CHAPTER XX.
THE BLOOD ON THE KERCHIEF
The most familiar servants of my Lord of Guise dared not awake theirmaster. He had cast himself down on the great bed in his chamber when hecame in late, or rather early--no man cared to ask which--from thelodging of Monsieur de Noirmoutier. Even his bravest gentlemen feared todisturb him, though the King's messenger had come twice to summon him toa council meeting at the Chateau.
"Early--very early? Well, what is that to me?" said the herald. "Bidyour master come to the King!"
"The King! Who is he?" cried insolently the young De Bar. "Brother Henrythe Monk may be your master--he is not ours."
"Hush!" said the aged Raincy, Guise's privileged major-domo andconfidant, the only man from whom the Duke took advice, "it were wiserto send a message that my Lord of Guise is ill, but that he will beinformed of the King's command and will be at the Chateau as soon aspossible."
Guise finally awoke at eight, and looking out, shivered a little at thesight of as dismal a dawning as ever broke over green Touraine. It hadbeen raining all night, and, indeed, when the Duke had come in from hissupper-party he had thrown himself down with but little ceremony ofundressing. This carelessness and his damp clothes had told upon him.
"A villain rheum," he cried, as he opened his eyes, to listenill-humouredly enough to Raincy's grave communication of the King'sdemand. "And what do you tell me? A villain day? Draw aside the curtainsthat I may see the better. What--snow? It was rain when I came in."
He sneezed twice, on which Raincy wished him a long life.
"'Tis more than the King of all the Penitent Monks wishes me," said theDuke, shovelling notes and letters of all shapes and sizes out of hispockets. Some had been crumpled in the palm of the hand scornfully, somerefolded meditatively, some twisted between the fingers into nervousspills, but by far the greater number had never been opened at all.
"See what they say, Raincy," cried the Duke. "I can dress myself--onedoes not need to go brave only to see the King of France playing monkeytricks in a turban and woman's dressing-gown, scented of musk andflounced in the fashion! Pah! But, Raincy, what a cold I have taken!'Tis well enough for a man when he is young to go out supping inDecember, but for me, at eight-and-thirty--I am raucous as a gallows'crow! Give me my cloak, Raincy, and order my horse!"
"But, Your Grace," gasped the alarmed Raincy, "you have had nobreakfast! Your Grace would not go thus to the council--you who are morepowerful than the King--nay, whom all France, save a few heretics andblusterers, wish to be king indeed!"
"Aye--aye--perhaps!" said Guise, not ill-pleased, "that may be verytrue. But the Bearnais does not pay these rogues and blusterers of his.That is his strength. See what an army he has, and never a sou do theysee from year's end to year's end! As for me"--here he took a paper outof his pocket-book, and made a rapid calculation--"to entertain a war inFrance, it were necessary to spend seven hundred thousand livres amonth. For our Leaguers cry 'vivas' with their mouths, but they will notlift a pike unless we pay them well for it!"
He folded the paper carefully, as if for future reference.
"What money have I, Raincy?" he said, flapping his empty purse on thetable; "not much, I fear. It is time I was leaving Blois, Raincy, if Iwish to go with decent credit!"
Now was the valet's chance, which he had been waiting for.
"Ay, it is indeed time--and high time," said Raincy, "if these lettersspeak true. Let us mount and ride to Soissons--only Your Grace and I, ifso it please you. But in an hour it may be too late."
The Duke of Guise laughed, and clapped his major-domo on the shoulder."Do not you also become a croaker," he cried; "leave me at least Raincy,who sees that the League holds the King in a cleft stick. My good man,he dare not--this Henry of the Fox's Heart. I have the clergy, theChurch, the people, most of the lords. The Parliament itself is filledwith our people. Blois, all except the Chateau, is crammed with our men,as a bladder is with lard!"
"Ah, except the Chateau," groaned Raincy; "but that is the point. Youare going to the Chateau, and the Fox is cunning--he has teeth as wellas another!"
"But he dares not trap the lion, Raincy," laughed Guise. "Why, you areas bad as Madame de Noirmoutier, who made me promise to ride off to-daylike a whipped cur--I, the Guise. There, no more, Raincy! I tell you Iwill dethrone the King. Then I will beat the Bearnais and take him aboutthe land as a show in a cage, for he will be the only Huguenot left inall the realm of France. Then you, Raincy, shall be my grand almoner. Bemy little one now! Quick, give me twelve golden crowns--that my purse,when I go among my foes, be not like that of my cousin of Navarre!"
As the major-domo went to seek the gold, Guise stretched his feet out tothe blaze and, with a smile on his face, hummed the chorus of theLeaguers' marching-song.
"I would I were a little less _balafre_ on such a cold morning,"grumbled the Duke; "scars honourable are all very well, but--give me ahandkerchief, Raincy. That arquebusier at Chateau Thierry fetched me avillain thwack on the cheek-bone, and on cold days one eye still weepsin sympathy with my misfortunes!"
"Ah, my good lord," said Raincy, "pray that before sundown this day manyan eye in France may not have cause to weep!"
"Silence there, old croaker," cried the Duke; "my sword--my cloak! What,have you so forgot your business in prating of France, that you will noteven do your office? Carry these things downstairs! A villain's day!--adog's day! The cold the wolf-packs bring when they come down to harrythe villages! Hold the stirrup, Raincy! Steady, lass! Wey there! Thoulovest not standing in the rain, eh? Wish me luck, Raincy. I carry thehope of France, you know--King Henry of Guise, and the throats of theProtestant dogs all cut--sleep on that sentiment, good Raincy."
And Raincy watched the Duke ride away towards the Castle of Blois. Thelast echo of his master's voice came back to him on the gusty Decemberwind:
"_The Guises are good men, good men, The Cardinal, and Henry, and Mayenne, Mayenne! For we'll fight till all be grey-- The Valois at our feet to-day--_"
Raincy stood awhile motionless, the tears running down his face. He wasabout to shut the door, when, just where the Duke had sprung upon hishorse, he caught the glimpse of something white on the black drip of theeaves. He stooped and picked it up. It was the handkerchief his masterhad bidden him fetch. It was adorned with the arms of Guise, the Liliesof France being in the centre. But now the _fleurs-de-lys_ were redlilies. The blood of the Guise had stained them.
And Raincy stood long, long there in the open street, the sleety snowfalling upon his grey head, the kerchief in his hand, marvelling at theportent.