Part 6 (1/2)
Agrippa Pavanes swung round and faced us, his hand on his sword-hilt.
”I am in charge of this gate at present, and I will act as I think best. I may not be able to read or write, but if you do not be off I will make a full stop on you with the point of my sword,” he snarled.
Affairs were getting serious. Nor do I know what might have happened, but at this juncture a head appeared at a window in one of the flanking towers of the gate, and an angry and a sleepy voice asked what was the matter below.
”It is I, Crequy,” began De Lorgnac, and the other exclaimed:
”You! What in the--saints' name--brings you here, De Lorgnac, at this hour of the night, or rather morning? Is it not enough that I am banished here to keep watch over this infernal gate? And now you----”
”Come, Crequy; this is a matter of urgency. There is a letter here from the Queen which must reach the King before the _pet.i.t couvert_, and your lieutenant will not let the messenger pa.s.s through the gates.”
”He is quite right! But a letter from the Queen, did you say?”
”Yes; and to the King in person. Come down, and see for yourself.”
”Not I; I am in my s.h.i.+rt, and my health is delicate. Send up the letter. Pavanes, do me the favour to bring it up.”
I handed the letter to Agrippa, who took it up, with very much the surly air of a dog walking away with a bone. A moment after he too appeared at the window with his light, and Crequy examined the letter and the seals.
”'Tis right, Pavanes,” we heard him say; ”'tis the Queen's own hand and seal. Let the messenger through.” And leaning out of the window he repeated the same to us.
De Lorgnac thanked him, regretting, at the same time, the necessity he had of arousing him; and Crequy swore back, in mock tones of injury, that he would have a special cell built for disturbers of his rest, and, wis.h.i.+ng us the day, retired abruptly.
Agrippa carried out his orders with an ill grace, and made no answer to my thanks; so, bidding farewell to De Lorgnac, I put spurs to my horse, and, followed by Pierrebon, rode out of Paris.
CHAPTER VI
SIMON AND I MEET AGAIN
The stars were yet s.h.i.+ning as we skirted the heights of Charenton, but it was day when we saw Villaneuve St. Georges on its wooded hill.
Here, where the Yeres wound between banks covered with willows and poplars, I first drew rein, and taking the King's letter from my pocket tore it into a hundred fragments. Some I let drift down the stream, and the remainder I scattered to the winds. I may say at once that this was in accordance with the Queen's instructions. The letter was merely intended to enable me to free the gates, and after that it was to be destroyed. It had served its purpose, and now went its way.
Needless to add, I had no intention to touch at Fontainebleau or disturb the _pet.i.t couvert_ of the King. At Melun, therefore, where horse and man were refreshed, I crossed the bridge, and took the road to Etampes. Half way, where the little town of Alais lies on the Essonne, I turned due south, and entered the Orleannois by Malesherbes.
There was many a league yet between me and Montluc, and though I had to ride hard I had yet to husband the horses, lest they should break down, or in case of emergency.
By avoiding the main roads and large towns and keeping to by-paths I lessened the chance of danger as much as possible. At Candes, which lies at the junction of the Loire and the Vienne, I heard that the Guidon of Montpensier was hard at hand, and, knowing well the reputation of this person, I bade Pierrebon saddle up, and we started without a meal, though we had ridden far and fast. In a short time we entered the forest of Fontevrault, and my spirits rose high at the thought that in a brief s.p.a.ce I would be in Poitiers, where Montluc lay, and my mission accomplished.
So far so good; but towards midday I began to feel the need of rest, and splas.h.i.+ng across a ford of the Negron I called a halt on the opposite bank and looked around me; whilst Pierrebon, who was a little stiff, jumped from his hackney, and began to mop his brow and stretch his legs.
We were in the heart of the forest, and to the north, south, east, and west of us there was nothing but trees and dense underwood, with here and there a long, s.h.i.+mmering glade or an open s.p.a.ce, through which a small streamlet hummed, its banks gay with flowers.
But I confess that at the moment I had no eyes for the scene--for the yellow mary-buds, the blue of the wild hyacinth, or the white stars of the wind-flowers; for leaf and shade, and all the enchantment of the woodland. In brief, I was famished, and would have given a gold Henri to have seen a signboard swinging in the air. And, besides, it was dawning upon me that somehow we had missed the track.
”Pierrebon,” I said, ”do you know how far it is to Marcay?”
Pierrebon shook his head dolefully, saying as he did so that he did not even know where we were.
”Then, my friend, we are lost in Fontevrault Forest.”