CHAPTER XLVI. OTHERS IN THE PARK
Chauvelin and his picked escort had in the meanwhile detached themselvesfrom the main body of the squad. Soon the dull thud of their horses'hoofs treading the soft ground came more softly--then more softly stillas they turned into the wood, and the purple shadows seemed to enfoldevery sound and finally to swallow them completely.
Armand and Marguerite from the depth of the carriage heard Heron's voiceordering his own driver now to take the lead. They sat quite still andwatched, and presently the other coach passed them slowly on the road,its silhouette standing out ghostly and grim for a moment against theindigo tones of the distant country.
Heron's head, with its battered sugar-loaf hat, and the soiled bandageround the brow, was as usual out of the carriage window. He leeredacross at Marguerite when he saw the outline of her face framed by thewindow of the carriage.
"Say all the prayers you have ever known, citizeness," he said with aloud laugh, "that my friend Chauvelin may find Capet at the chateau, orelse you may take a last look at the open country, for you will not seethe sun rise on it to-morrow. It is one or the other, you know."
She tried not to look at him; the very sight of him filled her withhorror--that blotched, gaunt face of his, the fleshy lips, that hideousbandage across his face that hid one of his eyes! She tried not to seehim and not to hear him laugh.
Obviously he too laboured under the stress of great excitement. So fareverything had gone well; the prisoner had made no attempt at escape,and apparently did not mean to play a double game. But the crucial hourhad come, and with it darkness and the mysterious depths of the forestwith their weird sounds and sudden flashes of ghostly lights. Theynaturally wrought on the nerves of men like Heron, whose consciencemight have been dormant, but whose ears were nevertheless filled withthe cries of innocent victims sacrificed to their own lustful ambitionsand their blind, unreasoning hates.
He gave sharp orders to the men to close up round the carriages, andthen gave the curt word of command:
"En avant!"
Marguerite could but strain her ears to listen. All her senses, all herfaculties had merged into that of hearing, rendering it doubly keen. Itseemed to her that she could distinguish the faint sound--that even asshe listened grew fainter and fainter yet--of Chauvelin and his squadmoving away rapidly into the thickness of the wood some distance alreadyahead.
Close to her there was the snorting of horses, the clanging and noise ofmoving mounted men. Heron's coach had taken the lead; she could hear thecreaking of its wheels, the calls of the driver urging his beasts.
The diminished party was moving at foot-pace in the darkness that seemedto grow denser at every step, and through that silence which was so fullof mysterious sounds.
The carriage rolled and rocked on its springs; Marguerite, giddy andovertired, lay back with closed eyes, her hand resting in that ofArmand. Time, space and distance had ceased to be; only Death, thegreat Lord of all, had remained; he walked on ahead, scythe on skeletonshoulder, and beckoned patiently, but with a sure, grim hand.
There was another halt, the coach-wheels groaned and creaked on theiraxles, one or two horses reared with the sudden drawing up of the curb.
"What is it now?" came Heron's hoarse voice through the darkness.
"It is pitch-dark, citizen," was the response from ahead. "The driverscannot see their horses' ears. They wait to know if they may light theirlanthorns and then lead their horses."
"They can lead their horses," replied Heron roughly, "but I'll have nolanthorns lighted. We don't know what fools may be lurking behind trees,hoping to put a bullet through my head--or yours, sergeant--we don'twant to make a lighted target of ourselves--what? But let the driverslead their horses, and one or two of you who are riding greys mightdismount too and lead the way--the greys would show up perhaps in thiscursed blackness."
While his orders were being carried out, he called out once more:
"Are we far now from that confounded chapel?"
"We can't be far, citizen; the whole forest is not more than six leagueswide at any point, and we have gone two since we turned into it."
"Hush!" Heron's voice suddenly broke in hoarsely. "What was that?Silence, I say. Damn you--can't you hear?"
There was a hush--every ear straining to listen; but the horses werenot still--they continued to champ their bits, to paw the ground, andto toss their heads, impatient to get on. Only now and again therewould come a lull even through these sounds--a second or two, mayhap,of perfect, unbroken silence--and then it seemed as if right through thedarkness a mysterious echo sent back those same sounds--the champing ofbits, the pawing of soft ground, the tossing and snorting of animals,human life that breathed far out there among the trees.
"It is citizen Chauvelin and his men," said the sergeant after a while,and speaking in a whisper.
"Silence--I want to hear," came the curt, hoarsely-whispered command.
Once more every one listened, the men hardly daring to breathe, clingingto their bridles and pulling on their horses' mouths, trying to keepthem still, and again through the night there came like a faint echowhich seemed to throw back those sounds that indicated the presence ofmen and of horses not very far away.
"Yes, it must be citizen Chauvelin," said Heron at last; but the tone ofhis voice sounded as if he were anxious and only half convinced; "but Ithought he would be at the chateau by now."
"He may have had to go at foot-pace; it is very dark, citizen Heron,"remarked the sergeant.
"En avant, then," quoth the other; "the sooner we come up with him thebetter."
And the squad of mounted men, the two coaches, the drivers and theadvance section who were leading their horses slowly restarted on theway. The horses snorted, the bits and stirrups clanged, and the springsand wheels of the coaches creaked and groaned dismally as the ramshacklevehicles began once more to plough the carpet of pine-needles that laythick upon the road.
But inside the carriage Armand and Marguerite held one another tightlyby the hand.
"It is de Batz--with his friends," she whispered scarce above herbreath.
"De Batz?" he asked vaguely and fearfully, for in the dark he could notsee her face, and as he did not understand why she should suddenly betalking of de Batz he thought with horror that mayhap her prophecy anentherself had come true, and that her mind wearied and over-wrought--hadbecome suddenly unhinged.
"Yes, de Batz," she replied. "Percy sent him a message, through me,to meet him--here. I am not mad, Armand," she added more calmly. "SirAndrew took Percy's letter to de Batz the day that we started fromParis."
"Great God!" exclaimed Armand, and instinctively, with a sense ofprotection, he put his arms round his sister. "Then, if Chauvelin or thesquad is attacked--if--"
"Yes," she said calmly; "if de Batz makes an attack on Chauvelin, orif he reaches the chateau first and tries to defend it, they will shootus... Armand, and Percy."
"But is the Dauphin at the Chateau d'Ourde?"
"No, no! I think not."
"Then why should Percy have invoked the aid of de Batz? Now, when--"
"I don't know," she murmured helplessly. "Of course, when he wrote theletter he could not guess that they would hold us as hostages. He mayhave thought that under cover of darkness and of an unexpected attack hemight have saved himself had he been alone; but now--now that you and Iare here--Oh! it is all so horrible, and I cannot understand it all."
"Hark!" broke in Armand, suddenly gripping her arm more tightly.
"Halt!" rang the sergeant's voice through the night.
This time there was no mistaking the sound; already it came from no fardistance. It was the sound of a man running and panting, and now andagain calling out as he ran.
For a moment there was stillness in the very air, the wind itselfwas hushed between two gusts, even the rain had ceased its incessantpattering. Heron's harsh voice was raised in the stillness.
"What is it now?" he demanded.
"A runner,
citizen," replied the sergeant, "coming through the wood fromthe right."
"From the right?" and the exclamation was accompanied by a volley ofoaths; "the direction of the chateau? Chauvelin has been attacked; he issending a messenger back to me. Sergeant--sergeant, close up round thatcoach; guard your prisoners as you value your life, and--"
The rest of his words were drowned in a yell of such violent fury thatthe horses, already over-nervous and fidgety, reared in mad terror,and the men had the greatest difficulty in holding them in. For a fewminutes noisy confusion prevailed, until the men could quieten theirquivering animals with soft words and gentle pattings.
Then the troopers obeyed, closing up round the coach wherein brother andsister sat huddled against one another.
One of the men said under his breath:
"Ah! but the citizen agent knows how to curse! One day he will break hisgullet with the fury of his oaths."
In the meanwhile the runner had come nearer, always at the samebreathless speed.
The next moment he was challenged:
"Qui va la?"
"A friend!" he replied, panting and exhausted. "Where is citizen Heron?"
"Here!" came the reply in a voice hoarse with passionate excitement."Come up, damn you. Be quick!"
"A lanthorn, citizen," suggested one of the drivers.
"No--no--not now. Here! Where the devil are we?"
"We are close to the chapel on our left, citizen," said the sergeant.
The runner, whose eyes were no doubt accustomed to the gloom, had drawnnearer to the carriage.
"The gates of the chateau," he said, still somewhat breathlessly, "arejust opposite here on the right, citizen. I have just come throughthem."
"Speak up, man!" and Heron's voice now sounded as if choked withpassion. "Citizen Chauvelin sent you?"
"Yes. He bade me tell you that he has gained access to the chateau, andthat Capet is not there."
A series of citizen Heron's choicest oaths interrupted the man's speech.Then he was curtly ordered to proceed, and he resumed his report.
"Citizen Chauvelin rang at the door of the chateau; after a while he wasadmitted by an old servant, who appeared to be in charge, but the placeseemed otherwise absolutely deserted--only--"
"Only what? Go on; what is it?"
"As we rode through the park it seemed to us as if we were beingwatched, and followed. We heard distinctly the sound of horses behindand around us, but we could see nothing; and now, when I ran back, againI heard. There are others in the park to-night besides us, citizen."
There was silence after that. It seemed as if the flood of Heron'sblasphemous eloquence had spent itself at last.
"Others in the park!" And now his voice was scarcely above a whisper,hoarse and trembling. "How many? Could you see?"
"No, citizen, we could not see; but there are horsemen lurking round thechateau now. Citizen Chauvelin took four men into the house with him andleft the others on guard outside. He bade me tell you that it might besafer to send him a few more men if you could spare them. There area number of disused farm buildings quite close to the gates, and hesuggested that all the horses be put up there for the night, and thatthe men come up to the chateau on foot; it would be quicker and safer,for the darkness is intense."
Even while the man spoke the forest in the distance seemed to wake fromits solemn silence, the wind on its wings brought sounds of life andmovement different from the prowling of beasts or the screeching ofnight-birds. It was the furtive advance of men, the quick whispers ofcommand, of encouragement, of the human animal preparing to attack hiskind. But all in the distance still, all muffled, all furtive as yet.
"Sergeant!" It was Heron's voice, but it too was subdued, and almostcalm now; "can you see the chapel?"
"More clearly, citizen," replied the sergeant. "It is on our left; quitea small building, I think."
"Then dismount, and walk all round it. See that there are no windows ordoor in the rear."
There was a prolonged silence, during which those distant sounds of menmoving, of furtive preparations for attack, struck distinctly throughthe night.
Marguerite and Armand, clinging to one another, not knowing what tothink, nor yet what to fear, heard the sounds mingling with thoseimmediately round them, and Marguerite murmured under her breath:
"It is de Batz and some of his friends; but what can they do? What canPercy hope for now?"
But of Percy she could hear and see nothing. The darkness and thesilence had drawn their impenetrable veil between his unseen presenceand her own consciousness. She could see the coach in which he was, butHeron's hideous personality, his head with its battered hat and soiledbandage, had seemed to obtrude itself always before her gaze, blottingout from her mind even the knowledge that Percy was there not fiftyyards away from her.
So strong did this feeling grow in her that presently the awful dreadseized upon her that he was no longer there; that he was dead, worn outwith fatigue and illness brought on by terrible privations, or if notdead that he had swooned, that he was unconscious--his spirit absentfrom his body. She remembered that frightful yell of rage and hate whichHeron had uttered a few minutes ago. Had the brute vented his fury onhis helpless, weakened prisoner, and stilled forever those lips that,mayhap, had mocked him to the last?
Marguerite could not guess. She hardly knew what to hope. Vaguely, whenthe thought of Percy lying dead beside his enemy floated through heraching brain, she was almost conscious of a sense of relief at thethought that at least he would be spared the pain of the final,inevitable cataclysm.