CHAPTER L.
HAWKING.
Charles still read. In his curiosity he seemed to devour the pages, andeach page, as we have said, either because of the dampness to which ithad been exposed for so long or from some other cause, adhered to thenext.
With haggard eyes D'Alencon gazed at this terrible spectacle, the end ofwhich he alone could see.
"Oh!" he murmured, "what will happen? I shall go away, into exile, andseek an imaginary throne, while at the first news of Charles's illnessHenry will return to some fortified town near the capital, and watchthis prey sent us by chance, able at a single stride to reach Paris; sothat before the King of Poland even hears the news of my brother's deaththe dynasty will be changed. This cannot be!"
Such were the thoughts which dominated the first involuntary feeling ofhorror that had urged Francois to warn Charles. It was the never-failingfatality which seemed to preserve Henry and follow the Valois which theduke was again going to try to thwart. In an instant his whole plan withregard to Henry was altered. It was Charles and not Henry who had readthe poisoned book. Henry was to have gone, and gone condemned to die.The moment fate had again saved him, Henry must remain; for Henry wasless to be feared in the Bastille or as prisoner at Vincennes than asthe King of Navarre at the head of thirty thousand men.
The Duc d'Alencon let Charles finish his chapter, and when the King hadraised his head:
"Brother," said the duke, "I have waited because your Majesty ordered meto do so, but I regret it, because I have something of the greatestimportance to say to you."
"Go to the devil!" said Charles, whose cheeks were slowly turning a dullred, either because he had been too much engrossed in his reading orbecause the poison had begun to act. "Go to the devil! If you have cometo discuss that same subject again, you shall leave as did the King ofPoland. I rid myself of him, and I will do the same to you withoutfurther talk about it."
"It is not about my leaving, brother, that I want to speak to you, butabout some one else who is going away. Your Majesty has touched me in mymost sensitive point, my love for you as a brother, my devotion to youas a subject; and I hope to prove to you that I am no traitor."
"Well," said Charles, as he leaned his elbow on the book, crossed hislegs, and looked at D'Alencon like a man who is trying to be patient."Some fresh report, some accusation?"
"No, sire, a certainty, a plot, which my foolish scruples aloneprevented my revealing to you before."
"A plot?" said Charles, "well, let us hear about it."
"Sire," said Francois, "while your Majesty hawks near the river in theplain of Vesinet the King of Navarre will escape to the forest of SaintGermain, where a troop of friends will be waiting to flee with him."
"Ah, I knew it," said Charles, "another calumny against my poor Henry!When will you be through with him?"
"Your Majesty need not wait long at least to find out whether or notwhat I have just had the honor of telling you is a calumny."
"How so?"
"Because this evening our brother-in-law will be gone."
Charles rose.
"Listen," said he, "I will try for the last time to believe you; but Iwarn you, both you and your mother, that it will be the last time."
Then raising his voice:
"Summon the King of Navarre!" he cried.
A guard started to obey, but Francois stopped him with a gesture.
"This is a poor way, brother, to learn anything," said he. "Henry willdeny, will give a signal, his accomplices will be warned and willdisappear. Then my mother and myself will be accused not only of beingvisionary but of being calumniators."
"What do you want, then?"
"In the name of our brotherly love I ask your Majesty to listen to me,in the name of my devotion, which you will realize, I want you to donothing hastily. Act so that the real culprit, who for two years hasbeen betraying your Majesty in will as well as in deed, may at last berecognized as guilty by an infallible proof, and punished as hedeserves."
Charles did not answer, but going to a window raised it. The blood wasrushing to his head.
Then turning round quickly:
"Well!" said he, "what would you do? Speak, Francois."
"Sire," said D'Alencon, "I would surround the forest of Saint Germainwith three detachments of light horse, who at a given hour, eleveno'clock, for instance, should start out and drive every one in theforest to the Pavilion of Francis I., which I would, as if by chance,have indicated as the meeting-place. Then I would spur on, as iffollowing my falcon, to the meeting-place, where Henry should becaptured with his companions."
"The idea is good," said the King; "summon the captain of the guards."
D'Alencon drew from his doublet a silver whistle, suspended from a goldchain, and raised it to his lips.
De Nancey appeared.
Charles gave him some orders in a low tone.
Meanwhile Acteon, the great greyhound, had dragged a book from thetable, and was tossing it about the room, making great bounds after it.
Charles turned round and uttered a terrible oath. The book was theprecious treatise on hunting, of which there existed only three copiesin the world.
The punishment was proportionate to the offence.
Charles seized a whip and gave the dog three whistling blows.
Acteon uttered a howl, and fled under a table covered with a large clothwhich served him as a hiding-place.
Charles picked up the book and saw with joy that only one leaf was gone,and that was not a page of the text, but an engraving. He placed thevolume carefully away on a shelf where Acteon could not reach it.D'Alencon looked anxiously at him. Now that the book had fulfilled itsdread mission he would have liked to see it out of Charles's hands.
Six o'clock struck. It was time for the King to descend to thecourt-yard, already filled with horses richly caparisoned, and elegantlydressed ladies and gentlemen. The hunters held on their wrists theirhooded falcons; some outriders carried horns wound with scarfs, in casethe King, as sometimes happened, grew weary of hawking, and wished tohunt a deer or a chamois.
Charles closed the door of his armory and descended. D'Alencon watchedeach movement closely, and saw him put the key in his pocket.
As he went down the stairs Charles stopped and raised his hand to hishead.
The limbs of the Duc d'Alencon trembled no less than did those of theKing.
"It seems to me," said the duke, "that there is going to be a storm."
"A storm in January!" said Charles; "you are mad. No, I am dizzy, myskin is dry, I am weak, that is all."
Then in a low tone:
"They will kill me," he murmured, "with their hatred and their plots."
But on reaching the court the fresh morning air, the shouts of thehunters, the loud greetings of the hundred people gathered there,produced their usual effect on Charles.
He breathed freely and happily. His first thought was for Henry, who wasbeside Marguerite.
This excellent couple seemed to care so much for each other that theywere unable to be apart.
On perceiving Charles, Henry spurred his horse, and in three bounds wasbeside him.
"Ah, ah!" said Charles, "you are mounted as if you were going to huntthe stag, Henriot; but you know we are going hawking to-day."
Then without waiting for a reply:
"Forward, gentlemen, forward! we must be hunting by nine o'clock!" andCharles frowned and spoke in an almost threatening tone.
Catharine was watching everything from a window, behind which a curtainwas drawn back, showing her pale face. She herself was dressed in blackand was hidden from view.
At the order from Charles all this gilded, embroidered, perfumed crowd,with the King at its head, lengthened out to pass through the gate ofthe Louvre, and swept like an avalanche along the road to Saint Germain,amid the shouts of the people, who saluted the young King as he rode by,thoughtful and pensive, on his white horse.
"What did he say to you?" asked Marguerite of Henry.
"He congratulated me on the speed of my horse."
"Was that all?"
"Yes."
"Then he suspects something."
"I fear so."
"Let us be cautious."
Henry's face lighted up with one of his beautiful smiles, which meantespecially to Marguerite, "Be easy, my love." As to Catharine, scarcelyhad the cortege left the court of the Louvre before she dropped thecurtain.
But she had not failed to see one thing, namely, Henry's pallor, hisnervousness, and his low-toned conversation with Marguerite.
Henry was pale because, not having physical courage, his blood, underall circumstances in which his life was at stake, instead of rushing tohis head, as is usually the case, flowed to his heart. He was nervousbecause the manner in which he had been received by Charles, sodifferent from usual, had made a deep impression on him. Finally, he hadconferred with Marguerite because, as we know, the husband and wife hadformed, so far as politics were concerned, an alliance offensive anddefensive.
But Catharine had interpreted these facts differently.
"This time," she murmured, with her Florentine smile, "I think I mayrely on my dear Henriot."
Then to satisfy herself, having waited a quarter of an hour to give theparty time to leave Paris, she went out of her room, mounted the windingstaircase, and with the help of her pass-key opened the door of theapartments of the King of Navarre. She searched, but in vain, for thebook. In vain she looked on every table, shelf, and in every closet;nowhere could she find it.
"D'Alencon must have taken it away," said she, "that was wise."
And she descended to her own chamber, quite sure this time that her planwould succeed.
The King went on towards Saint Germain, which he reached after a rapidride of an hour and a half. They did not ascend to the old castle, whichrose dark and majestic in the midst of the houses scattered over themountain. They crossed the wooden bridge, which at that time wasopposite the tree to-day called the "Sully Oak." Then they signed forthe boats adorned with flags which followed the hunting-party to aid theKing and his suite in crossing the river. This was done. Instantly allthe joyous procession, animated by such varied interests, again began tomove, led by the King, over the magnificent plain which stretched fromthe wooded summit of Saint Germain, and which suddenly assumed theappearance of a great carpet covered with people, dotted with a thousandcolors, and of which the river foaming along its banks seemed a silverfringe.
Ahead of the King, still on his white horse and holding his favoritefalcon, rode the beaters, in their long green close-fitting coats andhigh boots, calling now and then to the half dozen great dogs, andbeating, with their whips, the reeds which grew along the river banks.
At that moment the sun, until then hidden behind a cloud, suddenly burstforth and lighted with one of its rays all that procession of gold, allthe ornaments, all the glowing eyes, and turned everything into atorrent of flame. Then, as if it had waited for that moment so that thesun might shine on its defeat, a heron rose from the midst of the reedswith a prolonged and plaintiff cry.
"Haw! Haw!" cried Charles, unhooding his falcon and sending it after thefugitive.
"Haw! Haw!" cried every voice to encourage the bird.
The falcon, dazzled for an instant by the light, turned, described acircle, then suddenly perceiving the heron, dashed after it.
But the heron, like a prudent bird, had risen a hundred yards before thebeaters, and while the King had been unhooding his falcon, and while thelatter had been growing accustomed to the light, it had gained aconsiderable height, so that by the time its enemy saw it, it had risenmore than five hundred feet, and finding in the higher zones the airnecessary for its powerful wings, continued to mount rapidly.
"Haw! Haw! Iron Beak!" cried Charles, cheering his falcon. "Show us thatyou are a thoroughbred! Haw! Haw!"
As if it understood the words the noble bird rose like an arrow,described a diagonal line, then a vertical one, as the heron had done,and mounted higher as though it would soon disappear in the upper air.
"Ah! coward!" cried Charles, as if the fugitive could hear him, and,spurring his horse, he followed the flight of the birds as far as hecould, his head thrown back so as not to lose sight of them for aninstant. "Ah! double coward! You run! My Iron Beak is a thoroughbred;on! on! Haw, Iron Beak! Haw!"
The contest was growing exciting. The birds were beginning to approacheach other, or rather the falcon was nearing the heron. The onlyquestion was which could rise the higher.
Fear had stronger wings than courage. The falcon passed under the heron,and the latter, profiting by its advantage, dealt a blow with its longbeak.
The falcon, as though hit by a dagger, described three circles,apparently overcome, and for an instant it looked as if the bird wouldfall. But like a warrior, who when wounded rises more terrible thanbefore, it uttered a sharp and threatening cry, and went after theheron. The latter, making the most of its advantage, had changed thedirection of its flight and turned toward the forest, trying this timeto gain in distance instead of in height, and so escape. But the falconwas indeed a thoroughbred, with the eye of a gerfalcon.
It repeated the same manoeuvre, rose diagonally after the heron, whichgave two or three cries of distress and strove to rise perpendicularlyas at first.
At the end of a few seconds the two birds seemed again about todisappear. The heron looked no larger than a lark, and the falcon was ablack speck which every moment grew smaller.
Neither Charles nor his suite any longer followed the flight of thebirds. Each one stopped, his eyes fixed on the clouds.
"Bravo! Bravo! Iron-beak!" cried Charles, suddenly. "See, see,gentlemen, he is uppermost! Haw! haw!"
"Faith, I can see neither of them," said Henry.
"Nor I," said Marguerite.
"Well, but if you cannot see them, Henry, you can hear them," saidCharles, "at least the heron. Listen! listen! he asks quarter!"
Two or three plaintive cries were heard which a practised ear alonecould detect.
"Listen!" cried Charles, "and you will see them come down more quicklythan they went up."
As the King spoke, the two birds reappeared. They were still only twoblack dots, but from the size of the dots the falcon seemed to beuppermost.
"See! see!" cried Charles, "Iron Beak has him!"
The heron, outwitted by the bird of prey, no longer strove to defenditself. It descended rapidly, constantly struck at by the falcon, andanswered only by its cries. Suddenly it folded its wings and droppedlike a stone; but its adversary did the same, and when the fugitiveagain strove to resume its flight a last blow of the beak finished it;it continued to fall, turning over and over, and as it touched the earththe falcon swooped down and uttered a cry of victory which drowned thecry of defeat of the vanquished.
"To the falcon! the falcon!" shouted Charles, spurring his horse to theplace where the birds had fallen. But suddenly he reined in his steed,uttered a cry, dropped his bridle, and grasping his horse's mane withone hand pressed the other to his stomach as though he would tear outhis very vitals.
All the courtiers hastened to him.
"It is nothing, nothing," said Charles, with inflamed face and haggardeye; "it seemed as if a red-hot iron were passing through me just now;but forward! it is nothing."
And Charles galloped on.
D'Alencon turned pale.
"What now?" asked Henry of Marguerite.
"I do not know," replied she; "but did you see? My brother was purple inthe face."
"He is not usually so," said Henry.
The courtiers glanced at one another in surprise and followed the King.
They arrived at the scene of combat. The falcon had already begun topeck at the head of the heron.
Charles sprang from his horse to obtain a nearer view; but on alightinghe was obliged to seize hold of the saddle. The ground seemed to spinunder him. He felt very sleepy.
"Brother! Brother!" cried Marguerite; "what is the matter?" r />
"I feel," said Charles, "as Portia must have felt when she swallowed herburning coals. I am burning up and my breath seems on fire."
Charles exhaled his breath and seemed surprised not to see fire issuefrom his lips.
The falcon had been caught and hooded again, and every one had gatheredaround the King.
"Why, what does it mean? Great Heavens! It cannot be anything, or if itis it must be the sun which is affecting my head and blinding my eyes.So on, on, to the hunt, gentlemen! There is a whole flight of herons.Unhood the falcons, all of them, by Heaven! now for some sport!"
Instantly five or six falcons were unhooded and let loose. They rose inthe direction of the prey, while the entire party, the King at theirhead, reached the bank of the river.
"Well! what do you say, madame?" asked Henry of Marguerite.
"That the moment is favorable, and that if the King does not look backwe can easily reach the forest from here."
Henry called the attendant who was carrying the heron, and while thenoisy, gilded avalanche swept along the road which to-day is a terracehe remained behind as if to examine the dead bird.