Read My Sword's My Fortune: A Story of Old France Page 8


  CHAPTER VIII.

  The Plot is Discovered.

  "Is your master at home?" asked the Cardinal.

  "He is, my Lord," replied the man with a low bow; "but he is unwell,and has retired to rest."

  "Ah, my poor Martin, what a misfortune! but lead the way; he willdoubtless make an effort to receive an old friend like myself."

  While one servant made the door fast, the other went forward with thelantern, and we followed; the Cardinal, a trifle uneasy, glancingkeenly from side to side, as if half expecting to meet with somelurking enemy. Everything, however, seemed as usual. The lower partof the house was empty save for a woman cooking some savoury dish, andshe took not the slightest notice of us.

  The fellow with the lantern opened the door of the astrologer's room,and, lighting several wax candles, requested us to be seated while heinformed his master of our presence.

  As soon as he had gone, Mazarin ordered me to explore the part screenedby the curtains, which I did, sword in hand.

  "These conspirators are so crafty," he murmured, "that they make onecautious even in the house of a friend like the worthy Martin."

  "The room is empty, your Eminence."

  "Ah," said he with a sigh of relief, "then we can look forward with anuntroubled mind to meeting our kind host," and, laying aside his hatand cloak, he sat down.

  In a short time the astrologer entered the room. He had put ondressing-gown and slippers, and was wearing his black skull-cap. Hisface, always pale, had become white, there was a constant twitching atthe corners of his mouth, and the gray eyes I had thought so calm andpowerful, fell beneath the keen gaze of the Cardinal. In spite of histreachery, I pitied the man, and almost found it in my heart to wish Ihad not observed my cousin and his companion enter the house.

  Mazarin, fondling his beard, smiled pleasantly, and begged his host insuch soft cooing tones to be seated, that Martin threw off thehalf-alarmed expression his face had worn.

  "So you have been ill, my friend? _Per Baccho_! One can see it inyour face. Ah, now I can breathe more freely and laugh at my fears."

  I was standing between the table and the door, but in such a positionas to be able to watch the old man's face.

  "Fears, my lord?" he murmured questioningly.

  "Yes, yes, I was foolish enough to doubt your--vigilance."

  He purposely made a long pause between the last two words, during whichMartin sat like a man waiting to be hanged; then he recovered himselfand actually smiled.

  "Something has happened without my knowledge," said he briskly.

  "Without your knowledge, truly, my dear Martin, or you would have sentme word. As it is, I have to inform you that Paris has had adistinguished visitor."

  Martin went deathly pale again and murmured, "Surely it cannot be----"

  "Oh, no," interrupted Mazarin, smiling, "the Prince still occupies hisprison at Havre. But La Rochefoucauld is here to represent him. Ifyou go into the city you will hear the people crying for the release ofConde. They are not aware how comfortable he is. But you will not go!"

  "Why not, my lord?"

  "Because I have need of you. We must put our heads together, andunravel the mysteries of this plot. The matter is serious; all myenemies seem to be in league. Come now, do you fancy De Retz has beenbought?"

  I really felt sorry for the poor wretch with whom the Cardinal thusplayed as a cat plays with a mouse.

  "De Retz?" he stammered. "I should think it very likely; the otherscould accomplish nothing without him, because he controls the mob."

  "It is very unfortunate. You are aware he wishes to become a Cardinal,and now he will lose his chance. The red hat would have suited himwell, but I must give it to Riviere, the bosom friend of Orleans. Butperhaps even the Duke has been gained? What do you think, my dearMartin?" and the purring cat suddenly became a hissing serpent.

  The unhappy astrologer bent his head.

  "They must have secured him," he gasped like a man choking. "Theywould not dare to move without his support."

  "And the king of the markets?" asked Mazarin, who thus scornfullyreferred to the Duke of Beaufort.

  "He has powerful friends. His help would be valuable if there reallyis a conspiracy."

  Leaning back in his chair, Mazarin stroked his beard thoughtfully.Presently he began to purr, a sure sign that he had regained hiscomposure.

  "This union (which he pronounced _onion_) of parties is very touching,"said he, "yet in the interests of His Majesty it must be broken up,"and he looked so fixedly at Martin that the latter was compelled tomeet his gaze.

  "How say you?" he continued, "would that little monkey of a priest riseto the bait of a Cardinal's hat?"

  "It is probable, my Lord! That is, if the hat were a real one," atwhich Mazarin laughed loudly.

  "_Per Baccho!_" exclaimed he, "we would not attempt to deceive soskilful a plotter. Then that is settled! A cardinal's hat for DeRetz, and you shall make him our offer. But he must accept quickly; intwenty-four hours it will be too late. I am sorry to drag you fromyour sick bed, but the King's interests are above all."

  "Come," thought I, "it promises to turn out not so badly. Mazarin mustbe a good fellow in the main, to let the astrologer off so lightly."

  Martin, too, shared my satisfaction, especially when the Cardinal roseas if to depart. But the play-acting was not yet finished. I wasmoving towards the door when Mazarin suddenly sat down again.

  "I had almost forgotten," said he softly, "and yet it is veryimportant. I am about to set you a difficult task, my friend! no oneelse could do it, but then you are so wonderfully clever. Sit down andwrite a list of all those likely to have joined in this plot--men andwomen--the powerful and the insignificant; do not leave out one. Andif you can make a guess what each has promised the other, put that inalso. It will be interesting to see if our guesses are alike."

  Still Martin did not break down, but his voice was very unsteady as hereplied, "You over-rate my powers, my Lord, it would be impossible todo as you wish."

  "You may have some papers which will help you," said Mazarin quietly."Look them over, my friend, I can wait."

  At that the wretched man's courage forsook him, and, realising that histreachery was discovered, he flung himself at Mazarin's feet, crying,"Pardon me, Monseigneur, and you shall be told everything, but I havenot the papers."

  "Who has them?"

  "Madame Coutance! She promised to obtain the signature of the King'suncle."

  "That woman mixes herself up in everything," exclaimed Mazarin,irritably, "and does more harm by her folly than De Retz can manage byhis scheming. She must be kept quiet for a month or two. De Lalande,ask M. Belloc to station a carriage, six troopers, and a spare horse atthe corner of the Rue Crillon, and to remain there till he receivesfresh orders."

  I bowed, and leaving the room, hurried downstairs, where one of the menundid the fastenings of the door.

  "Do not replace the bar till my return," I said, "I shall be away ashort time only."

  Belloc, who was watching from his hiding-place, perceived meimmediately, and crossed the street.

  "What is it?" he asked anxiously. "Has anything gone wrong?"

  "No," said I, and delivered Mazarin's message.

  "Rue Crillon?" he exclaimed. "That is where Madame Coutance lives."

  "She is mixed up in the plot which Mazarin has discovered. I am sorryfor her niece."

  "Mazarin will do the maid no harm," exclaimed the old soldier. "I havealways found his bark worse than his bite. Are you sure that he isquite safe yonder?"

  "Everything appears as usual."

  "Still, in case you are sent on another message, it will be as wellthat the Cardinal has some protection," and he gave a private signalwhich quickly brought two soldiers to our side.

  "You are under the orders of M. de Lalande," he exclaimed, and, leavingme to return to the house, hurried off.

  "Affairs go well," said the Cardinal briskly, as I entered t
he room,"and the credit is yours, M. de Lalande. But for your sharp eyes Imight have failed to get on the track of this conspiracy against theKing. There is one thing more for you to do. Take this note to MadameCoutance in the Rue Crillon. It is a request by our dear Martin thatshe will give up the papers relating to the plot. You will pass themto M. Belloc with orders to bring them here at once."

  "Suppose the lady refuses to surrender them, my Lord?"

  "You will search her room, while this _lettre de cachet_ will secureher a lodging in the Bastille. If, on the other hand, she has the goodsense to yield quietly, you will simply escort her to her chateau. Thecarriage will be in readiness."

  I told him of the soldiers stationed in the corridor, and once moreleft the house. The night was growing late, and the streets, in spiteof the _falots_ filled with burning pitch, and the dingy lampssuspended by chains passing from one side of the road to the other,were almost in darkness.

  But Paris was wide awake and unduly excited. Swarms of people of thelowest class, unkempt, ragged, and frowsy, but all armed in somefashion, were prowling around intent on mischief, and cheering for DeRetz. Bands of Black Mantles, grave and preoccupied as became ownersof property, guarded the shops, in dread equally of the _canaille_ andthe nobles.

  These last swaggered about showing off their finery, singing noisily,and occasionally compelling the passers-by to cheer for Conde. Now andagain a coach, preceded by lackeys bearing flambeaux, would roll by,conveying ladies of distinction to or from some brilliant assembly.

  At the corner of the Rue Crillon I looked for M. Belloc, but some timepassed before he appeared, and then I could see nothing of a carriage.

  "In the yard of the 'Plume of Feathers,'" said he, in answer to myquestion; "it would attract too much attention standing here. Paris isin a turmoil to-night. I do not like the signs. The people arerestless without knowing why, though there is some talk of Conde'sreturning."

  "The Cardinal has first to unlock the door," I replied, at which theold warrior smiled grimly, thinking such a proceeding on Mazarin's partvery unlikely.

  "Why is the carriage required?" he asked.

  "To convey Madame Coutance either to the Bastille or to her own placeat Aunay. It is a troublesome business," and I explained just what myorders were.

  "Better get it over at once," he suggested, "it will be none thepleasanter for delay;" so, putting a bold face on the matter, I walkedto the door of the house, and inquired for Madame Coutance.

  "She is not at home, monsieur," replied the porter. "Both the ladieswent out early this evening with Madame de Chevreuse."

  I put several further questions, but the porter was either a verystupid man or a very faithful servant--he knew nothing, and I had toretire baffled.

  "They will return soon," said my companion, when I rejoined him,"unless madame has received a hint of her danger."

  "That is hardly probable! Even Mazarin had no suspicion until an hourago. But he will begin to wonder if anything has gone wrong."

  At the end of half an hour a carriage drew up before the door, andMarie and her aunt descended. They stood for a moment on the top ofthe steps, and then, as the vehicle passed on, entered the house.

  Leaving our post of observation, we crossed the road, and the servant,showing us into an ante-room, went to announce my name.

  "Get it over quickly," whispered M. Belloc, as the man returned. "Mostlikely there will be a few tears, but you must not mind those."

  I did not feel particularly happy as I followed the servant along thecorridor. The errand was far from my liking, and I would rather havestormed a breach; but, as I ate Mazarin's bread, it was my duty to obeyhis orders.

  The ladies were seated in a small but luxuriously appointed room, andMadame Coutance welcomed me with embarrassing warmth.

  "The hour is somewhat late," she said, "but I expect the Cardinal keepsyour time fully occupied. You do not favour us with much of yourcompany."

  "I am very unwilling to be here now," I blurted out, not knowing whatelse to say. "The fact is, I have come on an unwelcome errand," and,producing Martin's note, added, "that will explain the object of myvisit."

  I scarcely dared glance at Marie, who remained very still while heraunt was reading.

  M. Belloc had warned me to expect a few tears, but, instead of weeping,Madame Coutance launched into an angry speech against Mazarin, whom shecalled a wicked and infamous man, and concluded by a blunt refusal tosurrender any papers whatever.

  "But," I suggested feebly, being overwhelmed by her torrent of words,"you have no choice in the matter, madame. Unless you give me thislist of your own free will, my orders are to lodge you in the Bastille,and to search your rooms."

  "And if my aunt yields the papers?" asked Marie, who, I fancy, wasrather alarmed at the mention of the Bastille.

  "In that case, mademoiselle, the affair ends with a trip to Aunay. Acarriage is outside, and in ten minutes we leave for one place or theother."

  "Come, _ma chere_," said the girl soothingly, "you must submit. Lifein the Bastille cannot be nearly as pleasant as at Aunay."

  Madame Coutance opened a desk which stood in a corner of the tiny room,and drew out a roll of paper.

  "There is what your master wants!" she exclaimed angrily, "but let himtake care; it will be our turn soon."

  "Do you accompany us to Aunay?" asked Marie.

  "Yes, with an escort of troopers; for all the world as if you were twodesperate prisoners. I am really sorry, but perhaps you will objectless to me than to some rough soldier."

  "Indeed we shall," she replied. "When do we start?"

  "As soon as madame is ready," I answered. "The Cardinal likes notdelay."

  "In an hour then, though I do not care for travelling by night."

  "The carriage is roomy and comfortable; there is no danger, and perhapsyou will be able to sleep on the journey."

  Bowing to the ladies, I rejoined Belloc, who was waiting impatiently inthe ante-room.

  "Well?" he exclaimed.

  "It is all right. Here is the paper, and we leave for Aunay in anhour. I am not looking forward with any pleasure to the journey, I canassure you!"

  "You are obeying orders," said he, taking the paper. "Now I mustreturn to the Cardinal; and, by the by, take care of yourself! Thetroopers will be sufficient protection against robbers, but, should youmeet with any of Conde's friends, you may have to fight."

  "I hope not, at least until the ladies are safely disposed of."

  Wishing me good-bye, he walked away at a rapid pace, while I, glad ofthe chance to divert my thoughts, paid a visit to the inn. Thetroopers, who were in charge of a grizzled sergeant, had dismounted,and were amusing themselves in a small room looking into the courtyard.The sergeant saluted, listened respectfully to my order, andaccompanied me to inspect the carriage and horses.

  "Are we going far, monsieur?"

  "Two or three days' journey. I hope you can depend on your men? Theride may not be altogether a holiday jaunt."

  "I chose them myself, monsieur. They would as soon fight as eat, andhave all been in many a rough scrimmage."

  "They may be in another before long!" said I, remembering M. Belloc'swords; and then, bidding him have all in readiness, I returned to thehouse, wishing that Mazarin had entrusted this particular commission toany but myself.

  Yet, after all, the Cardinal had acted very generously. There wasreally no great hardship in being sent to one's country seat, and Isuspected that Marie would rather enjoy the change. As to her aunt,she would find it irksome, being a woman who could not live withoutexcitement of some sort.

  Presently the carriage rumbled to the door, and jumping up, I hurriedinto the hall, nearly falling over the servants, who were carrying rugsand shawls and various packages to the main entrance. When the parcelswere stowed away, I stepped forward to assist the ladies into thecoach, but Madame Coutance, who was still very sulky, haughtilydeclined my proffered help. However, I saw them safely
in, had theleathern coverings let down to exclude the night air, posted thetroopers in front of the carriage, mounted the spare horse--a splendidanimal by the way--and gave the word for the gate St. Denis.

  It was fortunate that the ladies had prevented an earlier start.Although late, numerous citizens were still abroad, and their curiositymade them troublesome. Twice the troopers were compelled to clear away for the coach by force, and, had the streets been more crowded, weshould never have reached the gate.

  "Down with Mazarin! To the lamp-post with the _Mazarins_!" yelled thepeople, but at sight of the grim sergeant and his stalwart trooperstheir courage oozed away. These night-birds were mostly followers ofDe Retz, but occasionally we met with a swaggering young noble or twowearing the colours of the great Conde.

  At the gate we were stopped by the officer on duty, who refused to letus pass, quoting an order from the Duke of Orleans to prevent allpersons from leaving the city. Even after inspecting my papers, whichwere signed by the Queen, he hesitated, declaring the Duke's commandswere strict.

  "As you please," said I, "only remember that Gaston of Orleans is notKing yet, and you will be guilty of the crime of high treason. Unlessthe gates are opened within five minutes, I shall return to the PalaisRoyal."

  The officer was a brave man, and had he served any other master woulddoubtless have stood his ground, but no one could depend on Gaston. Aslikely as not, if any trouble arose, the Duke would throw over his ownservant, and expose him to the vengeance of Mazarin.

  "Come," I said, when half the time had passed, "which is it to be?Will you take your orders from the Queen or from the Duke?"

  At the last minute, though still grumbling, he permitted us to continuethe journey, and the coach passed outside the city walls. For severalmiles we rode forward slowly, till the dawn of another day began toappear in the sky; then we quickened the pace, as I was anxious to getas far away from Paris as possible. It was scarcely likely that anyone would attempt a rescue, but so many foolish things were done inthose days that I did not feel at all secure.

  The road along which we travelled was lonely and deserted, the countrylooked very desolate, and even after the sun had risen there were fewpeople to be observed abroad. At that time I did not know what Iafterwards learned, that our route lay through a district which hadbeen swept bare again and again by the horrors of war.