Part 51 (1/2)
”Read this, then,” said the marshal, and handed him a book.
Laurence had been well instructed in the humanities by Father Colin of Saint Michael's Kirk by the side of Dee water, and he read the words, which record the cruelties of the Emperor Caligula with exactness and decorum.
”You read not ill,” said his auditor; ”you have been well taught, though you have a vile foreign accent and know not the shades of meaning that lie in the allusions.
”You say that you came to Machecoul with desire to serve me,” the marshal continued after a pause for thought. ”In what manner did you think you could serve, and why went you not into the house of some other lord?”
”As to service,” said Laurence, ”I came because I was invited by your henchman de Sille. And as to what I can do, I profess that I can sing, having been well taught by a master, the best in my country. I can play upon the viol and eke upon the organ. I am fairly good at fence, and excellent as any at singlestick. I can faithfully carry a message and loyally serve those who trust me. I would have some money to spend, which I have never had. I wish to live a life worth living, wherein is pleasure and pain, the lack of sameness, and the joy of things new. And if that may not be--why, I am ready to die, that I may make proof whether there be anything better beyond.”
”A most philosophic creed,” cried the marshal. ”Well, there is one thing in which I can prove, if indeed you lie not. Sing!”
Then Laurence stood up and sang, even as the choir had done, the lamentation of Rachel according to the setting of the Roman precentor.
”_A voice was heard in Ramah!_”
And as he sang, the Lord of Retz took up the strain, and, with true accord and feeling, accompanied him to the end.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PRISONERS OF THE WHITE TOWER.]
”Brava!” cried Gilles de Retz when Laurence had finished; ”that is truly well sung indeed! You shall sing it alone in my chapel next feast day of the Holy Innocents.”
He paused as if to consider his words.
”And now for this time go. But remember that this Castle of Machecoul is straiter than any prison cell, and better guarded than a fortress.
It is surrounded with constant watchers, secret, invisible, implacable. Whoso tries to escape, dies. You are a bold lad, and, as I think, fear not much death for yourself. But come hither, and I will show you something which will chain you here.”
With a kind of solicitous familiarity the Marshal de Retz took the lad by the arm and drew him to another window on the further side of the keep.
”Look forth and tell me what you see,” he said.
Laurence set his head out of the window. He looked upon an intricate ma.s.s of building, composing the western wing of the castle, and it was some moments before he could distinguish what the Sieur de Retz wished him to see. Then, as his eyes took in the details, he saw on the flat roof of a square tower beneath him two maidens seated, and when he looked closer--lo! they were Margaret Douglas and, beside her, his brother's sweetheart Maud Lindesay. These two were sitting hand in hand, as was their wont, and the head of the child was bowed almost to her friend's knee. Maud's arm was about Margaret's neck, and her fingers caressed the childish tangle of hair. Presently the elder lifted the younger upon her knee and hushed her like a mother who puts a tired child to sleep.
Immediately behind this group, in the shadow of a b.u.t.tress, Laurence saw a tall man, masked, clad in a black suit, and with a drawn sword in his hand.
The marshal looked out over the lad's shoulder.
”The day you are missed from the Castle of Machecoul, or the day that the rest of your company arrives here, that sword shall fall, but in a more terrible fas.h.i.+on than I can tell you! That sentinel can neither hear nor speak, but he has his orders and will obey them. I bid you good night. Go to your singing in the choir. It is time for the chanting of vespers in the chapel of the Holy Innocents.”
CHAPTER LII
THE JESTING OF LA MEFFRAYE
It was in the White Tower of Machecoul that the Scottish maidens were held at the mercy of the Lord of Retz. At their first arrival in the country they had been taken to the quiet Chateau of Pouzauges, the birthplace of Poitou, the marshal's most cruel and remorseless confidant. Here, as the marshal had very truly informed the Lady Sybilla, they had been under the care of--or, rather, fellow-prisoners with--the neglected wife of Gilles de Retz, and at Pouzauges they had spent some days of comparative peace and security in the society of her daughter.
But at the first breath of the coming of the three strangers to the district they had been seized and securely conveyed to Machecoul itself--there to be interned behind the vast walls and triple bastions of that fortress prison.