CHAPTER LV
THE RED MILK
Darkly and swiftly the autumn night descended upon Machecoul. In thestreets of the little feudal bourg there were few passers-by, and suchas there were clutched their cloaks tighter round them and scurriedon. Or if they raised their heads, it was only to take a hasty,fearful glance at the vast bulk of the castle looming imminent abovethem.
From a window high in the central keep a red light streamed out, andwhen the clouds flew low, strange dilated shadows were wont to be castupon the rolling vapour. Sometimes smoke, acrid and heavy, belliedforth, and anon wild cries of pain and agony floated down to silencethe footfalls of the home-returning rustics and chill the hearts ofburghers trembling in their beds.
But none dared to question in public the doings of the great andpuissant lord of all the country of Retz. It fared not well with himwho even looked too much at the things which were done.
The night was yet darker up aloft in the Castle of Machecoul itself.In the sacristy good Father Blouyn, with an air of resignedreluctance, was handing over to an emissary of his master the mouldsin which the tall altar candles for the Chapel of the Holy Innocentswere usually cast and compacted. And as Clerk Henriet went out withthe moulds he took a long look through a private spy-hole at the ladsof the choir who were sitting in the hall apportioned to their use.They were supposed to be busy with their lessons, and, indeed, a fewwere poring over their books with some show of studious absorption.But for the most part they were playing at cards and dominos, or, inthe absence of the master, sticking intimate pins and throwing aboutindiscriminate ink, according to the immemorial use of the choir-boy.
Clerk Henriet counted them twice over and in especial looked carefullyto see what did the young Scots lad, who had so mysteriously escapedfrom the dread room of his master. Laurence MacKim played X's and O'supon a board with Blaise Renouf, the precentor's son, and at somehitch in the game he incontinently clouted the Frenchman upon the ear.Whereupon ensued trouble and the spilling of much ink.
Henriet, perfectly satisfied, took up the heavy moulds and made hisway to his lord's chamber, where many things were used for purposesother than those for which they had been intended.
Upon the back of his departure came in the Precentor Renouf, who laidhis baton conjointly and freely about the ears of his son and those ofLaurence MacKim.
"Get to your beds both of you, and that supperless, for uproar andconduct ill becoming two youths who worship God all day in hissanctuary, and are maintained at grievous expense by our most devoutand worthy lord, Messire Gilles of Laval and Retz, Seigneur and Lord!"
Laurence, who had of set purpose provoked the quarrel, was slinkingaway, when the "Psalta" (as the choir-master is called in lowerBrittany) ordered them to sleep in separate rooms for the betterkeeping of the peace.
"And do you, Master Laurence, perform your vigil of the night upon thepavement of the chapel. For you are the most rebellious andtroublesome of all--indeed, past bearing. Go! Not a word, sirrah!"
So, much rejoiced in heart that matters had thus fallen out, LaurenceMacKim betook himself to the Chapel of the Holy Innocents, and wasduly locked in by the irate precentor.
For, upon various occasions, he had watched the Lord of Retz descendinto the chapel by a private staircase which opened out in an anglebehind the altar. He had also seen Poitou, his confidentialbody-servant, lock it after him with a small key of a yellow colourwhich he took from his fork pocket.
Now Master Laurence, as may have already been observed, was (like mostof the youthful unordained clergy) little troubled, at least in minormatters, with scruples about such slight distinctions as those whichdivide _meum_ and _tuum_. He found no difficulty therefore inabstracting this key when Poitou was engaged in attending his masterfrom the chapel, in which service it was his duty to pass the stallswith open lattice ends of carven work in which sat the elderchoir-boys. Having secured the key, Laurence hid it instantly beneaththe leaden saint on his cap, refastening the long pin which kept ourLady of Luz in her place through the fretwork of the little brazenkey.
Presently he saw Poitou come back and look carefully here and thereupon the floor, but after a while, not finding anything, he went outagain to search elsewhere.
The idea had come to Laurence that at the head of the stairway fromthe chapel was the prison chamber of Maud Lindesay and her ward, thelittle Maid Margaret of Galloway.
He told himself at least that this was his main object, and doubtlesshe had the matter in his mind. But a far stronger motive was hiscuriosity and the magic influence of the mysterious and the unknownupon the heart of youth.
More than to deliver Margaret of Galloway, Laurence longed to lookagain upon the iron altar and to know the truth concerning the strangesacrifices which were consummated there. And he yearned to see againthat rough-eared image graven after the fashion of a man.
And the reason was not far to seek.
For if even the worship of the High God, according to the practice ofthe most enlightened nations, grounds itself upon blood and sacrifice,what wonder if, in the worship of the lords of Hell, the blood of theinnocent is an oblation well pleasing and desirable.
Rooted and ineradicable is the desire in man's heart to know good andevil--but particularly evil. And so now Laurence desired to see thesacrifice laid between the horns of the altar and the image above leanover as if to gloat upon the sweet savour of its burning.
Long and carefully Laurence listened before he ventured forth. TheChapel of the Innocents was dark and silent. Only a reflection of thered light which burned in the keep struck through the clerestory uponthe great cross which swung above the altar. This, being dispersedlike a halo about the sign of Christ's redemption, rendered the cornerwhere was placed the door into the secret stairway light enough toenable the youth to insert therein Poitou's key. The wards were turnedwith well-accustomed smoothness.
Carefully shutting the door behind him so that if any one chanced toenter the chapel nothing would be observed, Laurence set his feet uponthe steps and began his adventure of supreme peril.
It was a narrow staircase, only wide enough indeed for one to ascendor descend at once. And the heart of Laurence sank within him at thethought of meeting the dread Lord of Machecoul face to face in itsstrait, black spirals.
He accomplished the ascent, however, without incident, and, passingthrough another low arch, found himself at the end of the passage overagainst the door with the curious burned hieroglyphics imprinted uponit. There was no light in the corridor, and Laurence eagerly set hishand to the latch. It opened as before and admitted him at a touch.
The temple-like hall was silent and dim. Only an occasional thrill asif of an earthquake passed across it, waving the heavy hangings andbringing a hot breath of some strange heady perfume to the nostrils.Laurence, with a beating heart, ensconced himself in a hidden nookbehind the door. The niche was covered by a curtain and furnished witha grooved slab of marble placed there for some purpose he could notfathom.
Yet it was by no means wholly dark. A light shone into the Chapel ofEvil from the opposite side, and through it he could discern shadowscast upon the floors and striding gigantic across the roof, as unseenpersonages passed the light which streamed into the dusky temple.
In the gloomiest part of the background, hinted rather than seen, hecould make out the vast dark figure dominating the iron altar.
Then Laurence remembered that the chamber of the marshal lay on theother side--the room with the immense fireplace which he had onceentered and from which he had barely escaped with his life.
Little by little Laurence raised himself upon the grooved slab until,standing erect, he could see some small part of the whitewashed,red-floored chamber he remembered so well--only a strip, however,extending from the door through which he looked to the great fireplacewhereon the heaped wood had already been kindled.
At first all was confused. Laurence saw Henriet and Poitou goinghastily here and there, as servitors do who prepare for a gre
atfunction. Then came a pause, heavy with doom. On the back of this heheard or seemed to hear the frightened pleading of a child, the short,sharp commands of a soldier's voice, a sound as of a blow stricken,and then again a whimpering hush. Laurence leaned against the wallwith his face in his hands. He dared not look within. Then he liftedhis head, and lo! in the gloom it seemed as if the huge image hadturned towards him, and in a pleased, confidential way were noddingapproval of his presence.
He heard the voice of the Marshal de Retz again--this time kindly, andeven affectionate. Some one was not to be frightened. Some one was totake a draught from the goblet and fear nothing. They would not hurthim. They had but played with him.
Again Henriet and Poitou passed and repassed, and once Gilles de Silleflashed across the interspace handing a broad-edged gleaming knifeswiftly and surreptitiously to some one unseen.
Then came a short, sharp cry of agony, a gurgling moan, and black,blank, unutterable horror shut down on Laurence's spirit.
He sank down on his face behind the door and covered his eyes and earswith his hands. So he lay for a space without motion, almost withoutsense, upon the naked grooves of the marble slab. When he came tohimself, a dusky light was diffused through the chapel. As he lookedhe saw La Meffraye come to the door and set her face within, like somebird of night, hideous and foul. Then she returned and Gilles de Silleand Clerk Henriet came into the chapel bearing between them a greatgolden cup, filled (as it seemed by the care with which they carriedit) to the very brim with some precious liquid.
To them, all clad in a priest's robe of flame-coloured velvet,succeeded the Lord of Retz himself. He held in his hand like aservice-book the great manuscript written in red, which he had beentranscribing at Sybilla's entrance, and as he walked he chanted, witha strange intonation, words that thrilled the very soul of the youngman listening.
And yet, as Laurence looked forth from his hiding-place, it appearedthat the black statue nodded once more to him as one who would say,"Take note and remember what thou seest; for one day thy testimonyshall be needful."
These were the words he heard in the chanting monotone:
"O great and mighty Barran-Sathanas--my only lord and master, whomwith all due observance I do worship, look mercifully upon this thesacrifice of innocent blood; let it be grateful to thee--to whom allevil is as the breath of life!
"Hear us, O Barran-Sathanas! Thou hast been deaf in past days, becausewe served thee not without drawback or withholding, without sparingand without remorse. Because we hesitated to give thee the best, thedelicatest, the most pitiful. But now take this innocentest innocence.Behold I, Gilles de Retz, make to thee the matchless sacrifice of theRed Milk thou lovest.
"The Red Milk I pour for thee. The Red Milk I bring thee. The Red MilkI drink to thee--that thou mayest be pleased to restore vital energyand new youth to my veins, to make me strong as a young man in hisstrength, and wiser than the wisdom of age. Hear me, O great master ofall the evil of the universe, thou equal and coadjutor of the Masterof Good, hear and manifest thy so mighty power. Hear me and answer, OBarran-Sathanas!"
Gilles de Retz took the cup from the hands of the servitors. He seemedso weak with his crying that he could hardly hold it between histrembling palms.
He lifted his head and again cried aloud:
"See, I am weak, my Satan--see how I tremble. Strength is departedfrom me. Youth is dead. Help thy faithful servant, aid him to lift upthis precious oblation to thee!"
And as the great dusky image seemed to lean over him, with a hoarsecry Gilles de Retz raised the cup and held it high above his head. Ashe did so a beam, sudden as lightning, fell upon it, and with a quick,instinctive horror, Laurence saw that it was filled to the brim withblood fresh and red.
The marshal's voice strengthened.
"It is coming! It is coming! Barran manifests himself! O great lord,to thee I drain this draught!" cried Gilles de Retz. "The Red Milk,the precious milk of innocence, to thee I drink it!"
And he set the cup to his lips and drank deep and long.
* * * * *
"It comes. It fills me. I am strong. O Barran, give me yet morestrength. My limbs revive. My pulse beats. I am young as when I rodewith Dunois. Barran, thou art indeed mightier than God. I will givethee yet more and more. I swear it. I have kept the best wine till thelast--the death vintage of a great house. The wine of beauty andbrightness--I have kept it for thee. Halt not to make me stronger!Help me--Barran, help--I fail--!"
His voice had risen higher and higher till it was well nigh a screamof agony. Strangely too, in spite of the fictitious youth that glowedin his veins and coloured his cheek, it sounded like a senile shriek.
But all suddenly, at the very height of his exaltation, the cup fromwhich he had drunk slipped from his hand and rolled upon thetesselated pavement of the temple, staining it in gouts and vividblotches of crimson.
"Hasten, ere I lose the power--I feel it checked. Poitou, De Sille,Henriet, go bring hither from the White Tower the Scottish maids.Run, dogs--or you die! Quick, Henriet! Good De Sille, quick! Fail notyour master now! It ebbs, it weakens--and it was so near completion.Stay, O Barran, till I finish the sacrifice, and here at thy feetoffer up to thee the richest, and the fairest, and the noblest! Bringhither the maidens! I tell you, bring them quickly!"
And the terrible Lord of Retz, exhausted with his own fury, casthimself at the feet of the gigantic image, which, bending over him,seemed with the same grimace sardonically to mock alike his exaltationand his downfall.
But Laurence heard no more. For sense and feeling had wholly departedfrom him, and he lay as one dead behind the door of the temple ofBarran-Sathanas, Lord of Evil, in the thrice-abhorrent Castle ofMachecoul.