CHAPTER III
THE DWARF OF ST. ETIENNE
Along dark stone passages, through many a doorway, and across two orthree rough court-yards, half a dozen soldiers conducted Herrick tohis "guest-room." The woman's pleasantry had caught their fancy, andthey laughed boisterously as they went, hoping, perhaps, to put fearinto the heart of their prisoner.
They halted before a low door, which one man unlocked with a greatkey. The immense thickness of the wall formed a narrow passage, at theend of which some steps descended into a semicircular cell of no greatsize, but of considerable height.
"There's straw for a bed," said the jailer, pointing to a corner,"though how it came here I don't understand, and you've got heaven'slight itself for a candle." And he nodded toward a patch of moonlight."There are honest soldiers who are worse lodged, I warrant."
"It ill becomes a guest to complain of his treatment," Herrickanswered.
"Ay; that idea of a guest-room was smartly thought of," the manreturned, "but maybe you hardly see the full humor of it. This is theSouth Tower, and it's usually the last lodging a man needs this sidethe grave."
"Is that so?" And Herrick's attitude had interest in it, but littlepersonal concern.
"Yes; and it's a short walk from here to the last yard we crossed. Itusually happens there." And the jailer made a suggestive downwardsweep with his arm.
"Axe or sword?" asked Herrick.
"Sword. Unless they decide to make an especial example in your case,then they're likely to hang you over the great gateway."
"Am I sufficiently important for that, think you?"
"I've known a dead sparrow on a string scare away much finer birds,"the jailer answered; "but at any rate you're no white-livered man, andI shouldn't grieve to see you cheat both sword and rope."
"Thanks for your good will," said Herrick. "Who knows, I may live tospeak a comforting word to you. I will be honest with you, I had notappreciated the full extent of the lady's humor."
With something like a salute, deference to the prisoner's courage, thejailer departed, and the key grated harshly in the lock as the boltsshot home.
High up near the roof there was a deep-set window through which themoonlight came. The tower could not be shut in by high walls,therefore, and probably was one of the outer towers of the castle.From that window possibly a prisoner might look into a free world,reach it, perhaps, if age had worn the bars loose in their stonesockets. A moment later Herrick felt certain that only this singlewall held him from freedom, for the music of the carillon burst uponhis ears. His fancy made the moonbeams the path along which the musictravelled. But the window was unattainable. The rounded walls werealmost as smooth as if the surface had been polished, and the cell wasbare of everything but the heap of straw in the comer.
"My first night in Vayenne," he muttered, and some of the bravery withwhich he had addressed the jailer was wanting. The moonlight was uponhis face as he spoke, a serious face just now, although neitherhopelessness nor despair was in it. It could hardly be called ahandsome face, yet it was one to remember. They were good, steadyeyes, and if the nose and mouth were not an artist's ideals of beauty,in the whole face the artist would have found attraction. It wasstrong, forceful, fashioned in an uncommon mould; it was a face apartrather than one of a type, a strong family possession which tostrangers had often marked him for a Herrick.
"My first night in Vayenne," he repeated as he began to pace hisnarrow cell slowly. How long ago it seemed since he had first seen thecity from the brow of the hills. How much had happened in the fewshort hours since then, and yet one incident stood out more clearlythan all the rest, the woman leaning from her horse to look into theface of a spy. Even now her contempt hurt him. It was hateful toappear mean in her eyes. All else that had happened to him seemed oflittle account beside this. The moment his eyes had rested upon herthere had sprung a desire in his soul to serve her. In that service hefelt himself capable of much, yet she despised him. A little touch ofsympathy had shown in her face for a moment when he handed her thewhip, but it had no power to obliterate the contempt. That was hertrue feeling toward him, the other was but the passing pity which awoman may have even for a coward.
The carillon had sounded several times, and the direction of the moonray had changed, leaving the floor of the cell in darkness; but buriedin thought Herrick took no notice of the little rushes of music, norwas he conscious of the deepening gloom around him until a suddenshadow seemed to flit through the chamber, and a new stealthy soundstartled him. Instinctively he drew back to the wall, that whateverenemy might be near should have to face him and not be able to takehim unawares. Once to-night already he had been seized from behind.
Standing on the outside ledge of the window, holding on to the barsand peering into the cell, was a figure that might well startle thebravest. The opening could not be more than four feet in height, yetit was sufficient to allow this figure to stand upright. Head, feet,and hands were at least normal in size, those of a full-grown andpowerful man, the body was that of a child, though its curiouslytwisted form might have abnormal strength in it. His hair was long,and a thick, stubbly beard and whiskers completely surrounded hisface. He was ugly in the extreme, and even Herrick was pleased tothink that solid bars were between them.
For full five minutes the dwarf stood there, uttering no sound, butmoving his head from side to side, trying to pierce the darkness, andonce or twice he leant backward at arm's length to look down on theoutside below him. Then he took hold of one bar with both hands, and,lifting it out of its socket, laid it carefully along thewindow-ledge. From the breast of the loose smock-like garment he worehe took a length of rope, knotted one end round one of the bars, andlet the other end fall into the cell. For a moment he waited andlistened; then, with the agility of a gorilla, he swung himself down,and stood on the floor of the cell, the rope still in his hand, asthough he were prepared to spring upward to safety again at the firstsign of danger.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" said Herrick suddenly.
The dwarf turned quickly toward him.
"Hush! It's only friend Jean."
"I have no such friend."
"You do not know it, but yes, from this moment you have. See here, myknife; watch, I fling it across the floor! Take it, it is for yourprotection--to show my good faith. I have no other weapon. Now, let'scome close and look at each other."
The knife, a formidable blade, came skimming across the stone flags toHerrick's feet. He picked it up, and walked into the centre of thecell to meet his strange visitor.
"You must bend down to let me be sure that you are the man," said thedwarf.
"You have seen me before, then?"
"To-night when she rode across the court-yard to look at you. Ah, yes,you are the man. You were so quiet I thought they had put youelsewhere. Did I frighten you?"
"Well, you startled me, friend Jean."
The dwarf laughed a little, low chuckle, and, silently clapping hishands, stood on one foot and scratched the calf of his leg with theother.
"Ah! So I startled you, friend Spy."
"Stop! Not that word."
"I must needs call you by some name. Give me another."
"Roger Herrick."
"Friend Roger, good. It comes to my tongue easily. Let's sit, and I'lltell you who I am." And doubling his legs under him he sankcross-legged onto the floor.
"I will lean by the wall, Jean, I find it easier," said Herrick.
"Ah, there are compensations, after all, for a man like me. To knowVayenne is to know me; you can't help it. They call me an innocent;you know what that means?"
"Yes."
"But not all it means, I warrant," chuckled the dwarf. "I get pity; Iam not supposed to do things like other men. Who cares where Igo? In the castle, in the church, in a house where there'sfeasting--anywhere--I don't count. Who cares if I listen? It's onlyJean; in at one ear, out at the other. No one looks to me for work,they'd sooner pay me for playing the fool, and I let 'em, I l
et 'em."And somewhere in his strange, loose garments he made the coins jingle."So I go in and out as I will. If I curled up to sleep on the rug atthe Duke's door they'd hardly trouble to disturb me, I count for sucha little. Generally I sleep in the church."
"In the church?"
"Ay; in the porch. They call me the dwarf of St. Etienne. Listen!there's its music." And he remained silent with uplifted finger untilthe ripple of the carillon had died away into the night. "I'm a littlefellow to have so large a church to myself, as I often do at nights;and, friend Roger, I see things in St. Etienne when the moonlightsends faint, colored beams through the painted windows. There arelegends and superstitions about St. Etienne, and people aresuperstitious about me, too. They believe I know things, and so I do,but not of the sort they fancy."
A strange little madman, Herrick thought, yet one with a methodsurely, as the unbarred window showed.
"An innocent, that's what they call me," the dwarf went on, as thoughhe answered his companion's thought, "and though I am no more one thanyou are, it suits my purpose. My wisdom would get any other man intotrouble."
"That loose bar, for instance," said Herrick, pointing to the window.
"Yes; but I never thought of the use I should one day put it to. It iswell to have more than one hole to creep into, and few would expect tofind a man lodging in the South Tower of his own free will."
"I hear it has an evil reputation," said Herrick.
"Ay; the grave's anteroom. So I chose it as a hiding-place. There aretimes when I like to sleep here, to be alone and think of all I hearand see. I was many nights loosening that bar."
"And why have you come to-night--to sleep here?"
"No; to plot with friend Roger," the dwarf answered promptly. "TheDuke died to-night; you know that? Out of his death will come troublefor many--for the woman you saw in the court-yard a little whilesince. Ah! That moves you. She is beautiful, friend Roger."
"Who is she?"
"Mademoiselle Christine de Liancourt, and might be ruler inMontvilliers, but that the law denies it to a woman. There are manywho would overthrow that law if she would let them, but she will makeno sign. The Duke is dead; his son must reign in his stead. This sonis a poor sort of fellow, a lover of books instead of a man ofaffairs."
"The pale scholar of Passey," said Herrick.
"How learnt you that catch phrase?" asked the dwarf sharply.
"I overheard it to-night."
"Yes; they call him that," Jean went on slowly, "and in truth he maymake us a poor Duke, but Mademoiselle de Liancourt thinks otherwise.Count Felix--maybe you overheard him mentioned to-night?"
"I did. He would be Duke, and the old Duke wished it so."
"You have great knowledge for a casual traveller in Vayenne, friendRoger," said the dwarf with some suspicion, "but you shall explain itto me presently. Count Felix would be Duke; more, would wed withChristine de Liancourt, and she loves not either of these ideas.To-night she rides to Passey to carry news of the Duke's death to hisson, and to bring him to Vayenne."
"A strange office for a woman to perform; stranger still that CountFelix should let her go and jeopardize his schemes," Herrick said.
"She has influence with the scholar, who has no desire to be a Duke,that is why she was determined to go. Count Felix thought it wise notto thwart her, since he would stand well in her favor, but he hasarranged that an accident shall prevent the scholar ever reachingVayenne. The escort will be attacked, and it is arranged shall bebeaten, and no effort will suffice to save the life of the scholar. Itis cleverly conceived, eh, friend Roger? A man who can plot soprettily will go far toward success."
"But you could have warned her," Herrick exclaimed. "Why didn't you?"
"I am an innocent. Who would believe me?"
Herrick glanced at the window.
"Of what think you, friend Roger?"
"That Mademoiselle sorely needs a swift messenger to-night."
The dwarf sprang to his feet.
"Truly, by the way one man gets in another may well leave. But stay."And he put his hand on Herrick's arm. "I took you not for a spy when Isaw you in the court-yard to-night, but how came you by your knowledgeof the scholar of Passey?"
"As I dined to-night at the Croix Verte I heard a priest talk of him."
"A narrow, hatchet-faced priest, with never a smile, and eyes thatlook into you without blinking?"
"The same."
"Ah, Father Bertrand has his plot, too. When he talks, friend Roger,remember how easy it is for a man to lie. Come, you shall be the swiftmessenger Mademoiselle needs. That is why I came to-night. See, I havebrought what shall pass you easily through the streets." And heproduced a priest's cassock and cloak with a hood, which he had deftlyfastened round him under the folds of his smock. "I borrowed them fromSt. Etienne." And then, as Herrick arrayed himself in the garments, hesilently clapped his hands. "You are more like a priest than most ofthe real ones I know," he chuckled.
"I do not know how I am to travel to Passey, but, at least, I trustyou, and there's the proof of it," said Herrick, handing the dwarf hisknife.
"A little while ago you didn't know that the bar was loose in thatwindow," said Jean, taking the weapon, "and you didn't know me.To-morrow is as far off as next year for all a man knows of it."
"That's true."
"There are those who would wed to-morrow, yet die to-night," the dwarfwent on. "It's a world of minutes for us all. You come to understandthese things when you roam through St. Etienne at nights. I'll set youon your way to Passey within an hour unless 'twixt now and then timeends for me. If so, you must needs shift for yourself."
He caught hold of the rope as he spoke, and swung himself to thewindow-ledge with the agility of an ape. Impeded by his unaccustomedgarments, Herrick found it a more difficult matter; but he was strongand athletic, and in a few moments was crouching on his knees besidethe dwarf.
The bars were placed midway in the thickness of the wall, so that oneither side there was room for them both.
"We'll shut our door," whispered the dwarf when they had crawledthrough the opening, and he replaced the movable bar and drew up therope. The next instant he had gripped his companion's arm to compelhim to silence and to keep him motionless. Below was the sound of aheavy step, which came to a halt immediately beneath them, and fromwithin the cell came a grating noise. It was the great key beingthrust into the lock.