CHAPTER XLV
THE BOASTING OF GILLES DE SILLE
But, as fate would have it, it was not in the Hotel de Pornic nor yetin the city of Paris that Laurence O'Halloran was destined to enterthe service of the most mighty Marshal de Retz.
Not till three days after his converse with the prisoner did Laurencefind an opportunity of escaping from the house in the street of theUrsulines. Sholto and his father meantime kept their watch upon themansion of the enemy, turn and turn about; but without discoveringanything pertinent to their purpose, or giving Laurence a chance toget clear off with Gilles de Sille. The Lord James had also frequentlyadventured forth, as he declared, in order to spy out the land, thoughit is somewhat sad to relate that this espionage conducted itself inregions which gave more opportunities for investigating the peculiardelights of Paris than of discovering the whereabouts of Maud Lindesayand his cousin, the Fair Maid of Galloway.
The head of Gilles de Sille was still swathed in bandages when, withan additional swaddling of disguise across his eyes, he and Laurence,that truant scion of the house of O'Halloran, stole out into thenight. A frosty chill had descended with the darkness, and a pale,dank mist from the marshes of the Seine made the pair shiver as arm inarm they ventured carefully forth.
Laurence was doing a foolish, even a wicked, thing in thus, withoutwarning, deserting his companions. But he was just at the age when itis the habit of youth to deceive themselves with the thought that ashred of good intent covers a world of heedless folly.
The fugitives found the Hotel de Pornic practically deserted. Theyapproached it cautiously from the back, lest they should run into thearms of any of the numerous enemies of its terrible lord, who, thoughnot abhorred in Paris as in most other places which he favoured withhis visits, had yet little love spent upon him even there.
The custodian in the stone cell by the gate came yawning out to thebars at the sound of Gilles de Sille's knocking, and after a growl ofdisfavour admitted the youth and his companion.
"What, gone--my master gone!" cried Gilles, striking his hand on histhigh with an astounded air, "impossible!"
"It was, indeed, a thing particularly unthoughtful and discourteous ofmy Lord de Retz, Marshal of France and Chamberlain of the King, toundertake a journey without consulting you," replied the man, whoconsidered irony his strong point, but feebly concealing his pleasureat the favourite's discomfiture; "we all know upon what terms yourhonourable self is with my lord. But you must not blame him, for hewaited whole twenty-four hours for news of you. It was reported thatyou were set upon by four giants, and that your bones, crushed like afilbert, had been discovered in the horse pond at the back of theConvent of the Virgins of Complaisance."
Gilles de Sille looked as if he could very well have murdered thespeaker on the spot. His favour with his lord was evidently not athing of repute in his master's household. So much was clear toLaurence, who, for the first time, began to have fears as to his ownreception, having such an unpopular person as voucher and introducer.
"If you do not keep a civil tongue in your head, sirrah Labord,"--theyouth hissed the words through his clenched teeth,--"I will have yourthroat cut."
"Ah, I am too old," said the man, boldly; "besides, this is Paris, andI have been twenty years concierge to his Grace the Duke of Orleans. Iand my wife have his secrets even as you, most noble Sire de Sille,possess those of my new master. You, or he either, by God's grace,will think twice before cutting my throat. Moreover, you will be goodenough at this point to state your business or get to bed. For I amoff to mine. I serve my master, but I am not compelled to spend thenight parleying with his lacqueys."
Now the concierges of Paris are very free and independent personages,and their tongues are accustomed to wag freely and to some purpose intheir heads.
"Whither has my master gone?" asked de Sille, curbing his wrath inorder to get an answer.
"He _said_ that he went to Tiffauges. Whether that be true, you havebetter means of knowing than I."
The swarthy youth turned to Laurence.
"How much money have you, Master O'Halloran? I have spent all of mine,and this city swine will not lend me a single sou for my expenses. Wemust to the stables and follow the Sieur de Retz forthwith toBrittany."
"I have ten golden angels which the prior of the convent gave me atmy departure," said Laurence, with some pride.
His companion nodded approvingly.
"So much will see us through--that is, with care. Give them here tome," he added after a moment's thought; "I will pay them out with moreeconomy, being of the country through which we pass."
But Laurence, though sufficiently headlong and reckless, had not beenborn a Scot for naught.
"Wait till there is necessity," he replied cautiously, "and the angelsshall not be lacking. Till then they are quite safe with me. Forsecurity I carry them in a secret place ill to be gotten at hastily."
Gilles de Sille turned away with some movement of impatience, yetwithout saying another word upon the subject.
"To the stables," he said; then turning to the concierge he added, "Isuppose we can have horses to ride after my lord?"
"So far as I am concerned," growled Labord, "you can have all thehorses you want--and break your necks off each one of them if youwill. It will save some good hemp and hangman's hire. Such devil'sdogs as you two be bear your dooms ready written on your faces."
And this saying nettled our Laurence, who prided himself no little onan allure blonde and gallant.
But Gilles de Sille cared no whit for the servitor's sneers, so longas they got horses between their knees and escaped out of Paris thatnight. In an hour they were ready to start, and Laurence had expendedone of his gold angels on the provend for the journey, which hiscompanion and he stored in their saddle-bags.
And in this manner, like an idle lad who for mischief puts body and soulin peril, went forth Laurence MacKim to take up service with theredoubtable Messire Gilles de Laval, Sieur de Retz, High Chamberlain ofCharles the Seventh, Marshal of France, and lately companion-in-arms ofthe martyred Maid of Orleans.
Now, before he went forth from the street of the Ursulines, he hadlaid a sealed letter on the bed of his brother, which ran thus: "Ha,Sir Sholto MacKim, while you stand about in the rain and shiver underyour cloak, I am off to find out the mystery. When I have done allwithout assistance from the wise Sir Sholto, I will return. But notbefore. Fare your knightship well."
Laurence and Gilles de Sille rode out of Paris by the Versailles road,and the latter insisted on silence till they had passed the forest ofSt. Cyr, which was at that time exceedingly dangerous for horsemen nottravelling in large companies. Once they were fairly on the road toChartres, however, and clear of the valley of the Seine and itstangled boscage of trees, Gilles relaxed sufficiently to break abottle of wine to the success of their journey and to the new serviceand duty upon which Laurence was to enter at the end of it.
Having proposed this toast, he handed the bumper first to Laurence,who, barely tasting the excellent Poitevin vintage, handed theleathern bottle back to de Sille. That sallow youth immediately,without giving his companion a second chance, proceeded to quaff theentire contents of the pigskin.
Then as the stiff brew penetrated downwards, it was not long beforethe favourite of the marshal began to wax full of vanity and swellingwords.
"I tell you what it is," he said, "there would be trembling in theheart of a very great man when the nine cravens returned without me.For I am no shaveling ignoramus, but a gentleman of birth; aye, andone who, though poor, is a near cousin of the marshal himself. Iwarrant the rascals who ran away would smart right soundly for leavingme behind. For Gilles de Sille is no simpleton. He knows more than iswritten down in the catechism of Holy Church. None can touch my favourwith my lord, no matter what they testify against me. For me I haveonly to ask and have. That is why I take such pride in bringing you tomy Lord of Retz. I know that he will give you a post about his person,and if you are not a simple fool you may g
o very far. For my master isa friend of the King and, what is better, of Louis the Dauphin. He gatthe King back a whole province--a dukedom so they say, from the handsof some Scots fool that had it off his grandfather for deeds done inthe ancient wars. And in return the King will protect my masteragainst all his enemies. Do I not speak the truth?"
Laurence hoped that he did, but liked not the veiled hints andinsinuations of some surprising secret in the life of the marshal,possessed by his dear cousin and well-beloved servant Gilles de Sille.
With an ever loosening tongue the favourite went on:
"A great soldier is our master--none greater, not even Dunois himself.Why, he rode into Orleans at the right hand of the Maid. None in allthe army was so great with her as he. I tell you, Charles himselfliked it not, and that was the beginning of all the bother of talkabout my lord--ignorant gabble of the countryside I call it. Lord, ifthey only knew what I know, then, indeed--but enough. Marshal Gillesis a mighty scholar as well, and hath Henriet the clerk--a weak,bleating ass that will some day blab if my master permit me not toslice his gizzard in time--he hath him up to read aloud Latin by themile, all out of the books called Suetonius and Tacitus--suchhigh-flavoured tales and full of--well, of things such as my masterloves."
So ran Gilles de Sille on as the miles fled back behind their horses'heels and the towers of Chartres rose grey and solemn through themorning mists before the travellers.