woman. I saw you pick up that knot of ribbon.There is no excuse--_Croix Dieu!_ None.'

  'I had the honour to be the first man behind your Excellency at thestorm of Laon,' I said, with a happy recollection.

  'And saved my life, you were going to say,' he cut in. I bowed, and deRone began again to pace up and down, tugging at his short pointedbeard. I was determined to seize the three hairs occasion offered, andcontinued:

  'And that was after M. de Gonnor's unfortunate accident.'

  'Accident!' he laughed shortly. 'And that accident having beencondoned, you want to set off saving my life against breaking theorders of the General?'

  'It will not occur again.'

  '_Croix Dieu!_ I will take care of that. It will not occur again withyou, M. d'Auriac. See here, I will pay my debt; but first ask if Ihave your parole not to attempt escape. If you do not give it--'and helaid his hand on a call-bell, with an inquiring look towards me.

  'I will not attempt escape.'

  'Then you will not have to complain of the justice of de Rone.To-morrow some things will happen, and amongst them will be thelamented death of the Sieur d'Auriac. This much I will tell you.To-morrow the King and I meet once more--you must die on the field.Win or lose, if I catch you alive at the close of the day, I will hangyou as high as Haman; and now go.'