The stars were yet shining as we skirted
the heights of Charenton, but it was day when we saw
Villaneuve St. Georges on its wooded hill. Here,
where the Yeres wound between banks covered with willows
and poplars, I first drew rein, and taking the King’s
letter from my pocket tore it into a hundred fragments.
Some I let drift down the stream, and the remainder
I scattered to the winds. I may say at once that
this was in accordance with the Queen’s instructions.
The letter was merely intended to enable me to free
the gates, and after that it was to be destroyed.
It had served its purpose, and now went its way.
Needless to add, I had no intention to touch at Fontainebleau
or disturb the petit couvert of the King.
At Melun, therefore, where horse and man were refreshed,
I crossed the bridge, and took the road to Etampes.
Half way, where the little town of Alais lies on the
Essonne, I turned due south, and entered the Orleannois
by Malesherbes.
There was many a league yet between
me and Montluc, and though I had to ride hard I had
yet to husband the horses, lest they should break down,
or in case of emergency.
By avoiding the main roads and large
towns and keeping to by-paths I lessened the chance
of danger as much as possible. At Candes, which
lies at the junction of the Loire and the Vienne, I
heard that the Guidon of Montpensier was hard at hand,
and, knowing well the reputation of this person, I
bade Pierrebon saddle up, and we started without a
meal, though we had ridden far and fast. In a
short time we entered the forest of Fontevrault, and
my spirits rose high at the thought that in a brief
space I would be in Poitiers, where Montluc lay, and
my mission accomplished.
So far so good; but towards midday
I began to feel the need of rest, and splashing across
a ford of the Negron I called a halt on the opposite
bank and looked around me; whilst Pierrebon, who was
a little stiff, jumped from his hackney, and began
to mop his brow and stretch his legs.
We were in the heart of the forest,
and to the north, south, east, and west of us there
was nothing but trees and dense underwood, with here
and there a long, shimmering glade or an open space,
through which a small streamlet hummed, its banks
gay with flowers.
But I confess that at the moment I
had no eyes for the scene for the yellow
mary-buds, the blue of the wild hyacinth, or the white
stars of the wind-flowers; for leaf and shade, and
all the enchantment of the woodland. In brief,
I was famished, and would have given a gold Henri
to have seen a signboard swinging in the air.
And, besides, it was dawning upon me that somehow
we had missed the track.
“Pierrebon,” I said, “do
you know how far it is to Marcay?”
Pierrebon shook his head dolefully,
saying as he did so that he did not even know where
we were.
“Then, my friend, we are lost in Fontevrault
Forest.”
Pierrebon made no answer to this,
but mounted his hackney. And, touching my nag
with the spur, we cantered along a lean glade, trusting
that the track which ran along it would hap to be the
right one. Now and again as we sped onwards
a startled deer would break cover and rush through
brake and bramble, and once an evil-tempered old boar,
feeding under an older oak, glared savagely at us
as we passed, grinding his tusks in senseless rage
till the foam flecked his brindled sides.
We were in the deeps of the forest
now, and, high noon as it was, it was grey as twilight.
Here, as we eased up for a moment, a dog-wolf crossed
our path, and with snarling lip and shining fangs slunk
into the thorn. Oh, for a leash of hounds now!
But on we went, catching a glimpse of a grim head
peering after us through the thorn a head
with blazing, angry eyes, that almost seemed to speak.
It was lucky it was not winter-tide, or that gentleman
there would not be alone, but, with a hundred or so
of his fellows, would have made rare sport with us,
according to his lights.
Still we went on through the endless
woods, which closed in deeper and deeper around us,
until at last the track died utterly away in the tanglewood,
and the horses began to give sign that they were beaten.
I saw that it was necessary to rest
the beasts, and as I came to this conclusion we came
upon a little natural clearing, where, around a clump
of enormous elms, the turf was green as emerald and
spangled with a hundred flowers. Immediately
behind the trees the ground rose, forming a low hill
covered with wild juniper and white thorn, and a little
stream bustled by it, whilst from the leafy shades
above the voices of many birds warbled sweet and low.
There was no need to tighten rein.
The horses seemed to know of their own accord that
they were to stop, and five minutes later they were
cropping the rich forage; whilst I, stretched on the
turf, my back against a tree, was resting with a sense
of repose that would have been delicious except for
the pangs of hunger gnawing at me in a manner that
would take no denial.
“Hein,” I grumbled
to myself, “nothing to eat but grass! If
I were the good King Nebuchadnezzar, now, I might
do very well; but as it is ”
And then I heard a chuckle, and saw Pierrebon fumbling
with the valise. He cast a sly look at me, his
blue eyes twinkling.
“Monsieur is hungry?”
“Famished.”
“And thirsty?”
“Well, I have drank a little” and
I glanced at the streamlet “but a
cup of d’Arbois now, or even some white Rochecorbon,
would be nectar. Confound my stupidity at losing
the way! We should have been at Marcay hours
ago; but what the devil ”
In effect I might well have exclaimed,
for Pierrebon had opened the valise and taken therefrom
a bulging wallet; and as I watched him with astonished
eyes he rapidly unpacked it, pulling forth a cold chicken,
some Mayence ham, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of
wine, which last he put down with a little flourish,
saying as he did so: “’Tis red
Joue, monsieur. Not so good as d’Arbois,
nor so bad as Rochecorbon.”
But I had already attacked the fowl,
and answered, with my mouth full:
“Pierrebon, this is the best
service you have ever rendered. Open the wine,
and sit down and eat. Corbleu! but I will dub
you knight, and you shall bear arms for this a
trussed capon on a field vert.”
And then there was a silence, for,
with the feast before us, time spent in talking was
time wasted. Finally, the capon disappeared,
the last slice of ham was divided with the edge of
my dagger, the last drop drained from the bottle,
and restful and contented we lay back in the shade;
and Pierrebon slept, whilst I slipped into a waking
dream. How long this lasted I know not; but
I came to myself with a start, and looked around me.
The shadow had shifted, leaving Pierrebon
asleep in the sunshine, his red face looking straight
up at the blue sky. The horses too were asleep
in the purple loosestrife, and there was an intense
peace over all things. There as I lay, listening
to the splashing of the water and the song of the
birds, a line of deer came out to drink, and, catching
sight of us, stopped and gazed, until a sudden panic
took a little speckled fawn, and it dashed away madly
through the thicket, followed by its mother and a
cluster of startled doe, the stag going last at a
slow trot.
I rose to my feet and saw how long
the shadows were. In truth, it was time to be
up and moving. So, arousing Pierrebon, we were
soon mounted and jogging through the woods, with our
backs to the west. We made good way now, for
the nags were refreshed; yet we knew not where the
night would bring us, for we were wholly lost.
Farther and farther we rode into the
woods, holding desperately on to a faint track that
wound and twisted through the endless aisles of the
forest. As the hour grew later the sky overhead
changed from blue to crimson and gold, and the sunset,
stabbing through the lace-work of branches overhead,
cast ruddy lights on the trees, deepening the shadows,
and giving a ghostly distance to objects around, so
that we seemed in a fairy realm of enchantment.
As the sunset began to fade, and the
red and gold overhead changed softly to purple and
grey, over which the silver light of the moon would
soon be cast, we decreased our speed, and now, riding
side by side, peered anxiously into the wood for some
sign of a human habitation; but there was none to
be seen.
We rode in silence, for Pierrebon,
to say truth, was uneasy at the uncanny stillness,
and that awe with which Nature in her lonely grandeur
inspires the dullest of mortals had begun to fill us.
And so no word was spoken.
In and out the track wound, until
at last it brought us to the very heart of the forest,
where the shadows lay black and deep. Around
us on every side the huge and aged trees, stretching
in long lines of receding obscurity, stood like a
phantom army of giants guarding some dreadful secret
of the past. Twisted, distorted, and bent, with
hairy, moss-grown trunks from which the decaying bark
peeled like the mouldering cement on some old and
forgotten ruin, the kings of the forest stood silent
and grim, their branches stretched out in grisly menace giant
arms that threatened death to all who approached.
Deeper and yet more deep we rode into
the gloom, though the sunset yet clung in a girdle
of fire round the horizon, casting red blades of light
between the tree trunks; and Pierrebon’s cheek
grew pale, for goblin and gnome and fay lived to him,
and even I, who did not believe, felt if my sword
played freely in my sheath. And then I tried
to sing.
But so dismal were the echoes, so
lowering the aspect of the mighty trees, that seemed,
in the quaking shadows, to be instinct with life and
motion, that “The Three Cavaliers” died
away at the first verse; and then, from the woods
in front of us, rang out a scream for help, so shrill
and sharp in its agony that it froze the blood in our
veins.
“’Tis a spirit!”
gasped Pierrebon, with pale lips, and half pulled his
horse round; but even as he did so the shriek rang
out again a woman’s voice and
high and shrill in its octave of suffering. It
was enough for me, and, sword in hand, I galloped
for the sound.
A few strides of the good beast, a
leap over a fallen tree trunk, and in a wide clearing
I saw before me a deed of shame.
There was a man lying dead on the
ground. There was a white-robed woman, screaming
and struggling as two men tried to force her on to
a horse; whilst another man, mounted on a white horse,
with a white mask on his face, was urging them on
to their work, and a long sword glittered in his hand.
I stayed not for a second, but, galloping
straight on, made so sudden an assault that one of
the knaves was down and twisting on the grass like
a snake with a broken back, and the other had fled
with a howl into the forest almost before my coming
was realised.
But as the horse carried me on I felt
a felon blow graze my cap, and I had but time to half
turn and parry another when I found myself face to
face with the masked man.
Even as the sparks flew from our swords,
and I felt that I had met a master of fence, I knew
it was Simon despite his mask. There lived not
a man like him. Tall and thin, with long, bird-like
limbs and a stooping back, with the features concealed
by the white mask all but the eyes, which glittered
like those of an angry asp, he seemed more spirit
than man; and I felt as if I were crossing blade with
some uncanny phantom of the woods rather than a thing
of flesh and blood, as after a fierce bout we circled
round, watching each other warily.
“So, brother, we meet at last,”
I said. But he made no answer, though his eyes
flashed evilly as he came on again with a swift, lightning
attack that chance alone enabled me to avoid.
And then my life was on my wrist and eye; but I kept
it, and began to slowly force him back.
God forgive me! he was my brother;
but he would have slain me there like a mad dog and
life is dear. He never said a word until he was
being driven back, and then an oath broke from him.
’Tis an ill thing to swear with
a sword in one’s hand. That oath gave
me strength and cooled me to ice.
“Come!” I said, “you
would not slay your heir; or are you going to make
room for me, Simon?” And my sword point ripped
his doublet.
The answer was a thrust that ripped
my coat in turn, and then followed the rasp of our
blades. It was almost dark above us now, but
a lance height from the ground the horizon was still
flaming red. We could barely see each other’s
blades, but guided ourselves by the little circles
of light the sword points made as they flashed hither
and thither, seeking for an opening, to slip forward
like a snake’s tongue.
Twice had I been touched. The
first time it was a parry en prime that saved
me; the second time Simon had hit me on my bridle arm.
It was only a touch; but I felt the warm blood on
my sleeve, and Simon laughed like a devil.
But he mistook his man. Collecting
all my strength I made so furious an attack that I
slowly drove him against the belting of trees, and
then there was a lightning thrust in tierce, a quick
parry, and a return over Simon’s heart, but
the point of my blade glanced from a steel vest he
wore. In glancing, however, it slipped upwards,
and catching the mask almost rent it from my brother’s
face, leaving it half hanging, and almost blinding
him.
In my fury I followed up the thrust
with another, but with the skill that was his alone
he partly parried it, though my blade found his sword
arm, just above the elbow joint; but as Simon’s
now useless hand fell to his side he saw his defeat,
and, with matchless presence of mind, drove his spurs
into his horse, and dashing off at full speed was
lost to view in a moment.
It was useless to follow, though I
rode a few yards after him, and then, restraining
myself, I pulled round and came back. Then I
heard a voice thank me, and Pierrebon appeared at
my horse’s head, as though he had dropped from
the clouds, and as I dismounted he burst forth:
“Now, praise to St. Hugo of Orrain! We
have defeated the bandits.”