Part 1 (2/2)
”The king-favored governor of Acadia will some time turn and push him as he now pushes you.”
”D'Aulnay hath me at sore straits,” confessed La Tour, staring at the flame, ”since he has cut off from me the help of the Bostonnais.”
”They were easily cut off,” said Marie. ”Monsieur, those Huguenots of the colonies were never loving friends of ours. Their policy hath been to weaken this province by helping the quarrel betwixt D'Aulnay and you.
Now that D'Aulnay has strength at court, and has persuaded the king to declare you an outlaw, the Bostonnais think it wise to withdraw their hired soldiers from you. We have not offended the Bostonnais as allies; we have only gone down in the world.”
La Tour stirred uneasily.
”I dread that D'Aulnay may profit by this hasty journey I make to northern Acadia, and again attack the fort in my absence.”
”He hath once found a woman there who could hold it,” said Marie, checking a laugh.
La Tour moved his palm over her cheek. Within his mind the province of Acadia lay spread from Pen.o.bscot River to the Island of Sable, and from the southern tip of the peninsula now called Nova Scotia nearly to the mouth of the St. Lawrence. This domain had been parceled in grants: the north to Nicholas Denys; the centre and west to D'Aulnay de Charnisay; and the south, with posts on the western coast, to Charles de la Tour.
Being Protestant in faith, La Tour had no influence at the court of Louis XIII. His grant had been confirmed to him from his father. He had held it against treason to France; and his loyal service, at least, was regarded until D'Aulnay de Charnisay became his enemy. Even in that year of grace 1645, before Acadia was diked by home-making Norman peasants or watered by their parting tears, contending forces had begun to trample it. Two feudal barons fought each other on the soil of the New World.
”All things failing me”--La Tour held out his wrists, and looked at them with a sharp smile.
”Let D'Aulnay shake a warrant, monsieur. He must needs have you before he can carry you in chains to France.”
She seized La Tour's hands, with a swift impulse of atoning to them for the thought of such indignity, and kissed his wrists. He set his teeth on a trembling lip.
”I should be a worthless, aimless vagrant without you, Marie. You are young, and I give you fatigue and heart-sickening peril instead of jewels and merry company.”
”The merriest company for us at present, monsieur, are the men of our honest garrison. If Edelwald, who came so lately, complains not of this New World life, I should endure it merrily enough. And you know I seldom now wear the jewels belonging to our house. Our chief jewel is buried in the ground.”
She thought of a short grave wrapped in fogs near Fort St. John; of fair curls and sweet childish limbs, and a mouth shouting to send echoes through the river gorge; of scamperings on the flags of the hall; and of the erect and princely carriage of that diminutive presence the men had called ”my little lord.”
”But it is better for the boy that he died, Marie,” murmured La Tour.
”He has no part in these times. He might have survived us to see his inheritance stripped from him.”
They were silent until Marie said, ”You have a long march before you to-morrow, monsieur.”
”Yes; we ought to throw ourselves into these mangers,” said La Tour.
One wall was lined with bunks like those in the outer room. In the lower row travelers' preparations were already made for sleeping.
”I am yet of the mind, monsieur,” observed Marie, ”that you should have made this journey entirely by sea.”
”It would cost me too much in time to round Cape Sable twice. Nicholas Denys can furnish s.h.i.+p as well as men, if he be so minded. My lieutenant in arms next to Edelwald,” said La Tour, smiling over her, ”my equal partner in troubles, and my lady of Fort St. John will stand for my honor and prosperity until I return.”
Marie smiled back.
”D'Aulnay has a fair wife, and her husband is rich, and favored by the king, and has got himself made governor of Acadia in your stead. She sits in her own hall at Port Royal: but poor Madame D'Aulnay! She has not thee!”
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