Read The Women's War Page 6

The rider sat up.

  ‘… But on the way to that house, there, where the road bends, in that dark thicket, there are four men waiting in ambush for you.’

  ‘So!’ said the rider, staring hard at the pale young man. ‘So, really! Are you sure of this?’

  ‘I saw them coming one after the other, dismounting and hiding, some behind the trees and some behind the rocks. And then, when you emerged from the village just now, I heard them cocking their muskets.’

  ‘Well, now!’ said the rider, who was himself starting to feel alarmed.

  ‘Yes, Monsieur, it is as I said,’ the young man in the grey hat continued. ‘If it was a little lighter, you might be able to see them and recognize them.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t need to recognize them,’ said the traveller. ‘I’m perfectly aware of who they are. But who told you that I was going to that house and that I am the person for whom this ambush was laid?’

  ‘I guessed…’

  ‘You are a delightful Oedipus,20 thank you. So, they want to shoot me… And how many of them are there to carry out this mission?’

  ‘Four, one of them apparently the leader.’

  ‘This leader is older than the rest, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, as far as I can judge from here.’

  ‘Stooping?’

  ‘Round-shouldered, with white feather, embroidered jerkin, brown cloak – a man of few gestures, but a commanding manner.’

  ‘Precisely. It’s the Duke d’Epernon.’

  ‘The Duke d’Epernon!’21 the young man exclaimed.

  ‘Ah, now I’m telling you my business,’ said the traveller, with a laugh. ‘That’s the way I am, but no matter. You’re doing me a great enough service for me not to be over nice about such matters. And what were the men with him wearing?’

  ‘Grey cloaks.’

  ‘Exactly, those are his stave bearers.’

  ‘Who have today become musket bearers.’

  ‘By my honour, I am most obliged to you. Now, do you know what you should do, my young sir?’

  ‘No, but please tell me, and if what I should do can be of service to you, I have already agreed to it.’

  ‘Do you have any weapons?’

  ‘Yes, I have my sword.’

  ‘And do you have a servant with you?’

  ‘Of course, but not here. I sent him to meet someone I am expecting.’

  ‘Well, you should give me a hand.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘To attack those wretches and make them and their leader plead for mercy.’

  ‘Are you mad, Monsieur?’ the young man exclaimed, in a tone that suggested he was far from inclined to join such an adventure.

  ‘Of course, I apologize,’ said the traveller. ‘I was forgetting that the affair does not at all concern you.’ Then, turning towards his servant, who seeing his master stop had done the same, while keeping his distance, ‘Castorin,’ he said. ‘Come here.’

  At the same time he felt the holsters on his saddle, as though making sure that his pistols were in good order.

  ‘Monsieur, no!’ the young man cried, reaching out as though to restrain him. ‘In heaven’s name, don’t risk your life in such a venture. Why not come into the inn, to avoid arousing any suspicion in the person waiting for you. Remember, a woman’s honour is at stake.’

  ‘You are right,’ said the horseman. ‘Though in this particular case it is not precisely a matter of honour, but of fortune. Castorin, my friend,’ he went on, addressing the servant who had ridden up to him. ‘We shall not go any further for the time being.’

  ‘What!’ Castorin exclaimed, almost as disappointed as his master. ‘What is Monsieur saying exactly?’

  ‘I am saying that Mademoiselle Francinette will be denied the pleasure of seeing you this evening, since we are spending the night at the inn of the Golden Calf. So, go inside, order some supper for me and have a bed made up.’

  Since the horseman must have noticed that Castorin was preparing to reply, he accompanied these last words with a nod that showed he would have no further discussion. So Castorin vanished through the main door, with his tail between his legs, not daring to hazard a single word.

  The traveller briefly looked after Castorin, then with a moment’s reflection, seemed to make up his mind, dismounted and followed his servant through the main gate, throwing him the reins of his horse, and in two bounds he was in the young man’s room. The other, seeing his door suddenly flung open, gave a start of surprise and fear, which the new arrival could not see in the darkness.

  ‘So, now,’ said the traveller, merrily walking over to the young man and heartily shaking a hand that had not been offered to him. ‘It’s a fact: I owe you my life.’

  ‘Monsieur, you are exaggerating the service I have done you,’ said the young man, stepping back.

  ‘No, let’s not be modest: it’s as I said. I know the duke, he’s a savage devil. As for you, you are a model of perspicacity and a phoenix of Christian kindness. But tell me, since you’re such a good fellow and so compassionate, did you oblige us so far as to tell them in the house?’

  ‘What house is that?’

  ‘Why, the one where I was going! The house where I’m expected.’

  ‘No,’ said the young man. ‘I didn’t think of that, I confess, and even if I had, I should not have had the means to do it. I have been here for barely two hours myself, and I don’t know anyone in that house.’

  ‘Damnation!’ said the traveller, with an anxious frown. ‘Poor Nanon! I hope nothing happens to her.’

  ‘Nanon! Nanon de Lartigues!’ the young man cried in astonishment.

  ‘Well, I never! You really are a sorcerer!’ said the traveller. ‘You see men in ambush on the road, and you guess whom they hope to ambush. I tell you a Christian name, and you guess the family name. Explain this to me at once, or I shall denounce you and have you burned at the stake by the parliament of Bordeaux.’22

  ‘Now this time you have to agree,’ the young man said, ‘that it did not take much to find you out. Once you had named the Duke d’Epernon as your rival, it was obvious that, when you mentioned a Nanon, it must be that same Nanon de Lartigues, who, they say, is so beautiful, so rich and so witty that the duke is enchanted by her, and she governs in his stead, with the result that throughout Guyenne she is almost as hated as he is… And you are going to this woman?’ the young man said, reproachfully.

  ‘Yes, I am. I admit it. And since I have named her, I shall not retract. In any case, Nanon is misunderstood and slandered. She is a charming girl, entirely faithful to her word, whenever it pleases her to keep it, and utterly devoted to those she loves, while she loves them. I was to have dined with her this evening, but the duke has knocked over the pot. Should you like it if I were to present you to her tomorrow? After all, heaven knows, the duke must go back to Agen some time or other.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the young man said dryly. ‘I only know Mademoiselle de Lartigues by name and have no wish to know her otherwise.’

  ‘You’re wrong there, I promise you. Nanon is a young woman who is worth knowing in every conceivable way.’

  The young man raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, forgive me,’ said the traveller, in astonishment. ‘I thought that at your age…’

  ‘Of course, my age is one at which people normally accept such a proposal,’ the young man went on, seeing that his sense of propriety had not gone down well. ‘And I should accept it gladly were I not merely passing through here and obliged to continue on my journey tonight.’

  ‘My goodness! At least you won’t leave without letting me know the name of the noble knight who so gallantly saved my life.’

  The young man appeared to hesitate a moment before replying: ‘I am the Viscount de Cambes.’

  ‘Ah, ha!’ the other man said. ‘I’ve heard speak of a charming Viscountess de Cambes who owns a large estate all around Bordeaux and who is a friend of the princess.’23

  ‘She is a relative of mine,’ t
he young man said quickly.

  ‘Well, then, I congratulate you, Viscount, because she is said to be amazing. I hope that if chance should favour me in this respect, you will introduce me to her. I am the Baron de Canolles, captain in Navailles, at present on leave of absence, which the Duke d’Epernon was good enough to grant me on the recommendation of Mademoiselle de Lartigues.’

  ‘Baron de Canolles!’ the viscount exclaimed, looking at the other with all the curiosity aroused by a man whose name was celebrated at the time for his love affairs.

  ‘Do you know me?’ asked Canolles.

  ‘Only by reputation.’

  ‘And ill repute, I have no doubt. Too bad! Everyone follows his own bent, and I like an exciting life.’

  ‘Monsieur, you are perfectly free to live however you wish,’ said the viscount. ‘But would you allow me to make one observation?’

  ‘And what may that be?’

  ‘Only that we have here a woman who is terribly compromised because of you and on whom the duke will take revenge for his disappointment where you are concerned.’

  ‘Damnation! Do you think so?’

  ‘Of course. Even though she is a… loose… woman, Mademoiselle de Lartigues is a woman for all that, and one who has been compromised by you. So it is your duty to ensure her safety.’

  ‘You are quite right, my young Nestor,24 and the delight of your conversation was making me forget my duties as a gentleman. We must have been betrayed, and in all probability the duke knows everything. It is true that had Nanon been warned, she is clever, and I should rely on her to beg the duke’s pardon. Now, then, let’s see: do you know about war, young man?’

  ‘Not yet,’ the viscount replied, smiling. ‘But I think that I shall be learning about it where I am going.’

  ‘Well, here is a first lesson. You know that in wartime, when force is ineffectual, one must use guile. So help me to do so.’

  ‘I ask nothing better. Just tell me how.’

  ‘The inn has two doors.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that.’

  ‘I do: one door leads out to the main road and the other to the fields. I shall go out through the latter, make a half circle and knock at Nanon’s house, which also has a door at the back.’

  ‘Yes, and then let yourself be discovered in her house!’ said the viscount. ‘A fine tactician you are, I must say.’

  ‘Be discovered?’ said Canolles.

  ‘Of course. The duke, when he gets tired of waiting and does not see you come out of here, will go back to the house.’

  ‘Perhaps, but all I shall do is to go in and out.’

  ‘Once you are inside… you won’t come out.’

  ‘Young man,’ said Canolles, ‘you most definitely are a magician.’

  ‘You will be discovered and killed in front of her, that’s all.’

  ‘Pooh!’ said Canolles. ‘There are wardrobes.’

  ‘Oh!’ said the viscount. And this Oh! was said in such a way, in such a meaningful tone of voice, suggesting so many unspoken reproaches, so much outraged modesty and such tactful delicacy, that Canolles stopped short and, despite the darkness, stared hard at the young person in front of him leaning against the window sill.

  The viscount felt the full weight of this stare and carried on in a more bantering tone: ‘Actually, Baron, you are right. Go on, but hide yourself well, so that you are not discovered.’

  ‘No, no, I was wrong, and you are right,’ said Canolles. ‘But how can I let her know?’

  ‘I would have thought that a letter…’

  ‘Who will deliver it?’

  ‘I thought I saw a servant with you. In these circumstances, a lackey only risks a beating, while a gentleman is at risk of his life.’

  ‘Decidedly, I must be out of my mind,’ said Canolles. ‘Castorin will do the job perfectly – and all the more so since I suspect the rascal of having some secret contacts inside the house.’

  ‘So you see, everything can be arranged here,’ said the viscount.

  ‘Yes. Do you have some ink, paper and pens?’

  ‘No,’ said the viscount, ‘but there are some downstairs.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Canolles. ‘I really do not know what is wrong with me this evening, I am saying one stupid thing after another. No matter! Thank you, Viscount, for your good advice which I shall follow immediately.’

  And Canolles, still staring at the young man, whom he had been studying very closely for the last few moments, crossed to the door and went down the staircase, while the viscount, uneasy, almost anxious, was muttering: ‘How he looked at me! Can he have recognized me?’

  Meanwhile, Canolles had reached the ground floor and, after looking with deep distress at the quails, partridge and delicacies that Biscarros was personally loading into the wicker tray on the head of his assistant chef – delicacies that another than himself might perhaps enjoy, even though they were certainly intended for him – Canolles asked for the room that should have been prepared for him by Castorin, had ink, pens and paper brought there to him, and wrote the following letter to Nanon:

  Dear lady,

  If Nature has endowed you with the ability to see in the dark, you will be able to observe the Duke d’Epernon some hundred yards from your door in a clump of bushes, where he is waiting to have me shot and subsequently to compromise you most horribly. However, I have no desire either to lose my life or for you to lose your peace of mind. So stay where you are and in peace. As for me, I am going to make use of the leave of absence that you had me obtain the other day so that I might take advantage of my freedom to come and see you. Where I am going, I know not, or even if I am going somewhere. However that may be, remember your fugitive when the storm is past. They will tell you at the Golden Calf what road I took. I hope that you will appreciate the sacrifice I am making. But your interests are dearer to me than my own pleasure. I say my pleasure, because I should have had some enjoyment in thrashing Monsieur d’Epernon and his henchmen in their disguise. So, dear lady, believe me to be your most devoted and, above all, most faithful servant…

  Canolles signed this letter, bubbling with Gascon bravado, knowing the effect it would have on the Gascon, Nanon. Then, calling his servant, he said: ‘Come here, Castorin, and tell me candidly how things stand between you and Mademoiselle Francinette.’

  ‘But, Monsieur,’ Castorin replied, quite amazed at the question. ‘I don’t know if I should…’

  ‘Calm down, booby, I have no designs on her, and you do not have the honour to be my rival. All that I’m asking is for some simple information.’

  ‘Ah, well, in that case it’s different. Mademoiselle Francinette has been intelligent enough to appreciate my qualities.’

  ‘So you are well in there, are you, you dog? Excellent. Then you can take this letter and go through the meadow.’

  ‘I know the way, Monsieur,’ Castorin said smugly.

  ‘Right. Then go and knock on the back door. You also know the door in question, I suppose?’

  ‘Indeed, I do.’

  ‘Better and better. So go by that way, knock on that door and give this letter to Mademoiselle Francinette.’

  ‘In that case, Monsieur,’ said Castorin, in delight, ‘I can…’

  ‘You can leave at once, you have ten minutes to go there and back. This letter must be given to Mademoiselle Nanon de Lartigues without delay.’

  ‘But, Monsieur,’ said Castorin, sensing some impending disaster, ‘what if they do not open the door to me?’

  ‘You will be an idiot, because you must have some special way of knocking so that a suitor is not left out in the cold. If not, I am a very unfortunate man for having such a good-for-nothing as you in my employ.’

  ‘I do have one, Monsieur,’ said Castorin, with a mighty swagger. ‘First I give two equally spaced knocks, then a third…’

  ‘I’m not asking you to tell me how you knock – it doesn’t matter as long as they open to you. Go on, and if anyone surprises you, ea
t the paper, or else I shall cut off your ears when you get back, unless it has already been done for me.’

  Castorin was off in a flash. But when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and, contrary to every instruction, slipped the letter into the top of his boot; then, going out through the door into the yard and taking a long way round, breaking through the bushes like a fox and leaping the ditches like a greyhound, he reached the door and knocked on it in the way that he had tried to explain to his master, to such effect that it opened at once.

  Ten minutes later, Castorin was back without any mishap and announced to his master that the letter had been placed in the lovely hands of Mademoiselle Nanon.

  Canolles had spent the intervening ten minutes opening his portmanteau, getting out his dressing gown and having his table set up. He listened with visible satisfaction to Castorin’s report and went to look at the kitchen, giving his orders for the night out loud and yawning excessively, like a man who is impatiently waiting until he can go to bed. The aim of this pantomime was, in case the Duke d’Epernon should be having him watched, to let him know that the baron’s intention had always been to go no further than the inn, to which he had come, as a simple and harmless traveller, to seek his supper and a bed for the night. And this plan did indeed have the effect that the baron had intended, because a kind of peasant, who was drinking in a dark corner of the room, called the waiter, paid his bill, got up and left discreetly, while humming a little tune. Canolles followed him to the door and saw him walk towards the clump of trees. Ten minutes later, he heard the sound of several horses riding away: the ambush had been lifted.

  So the baron went back inside, and with his mind at rest where Nanon was concerned, had no thought except to spend the evening in the most entertaining manner possible. For this reason he ordered Castorin to prepare some cards and dice and, once this was done, to go and ask the Viscount de Cambes if he would do him the honour of receiving him.

  Castorin obeyed and, at the entrance to the room, found an elderly groom with grey hair, who was holding the door half open and replied in a very surly manner when he presented his compliments.

  ‘Impossible just now, the viscount is busy.’