A Gentleman of France

S >> Stanley Weyman >> A Gentleman of France

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CHAPTER II.

THE KING OF NAVARRE.

I have already referred to the danger with which the alliance
between Henry the Third and the League menaced us, an alliance
whereof the news, it was said, had blanched the King of Navarre's
moustache in a single night. Notwithstanding this, the Court had
never shown itself more frolicsome or more free from care than at
the time of which I am speaking; even the lack of money seemed
for the moment forgotten. One amusement followed another, and
though, without doubt, something was doing under the surface for
the wiser of his foes held our prince in particular dread when he
seemed most deeply sunk in pleasure--to the outward eye St. Jean
d'Angely appeared to be given over to enjoyment from one end to
the other.

The stir and bustle of the Court reached me even in my garret,
and contributed to make that Christmas, which fell on a Sunday, a
trial almost beyond sufferance. All day long the rattle of
hoofs on the pavement, and the laughter of riders bent on
diversion, came up to me, making the hard stool seem harder, the
bare walls more bare, and increasing a hundredfold the solitary
gloom in which I sat. For as sunshine deepens the shadows which
fall athwart it, and no silence is like that which follows the
explosion of a mine, so sadness and poverty are never more
intolerable than when hope and wealth rub elbows with them.

True, the great sermon which M. d'Amours preached in the market-
house on the morning of Christmas-day cheered me, as it cheered
all the more sober spirits. I was present myself, sitting in an
obscure corner of the building, and heard the famous prediction,
which was so soon to be fulfilled. 'Sire,' said the preacher,
turning to the King of Navarre, and referring, with the boldness
that ever characterised that great man and noble Christian, to
the attempt, then being made to exclude the prince from the
succession--'Sire, what God at your birth gave you man cannot
take away. A little while, a little patience, and you shall
cause us to preach beyond the Loire! With you for our Joshua we
shall cross the Jordan, and in the Promised Land the Church shall
be set up.'

Words so brave, and so well adapted to encourage the Huguenots in
the crisis through which their affairs were then passing, charmed
all hearers; save indeed, those--and they were few--who, being
devoted to the Vicomte de Turenne, disliked, though they could
not controvert, this public acknowledgment of the King of
Navarre, as the Huguenot leader. The pleasure of those present
was evinced in a hundred ways, and to such an extent that even I
returned to my chamber soothed and exalted, and found, in
dreaming of the speedy triumph of the cause, some compensation
for my own ill-fortune.

As the day wore on, however, and the evening brought no change,
but presented to me the same dreary prospect with which morning
had made me familiar, I confess without shame that my heart sank
once more, particularly as I saw that I should be forced in a day
or two to sell either my remaining horse or some part of my
equipment as essential; a step which I could not contemplate
without feelings of the utmost despair. In this state of mind I
was adding up by the light of a solitary candle the few coins I
had left, when I heard footsteps ascending the stairs. I made
them out to be the steps of two persons, and was still lost in
conjectures who they might be, when a hand knocked gently at my
door.

Fearing another trick, I did not at once open, the more so there
was something stealthy and insinuating in the knock. Thereupon
my visitors held a whispered consultation; then they knocked
again. I asked loudly who was there, but to this they did not
choose to give any answer, while I, on my part, determined not to
open until they did. The door was strong, and I smiled grimly at
the thought that this time they would have their trouble for
their pains.

To my surprise, however, they did not desist, and go away, as I
expected, but continued to knock at intervals and whisper much
between times. More than once they called me softly by name and
bade me open, but as they steadily refrained from saying who they
were, I sat still. Occasionally I heard them laugh, but under
their breath as it were; and persuaded by this that they were
bent on a frolic, I might have persisted in my silence until
midnight, which was not more than two hours off, had not a slight
sound, as of a rat gnawing behind the wainscot, drawn my
attention to the door. Raising my candle and shading my eyes I
espied something small and bright protruding beneath it, and
sprang up, thinking they were about to prise it in. To my
surprise, however, I could discover, on taking the candle to the
threshold, nothing more threatening than a couple of gold livres,
which had been thrust through the crevice between the door and
the floor.

My astonishment may be conceived. I stood for full a minute
staring at the coins, the candle in my hand. Then, reflecting
that the young sparks at the Court would be very unlikely to
spend such a sum on a jest, I hesitated no longer, but putting
down the candle, drew the bolt of the door, purposing to confer
with my visitors outside. In this, however, I was disappointed,
for the moment the door was open they pushed forcibly past me
and, entering the room pell-mell, bade me by signs to close the
door again.

I did so suspiciously, and without averting my eyes from my
visitors. Great were my embarrassment and confusion, therefore,
when, the door being shut, they dropped their cloaks one after
the other, and I saw before me M. du Mornay and the well-known
figure of the King of Navarre.

They seemed so much diverted, looking at one another and
laughing, that for a moment I thought some chance resemblance
deceived me, and that here were my jokers again. Hence while a
man might count ten I stood staring; and the king was the first
to speak. 'We have made no mistake, Du Mornay, have we?' he
said, casting a laughing glance at me.

'No, sire,' Du Mornay answered. 'This is the Sieur de Marsac,
the gentleman whom I mentioned to you.'

I hastened, confused, wondering, and with a hundred apologies, to
pay my respects to the king. He speedily cut me short, however,
saying, with an air of much kindness, 'Of Marsac, in Brittany, I
think, sir?'

'The same, sire,'

'Then you are of the family of Bonne?'

'I am the last survivor of that family, sire,' I answered
respectfully.

'It has played its part,' he rejoined. and therewith he took his
seat on my stool with an easy grace which charmed me. 'Your
motto is "BONNE FOI," is it not? And Marsac, if I remember
rightly, is not far from Rennes, on the Vilaine?'

I answered that it was, adding, with a full heart, that it
grieved me to be compelled to receive so great a prince in so
poor a lodging.

'Well, I confess,' Du Mornay struck in, looking carelessly round
him, 'you have a queer taste, M. de Marsac, in the arrangement of
your furniture. You--'

'Mornay!' the king cried sharply.

'Sire?'

'Chut! your elbow is in the candle. Beware of it!'

But I well understood him. If my heart had been full before, it
overflowed now. Poverty is not so shameful as the shifts to
which it drives men. I had been compelled some days before, in
order to make as good a show as possible--since it is the
undoubted duty of a gentleman to hide his nakedness from
impertinent eyes, and especially from the eyes of the canaille,
who are wont to judge from externals--to remove such of my
furniture and equipage as remained to that side of the room,
which was visible from without when the door was open. This left
the farther side of the room vacant and bare. To anyone within
doors the artifice was, of course, apparent, and I am bound to
say that M. de Mornay's words brought the blood to my brow.

I rejoiced, however a moment later that he had uttered them; for
without them I might never have known, or known so early, the
kindness of heart and singular quickness of apprehension which
ever distinguished the king, my master. So, in my heart, I began
to call him from that hour.

The King of Navarre was at this time thirty-five years old, his
hair brown, his complexion ruddy, his moustache, on one side at
least, beginning to turn grey. His features, which Nature had
cast in a harsh and imperious mould, were relieved by a constant
sparkle and animation such as I have never seen in any other man,
but in him became ever more conspicuous in gloomy and perilous
times. Inured to danger from his earliest youth, he had come to
enjoy it as others a festival, hailing its advent with a reckless
gaiety which astonished even brave men, and led others to think
him the least prudent of mankind. Yet such he was not: nay, he
was the opposite of this. Never did Marshal of France make more
careful dispositions for a battle--albeit once in it he bore
himself like any captain of horse--nor ever did Du Mornay himself
sit down to a conference with a more accurate knowledge of
affairs. His prodigious wit and the affability of his manners,
while they endeared him to his servants, again and again blinded
his adversaries; who, thinking that so much brilliance could
arise only from a shallow nature, found when it was too late that
they had been outwitted by him whom they contemptuously styled
the Prince of Bearn, a man a hundredfold more astute than
themselves, and master alike of pen and sword.

Much of this, which all the world now knows, I learned
afterwards. At the moment I could think of little save the
king's kindness; to which he added by insisting that I should sit
on the bed while we talked. 'You wonder, M. de Marsac,' he said,
'what brings me here, and why I have come to you instead of
sending for you? Still more, perhaps, why I have come to you at
night and with such precautions? I will tell you. But first,
that my coming may not fill you with false hopes, let me say
frankly, that though I may relieve your present necessities,
whether you fall into the plan I am going to mention, or not, I
cannot take you into my service; wherein, indeed, every post is
doubly filled. Du Mornay mentioned your name to me, but in
fairness to others I had to answer that I could do nothing.'

I am bound to confess that this strange exordium dashed hopes
which had already risen to a high pitch. Recovering myself as
quickly as possible, however, I murmured that the honour of a
visit from the King of Navarre was sufficient happiness for me.

'Nay, but that honour I must take from you ' he replied, smiling;
'though I see that you would make an excellent courtier--far
better than Du Mornay here, who never in his life made so pretty
a speech. For I must lay my commands on you to keep this visit a
secret, M. de Marsac. Should but the slightest whisper of it get
abroad, your usefulness, as far as I am concerned, would be gone,
and gone for good!'

So remarkable a statement filled me with wonder I could scarcely
disguise. It was with difficulty I found words to assure the
king that his commands should be faithfully obeyed.

'Of that I am sure,' he answered with the utmost kindness.
'Where I not, and sure, too, from what I am told of your
gallantry when my cousin took Brouage, that you are a man of
deeds rather than words, I should not be here with the
proposition I am going to lay before you. It is this. I can
give you no hope of public employment, M. de Marsac, but I can
offer you an adventure if adventures be to your taste--as
dangerous and as thankless as any Amadis ever undertook.'

'As thankless, sire?' I stammered, doubting if I had heard
aright, the expression was so strange.

'As thankless,' he answered, his keen eyes seeming to read my
soul. 'I am frank with you, you see, sir,' he continued,
carelessly. 'I can suggest this adventure--it is for the good of
the State--I can do no more. The King of Navarre cannot appear
in it, nor can he protect you. Succeed or fail in it, you stead
alone. The only promise I make is, that if it ever be safe for
me to acknowledge the act, I will reward the doer.'

He paused, and for a few moments I stared at him in sheer
amazement. What did he mean? Were he and the other real
figures, or was I dreaming?

'Do you understand?' he asked at length, with a touch of
impatience.

'Yes, sire, I think I do,' I murmured, very certain in truth and
reality that I did not.

'What do you say, then--yes or no?' he rejoined. 'Will you
undertake the adventure, or would you hear more before you make
up your mind?'

I hesitated. Had I been a younger man by ten years I should
doubtless have cried assent there and then, having been all my
life ready enough to embark on such enterprises as offered a
chance of distinction. But something in the strangeness of the
king's preface, although I had it in my heart to die for him,
gave me check, and I answered, with an air of great humility,
'You will think me but a poor courtier now, sire, yet he is a
fool who jumps into a ditch without measuring the depth. I would
fain, if I may say it without disrespect, hear all that you can
tell me.'

'Then I fear,' he answered quickly, 'if you would have more light
on the matter, my friend, you must get another candle.'

I started, he spoke so abruptly; but perceiving that the candle
had indeed burned down to the socket, I rose, with many
apologies, and fetched another from the cupboard. It did not
occur to me at the moment, though it did later, that the king had
purposely sought this opportunity of consulting with his
companion. I merely remarked, when I returned to my place on the
bed, that they were sitting a little nearer one another, and that
the king eyed me before he spoke--though he still swung one foot
carelessly in the air with close attention.

'I speak to you, of course, sir,' he presently went on, 'in
confidence, believing you to be an honourable as well as a brave
man. That which I wish you to do is briefly, and in a word, to
carry off a lady. Nay,' he added quickly, with a laughing
grimace, 'have no fear! She is no sweetheart of mine, nor should
I go to my grave friend here did I need assistance of that kind.
Henry of Bourbon, I pray God, will always be able to free his own
lady-love. This is a State affair, and a matter of quite another
character, though we cannot at present entrust you with the
meaning of it.'

I bowed in silence, feeling somewhat chilled and perplexed, as
who would not, having such an invitation before him? I had
anticipated an affair with men only--a secret assault or a petard
expedition. But seeing the bareness of my room, and the honour
the king was doing me, I felt I had no choice, and I answered,
'That being the case, sire, I am wholly at your service.'

'That is well,' he, answered briskly, though methought he looked
at Du Mornay reproachfully, as doubting his commendation of me.
'But will you say the same,' he continued, removing his eyes to
me, and speaking slowly, as though he would try me, 'when I tell
you that the lady to be carried off is the ward of the Vicomte de
Turenne, whose arm is well-nigh as long as my own, and who would
fain make it longer; who never travels, as he told me yesterday,
with less than fifty gentlemen, and has a thousand arquebusiers
in his pay? Is the adventure still to your liking, M. de Marsac,
now that you know that?'

'It is more to my liking, sire,' I answered stoutly.

'Understand this too,' he rejoined. 'It is essential that this
lady, who is at present confined in the Vicomte's house at Chize,
should be released; but it is equally essential that there should
be no breach between the Vicomte and myself. Therefore the
affair must be the work of an independent man, who has never been
in my service, nor in any way connected with me. If captured,
you pay the penalty without recourse to me.'

'I fully understand, sire,' I answered.

'Ventre Saint Gris!' he cried, breaking into a low laugh. I
swear the man is more afraid of the lady than he is of the
Vicomte! That is not the way of most of our Court.'

Du Mornay, who had been sitting nursing his knee in silence,
pursed up his lips, though it was easy to see that he was well
content with the king's approbation. He now intervened. 'With
your permission, sire,' he said, 'I will let this gentleman know
the details.'

'Do, my friend,' the king answered. 'And be short, for if we are
here much longer I shall be missed, and in a twinkling the Court
will have found me a new mistress.'

He spoke in jest and with a laugh, but I saw Du Mornay start at
the words, as though they were little to his liking; and I
learned afterwards that the Court was really much exercised at
this time with the question who would be the next favourite, the
king's passion for the Countess de la Guiche being evidently on
the wane, and that which he presently evinced for Madame de
Guercheville being as yet a matter of conjecture.

Du Mornay took no overt notice of the king's words, however, but
proceeded to give me my directions. 'Chize, which you know by
name,' he said, 'is six leagues from here. Mademoiselle de la
Vire is confined in the north-west room, on the first-floor,
overlooking the park. More I cannot tell you, except that her
woman's name is Fanchette, and that she is to be trusted. The
house is well guarded, and you will need four or five men, There
are plenty of cut-throats to be hired, only see, M. de Marsac,
that they are such as you can manage, and that Mademoiselle takes
no hurt among them. Have horses in waiting, and the moment; you
have released the lady ride north with her as fast as her
strength will permit. Indeed, you must not spare her, if Turenne
be on your heels. You should be across the Loire in sixty hours
after leaving Chize.'

'Across the Loire?' I exclaimed in astonishment.

'Yes, sir, across the Loire,' he replied, with some sternness.
'Your task, be good enough to understand, is to convoy
Mademoiselle de la Vire with all speed to Blois. There,
attracting as little notice as may be, you will inquire for the
Baron de Rosny at the Bleeding Heart, in the Rue de St. Denys.
He will take charge of the lady, or direct you how to dispose of
her, and your task will then be accomplished. You follow me?'

'Perfectly,' I answered, speaking in my turn with some dryness.
'But Mademoiselle I understand is young. What if she will not
accompany me, a stranger, entering her room at night, and by the
window?'

'That has been thought of' was the answer. He turned to the King
of Navarre, who, after a moment's search, produced a small object
from his pouch. This he gave to his companion, and the latter
transferred it to me. I took it with curiosity. It was the half
of a gold carolus, the broken edge of the coin being rough and
jagged. 'Show that to Mademoiselle, my friend,' Du Mornay
continued, 'and she will accompany you. She has the other half.'

'But be careful,' Henry added eagerly, 'to make no mention, even
to her, of the King of Navarre. You mark me, M. de Marsac! If
you have at any time occasion to speak of me, you may have the
honour of calling me YOUR FRIEND, and referring to me always in
the same manner.'

This he said with so gracious an air that I was charmed, and
thought myself happy indeed to be addressed in this wise by a
prince whose name was already so glorious. Nor was my
satisfaction diminished when his companion drew out a bag
containing, as he told me, three hundred crowns in gold, and
placed it in my hands, bidding me defray therefrom the cost of
the journey. 'Be careful, however,' he added earnestly, 'to
avoid, in hiring your men, any appearance of wealth, lest the
adventure seem to be suggested by some outside person; instead of
being dictated by the desperate state of your own fortunes.
Promise rather than give, so far as that will avail. And for
what you must give, let each livre seem to be the last in your
pouch.'

Henry nodded assent. 'Excellent advice!' he muttered, rising
and drawing on his cloak, 'such as you ever give me, Mornay, and
I as seldom take--more's the pity! But, after all, of little
avail without this.' He lifted my sword from the table as he
spoke, and weighed it in his hand. 'A pretty tool,' he
continued, turning suddenly and looking me very closely in the
face. 'A very pretty tool. Were I in your place, M. de Marsac,
I would see that it hung loose in the scabbard. Ay, and more,
man, use it!' he added, sinking his voice and sticking out his
chin, while his grey eyes, looking ever closer into mine, seemed
to grow cold and hard as steel. 'Use it to the last, for if you
fall into Turenne's hands, God help you! I cannot!'

'If I am taken, sire,' I answered, trembling, but not with fear,
'my fate be on my own head.'

I saw the king's eyes soften, at that, and his face change so
swiftly that I scarce knew him for the same man. He let the
weapon drop with a clash on the table. 'Ventre Saint Gris!' he
exclaimed with a strange thrill of yearning in his tone. 'I
swear by God, I would I were in your shoes, sir. To strike a
blow or two with no care what came of it. To take the road with
a good horse and a good sword, and see what fortune would send.
To be rid of all this statecraft and protocolling, and never to
issue another declaration in this world, but just to be for once
a Gentleman of France, with all to win and nothing to lose save
the love of my lady! Ah! Mornay, would it not be sweet to leave
all this fret and fume, and ride away to the green woods by
Coarraze?'

'Certainly, if you prefer them to the Louvre, sire,' Du Mornay
answered drily; while I stood, silent and amazed, before this
strange man, who could so suddenly change from grave to gay, and
one moment spoke so sagely, and the next like any wild lad in his
teens. 'Certainly,' he answered, 'if that be your choice, sire;
and if you think that even there the Duke of Guise will leave you
in peace. Turenne, I am sure, will be glad to hear of your
decision. Doubtless he will be elected Protector of the
Churches. Nay, sire, for shame!' Du Mornay continued almost
with sternness. 'Would you leave France, which at odd times I
have heard you say you loved, to shift for herself? Would you
deprive her of the only man who does love her for her own sake?'

'Well, well, but she is such a fickle sweetheart, my friend,' the
king answered, laughing, the side glance of his eye on me.
'Never was one so coy or so hard to clip! And, besides, has not
the Pope divorced us?'

'The Pope! A fig for the Pope!' Du Mornay rejoined with
impatient heat. 'What has he to do with France? An impertinent
meddler, and an Italian to boot! I would he and all the brood of
them were sunk a hundred fathoms deep in the sea. But, meantime,
I would send him a text to digest.'

'EXEMPLUM?' said the king.

'Whom God has joined together let no man put asunder.'

'Amen! quoth Henry softly. 'And France is a fair and comely
bride.'

After that he kept such a silence, falling as it seemed to me
into a brown study, that he went away without so much as bidding
me farewell, or being conscious, as far as I could tell, of my
presence. Du Mornay exchanged a few words with me, to assure
himself that I understood what I had to do, and then, with many
kind expressions, which I did not fail to treasure up and con
over in the times that were coming, hastened downstairs after
his master.

My joy when I found myself alone may be conceived. Yet was it no
ecstasy, but a sober exhilaration; such as stirred my pulses
indeed, and bade me once more face the world with a firm eye and
an assured brow, but was far from holding out before me a
troubadour's palace or any dazzling prospect. The longer I dwelt
on the interview, the more clearly I saw the truth. As the
glamour which Henry's presence and singular kindness had cast
over me began to lose some of its power, I recognised more and
more surely why he had come to me. It was not out of any special
favour for one whom he knew by report only, if at all by name;
but because he had need of a man poor, and therefore reckless,
middle-aged (of which comes discretion), obscure--therefore a
safe instrument; to crown all, a gentleman, seeing that both a
secret and a women were in question.

Withal I wondered too. Looking from the bag of money on the
table to the broken coin in my hand, I scarcely knew which to
admire more: the confidence which entrusted the one to a man
broken and beggared, or the courage of the gentlewoman who should
accompany me on the faith of the other.

CHAPTER III.

BOOT AND SADDLE.

As was natural, I meditated deeply and far into the night on the
difficulties of the task, entrusted to me. I saw that it fell
into two parts: the release of the lady, and her safe conduct to
Blois, a distance of sixty leagues. The release I thought it
probable I could effect single-handed, or with one companion
only; but in the troubled condition of the country at this time,
more particularly on both sides of the Loire, I scarcely saw how
I could ensure a lady's safety on the road northwards unless I
had with me at least five swords.

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