"And I give Monseigneur a crown."
"_Peste!_ My lord, after all M. de Gomeron has deserved his price, and a good sword and a better head must not be thrown away. Remember, monseigneur, an open hand makes faithful hearts," said Lafin.
"But the King would never consent," began Biron.
"Give me your word to help me, monseigneur. I will do the rest for myself."
"Give it, my lord."
Biron hesitated for a moment, and then suddenly threw up his hands.
"Very well, let it be as you wish. I promise, M. de Gomeron."
"Enough, my lord; I thank you. The Chevalier Lafin has laid before you in detail all our resources. Let me now show you this." He unrolled a parchment that was before him, and handed it to the Marshal. "Here,"
he added, "are the signatures of all. It only needs that of Biron; now sign."
I could hear the beating of my heart in the silence that followed, and then Biron said hoa.r.s.ely, "No! no! I will never put my name to paper."
"_Morbleu!_ Marshal," burst out Lafin, "This is no time for nibbling at a cherry. Tremouille and Epernon have signed. Put your seal to the scroll, and the day it reaches M. de Savoye, thirty thousand troops are across the frontier, and you will change the cabbage gardens of Biron for the coronet of Burgundy and La Breese."
"And see your head on a crown piece, Marshal," added de Gomeron.
"But we have not heard, Lafin--" began the Marshal.
"We will hear to-night, monseigneur--that horn meant news, and Zamet never fails. Curse the low-bred Italian! _Pardieu!_ he is here," and as he spoke, I heard what seemed to be three distinct knocks at a carved door, and, Lafin opening it, a man booted and spurred entered the room. He was splashed with mud as one who had ridden fast and far.
"Zamet!" exclaimed the Marshal and de Gomeron, both rising, and the face of the former was pale as death.
"Good evening, gentlemen! _Maledetto!_ But I have had a devil of a ride, and some fool kept winding a will-o"-the-wisp kind of horn that led me a fine dance. It was lucky I met your men."
"Then that blast we heard was not yours?"
"_Corpo di Bacco!_ No, Chevalier."
I was a glad man to think that Nicholas, who was crouching at my feet, did not hear this, or there might have been a catastrophe, but that indeed was not long delayed.
"Well, friends, you all seem to have pale faces--would you not like to hear the news? I have ridden post to tell you."
There was no answer, and the Italian continued: "I suppose I must give it, make your minds easy. It is all over--she died last night. We are free at any rate from the enmity of Gabrielle--she knew too much."
"Did it hurt her?" asked Biron nervously.
"I don"t know," answered Zamet brutally, "I have never tasted the Borgia citron myself."
"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed the Marshal, springing to his feet, "this is too terrible," and he began to pace up and down, whilst the other three remained in whispered converse, their eyes now and again turning to Biron, who walked the room like a caged beast. Nicholas had risen slowly to his feet despite my orders, and was looking over my shoulders with a white face and blazing eyes. I dared not tell him to go back; but, with a warning look at him, strained my ears to catch what was being said, but could hear nothing, until at length Zamet raised his voice: "Have done with it, Marshal, and sign. After all, Madame de Beaufort was no more than a----," and he used a foul word.
"The King is prostrate now; but in a week Gabrielle will be forgotten, and then anything might happen. He is beginning to recover. He already writes verses on the lost one," he went on with a grin, "_charmante_ Gabrielle--_diavolo!_ but you should have seen her as she lay dead--she was green as a jade cup."
"Be still, dog," and Biron turned fiercely on him. The Italian stepped back, his hand on his dagger; but in a moment he recovered himself.
His black eyebrows lifted, and his upper lip drew back over his teeth in a sneer.
"I did not know Monseigneur would be so affected; but time presses and we need the name of Biron to that scroll. Hand the Marshal the pen, Lafin."
"It is here," and de Gomeron, dipping a pen in a silver ink-stand, held it out in his hand.
Biron made a half step forward to take it, when a thing happened. I felt myself suddenly thrust aside, and there was a blinding flash, a loud report, and a shout from Nicholas, "Missed, by G.o.d!"
There was absolutely no time to do anything but make for the horses.
Nicholas had fired at de Gomeron in his mad thirst for revenge, and had practically given our lives away. In the uproar and din that followed we slid down the sash like apes, and dashed towards the horses. Some one shouted "Traitor--traitor," and let fly at us twice as we ran across the open s.p.a.ce. From the courtyard we could hear the hurry and bustle of men suddenly aroused, and as we reached the oak we heard the bay of the bloodhounds, and the thunder of hoofs in pursuit.
CHAPTER VII
POOR NICHOLAS!
From the oak to the spot where our horses were tethered was close upon fifty paces, and never, I think, was ground covered at a speedier rate by men running for their lives. I was bursting with anger, and know not what restrained me from pistolling Nicholas, so furious was I at the blind folly of the man. As we reached the horses, we could hear the dogs splashing through the spill-water at the edge of the lake, and someone fired a third shot at us from horseback--a shot in the dark which whistled through the branches overhead.
"Quick! quick, monsieur! "gasped Nicholas, and with a turn of his hand he freed Couronne, and sprang to her back--the great mare standing steady as a rock.
"Quick!" he called out again more loudly, and I made a vain effort to loosen my beast, which, startled by the shots, the baying of the dogs, and our haste and hurry, plunged and kicked as though it were demented.
"d.a.m.n you!" I hissed, half at the horse, half at the crop-eared idiot who had caused this disaster, and, managing somehow to scramble to the saddle, cut the halter with a draw of my dagger. At this moment the dogs reached us; a dark object sprang up from the ground, and, fastening on the jaws of my horse, brought him to his knees, whilst the other beast flew at my companion. Nicholas" pistol rang out to no purpose, the report was echoed by a chorus of shouts from the troopers following us, and Couronne, swinging round, lashed out with her heels at the hound that was baying her. Leaning forward with one arm half round the neck of my snorting horse, I thrust twice at the hound hanging to him, the first time sliding off his metal collar, but at the second blow my blade slipped to the hilt into something soft, it seemed of its own accord, and as the dead dog fell suddenly back, bearing my poniard with it, my freed horse rose to its feet, and mad with pain dashed forwards into the teeth of our pursuers. I let him go--one might as well have tried to stop the rush of a mad bull. By a miracle I escaped being torn off by the overhanging branches, and as we raced into the open, Nicholas at my heels shouting "To the north!
to the north!" we were not twenty paces away from the troopers. My frantic horse went straight at them, and, driving my spurs home, I made him leap at the foremost horseman. His animal swerved off--a piece of good luck for both of us. Then my pistol missed fire, and I was in the midst of them. The quarters were so close, and the confusion so great, that at first only those on the outside could use their weapons, and in their hurry to do so some of these perhaps struck at each other. One man, however, shortened his sword, and would have run me through had I not luckily seen the flash of the blade and given him the heavy iron-bound b.u.t.t of my pistol on the forehead. He was probably much hurt, but although he lurched backwards senseless, so close was the press that he was held in his saddle. The b.u.t.t of the pistol was broken off by the blow, and for the moment I was disarmed.
I dared not call out to Nicholas for fear of being recognised; but at this juncture horse and man on my right seemed to be dashed to earth, and Nicholas was at my elbow, striking right and left with the heavy hilt of his sword. Profiting by the relief, I drew out my second pistol and shot the man before me. Pressing against his mount with my brave little nag, who was now in hand again, I got clear, and, with a shout to Nicholas to follow, dashed off towards the north. It was at this moment that three other riders galloped up, and I heard de Gomeron call out, "_Sangdieu!_ They are off. After them, dogs," and clapping spurs to his beast he rode after us. We had, however, gained a full twenty yards" start, which was more than trebled by the few seconds" delay before the troopers could recover themselves and follow. My horse was going at racing pace; but Couronne kept by his side with a long and effortless stride. De Gomeron was at our heels, and with a sudden rush ranged alongside of Nicholas. The sergeant possibly did not recognise his a.s.sailant, and managed somehow to parry the cut aimed at him, and the next moment de Gomeron"s horse stumbled and went down; but the man himself, who was a rare horseman, fell on his feet like a cat. It was, however, a moment more of respite, and Nicholas, with a wild cheer, dashed into the forest, riding recklessly through the trees. We both leaned forward to the necks of our horses, and as far as I was concerned I made no attempt to guide my beast, but let him follow Couronne, who, surefooted as a stag, turned and twisted amongst the trees with almost human forethought. The single hound that was left strained bravely behind us; but, mindful probably of the fate that had overtaken his brother, made no direct attack. As we dashed into the wood the troopers attempted to follow; but it was with a relaxed speed, and every moment we were distancing them, and their cries, shouts, and curses became fainter and more faint. I began to think if we could but be rid of the sleuthhound, we would get off with whole skins. The beast was, however, not to be shaken off, and, avoiding the heels of the horses, came with a _lop_, _lop_, through the leaves alongside my nag, just out of reach of the point of my sword, which I had managed to draw. As he snapped and growled, my horse, already once wounded, and still smarting with pain, shied off from him, bruising my leg against a tree trunk, in the bark of which my spur remained, and all but unseating me. Another shy amongst the trees would have finished my business, for the pain of the bruise at the moment was exquisite; but, leaping a fallen log, Nicholas burst through a juniper bush, and my horse following him, we came on to an open stretch which sloped down to the river.
"_Ouf!_ Out of it at last!" I gasped out to Nicholas.
"It"s a mile yet to the river, monsieur," he answered, slackening pace slightly to allow me to get alongside of him.
The dog, however, was not yet shaken off, and kept steadily beside my horse. In the bright moon I could see him running freely and easily; and, much as I cursed his presence there, I could not help but admire the gallant beast. He seemed to know perfectly the danger that lay in the long shining sword, that thrust out at him like a snake"s tongue whenever he came too near.
I, however, owed him one for the bruise, and it was not a time to waste in admiring things. So I called to Nicholas.
"Slacken pace a little more. I want to be rid of the dog."
"We can kill him in the river," answered the sergeant.
"Better stop him here," and Nicholas obeyed.
Seeing us slacken, the hound tried to head the horses. This was exactly what I wanted; and shortening the reins, I pulled round my nag suddenly, right upon the dog, and, stooping low, gave him a couple of inches in the quarters as he attempted to double. It was not a wound that would kill. I had no intention, unless forced to, of doing that; but it had the desired effect, and he fled back howling with pain.
"Adieu, monsieur!" I cried out after him with a laugh, and joining the sergeant we cantered on through the clearing towards the river.
The ill-will I felt towards Nicholas had gone by this time. He had borne himself like a brave man, as he was; and, after all, if I had been in his position I would perhaps have done the same, and let drive at de Gomeron at sight. My little nag, however, at this time began to show signs of distress, and I turned my attention from the sergeant to husbanding the poor beast"s strength--patting him on his foam-covered neck to encourage him, and speaking to him in the manner that horses love. _Pardieu!_ If men only knew it, there are moments when a touch of the hand and a kind word are better than four-inch spurs.
We came to a narrow patch now, and rode down this, the river being in sight, winding like a silver ribbon thrown carelessly down. On the opposite bank it was overhung with willows, whose drooping boughs swung low to the very surface of the water. Here and there the stump of a felled tree stood up like a sentinel. In the distance, behind us, we could hear one or two of the troopers, who had by this time managed to get through the wood, yelling and shouting as they urged their horses towards the river. Doubtless more would soon follow, and I cursed them loudly and heartily. Nicholas looked back.