The Constable De Bourbon

XIII. THE MOUNTAIN HOSTELRY

Having got clear of the eastle by the stratagem just described, the fugitives, apprehensive of immediate pursuit, dashed down the mountain, and, on reaching the valley, speeded along it as fast as their horses could carry them. Nor did they slacken their pace for more than an hour. They then paused to listen, but hearing nothing behind them, they went on somewhat more leisurely. They were all well mounted, for Lallières had given them the best horses in his stables.

Hitherto no plans had been fixed. Bourbon would fain have persuaded D’Herment and his courageous sister to leave him, but they refused, D’Herment insisting upon acting as the Constable’s guide throughout the night, lest he might miss his way among the mountains, and fall into the hands of his enemies.

After some consideration it was decided that they should proceed to the Chateau de Montbrison, which could be reached by daylight, and where Bourbon might halt, if circumstances permitted, for a brief space, and then continue his course towards the south. With this design, the party journeyed throughout the night, and, after crossing a chain of mountains just as day began to dawn, came in sight of the ancient towers of Montbrison.

Bourbon’s purpose, however, of sheltering himself in the castle, was at once abandoned as he perceived a large troop of armed men, numbering three or four hundred, riding towards Montbrison through the valley. Evidently, the leader of this troop was about to take possession of the fortress, and it was fortunate for the Constable that he was outside its walls.

Under these circumstances, it would have been dangerous for D’Herment and his sister to proceed thither, so the party still kept together, but as their horses were dead beaten, it was absolutely necessary to give the wearied animals rest. The fugitives were therefore compelled to enter a small village among the mountains, where a hostelry promised them all they required.

The little inn was kept by an old couple and their son, Hugues. The latter took charge of the horses, while the old man and his wife attended to their guests, and quickly set before them the best their house afforded. Bourbon, having to support the character of a servant, went with Hugues to the stable, and, on entering it, was glad to perceive several strong horses in the stalls.

“My master wants to reach Vienne without delay, friend,” he said to Hugues, “and I am sure he would be glad to hire horses from you to proceed thither.”

“Your master shall have the horses, sir,” replied Hugues, showing by the profound respect of his manner that he had recognised the person who addressed him. “If you desire it,” he added, significantly, “I will go with you myself to Vienne.”

“I perceive you know me, friend,” rejoined Bourbon, “so I will not attempt further concealment with you. You are aware of the peril in which I am placed?”

“I am aware that ten thousand golden crowns of the sun are offered for your highness’s capture,” replied Hugues; “but were the reward ten times as great, it would not tempt me to betray you. I am sorry to see your highness here. I hoped you were already out of France.”

And he then proceeded to explain to the Constable that the whole country was alarmed by the royal proclamations, and that a large body of men had just passed through the valley from Lyons to take possession of Montbrison.

“I saw them,” replied Bourbon. “But do you think there is danger in proceeding to Vienne? I want to get across the Rhone.”

“I know not how to advise your highness,” said Hugues. “The shortest road out of France is the safest you can pursue. By the time you have breakfasted, the horses shall be ready, and you can then go whithersoever you list.”

Bourbon then returned to the hostel, and, sitting down at a table apart from the others, a modest repast was set before him by the old dame. Impatient to be gone, as soon as he had despatched his breakfast the Constable went forth again, and found that the horses were in readiness. By this time the old host had learned who was his guest, and professed as much devotion for him as his son had done.

“I only wish I could attend your highness in person,” said the old man. “But take my son with you – take my horses – and may Heaven guard you on your way!”

“I shall not forget your zeal, my good friend,” replied Bourbon, much moved; “and I trust I shall one day be able to requite you.”

During breakfast, it had been arranged that the party should now separate. D’Herment and his sister proposed to return to their château, while the Constable and Pom-perant resolved to make the best of their way to Vienne.

Hasty adieux were exchanged at the door of the little hostelry.

“Farewell, prince!” said Marcelline to Bourbon. “May you re-enter France at the head of an army! It will give me new life when I hear you have crossed the frontier.”

“Have no fear for me,” rejoined Bourbon. “Rest assured that I shall baffle my enemies. But I trust you may not suffer for your zeal in my behalf.”

“If the king should imprison me and my brother, your highness must come and deliver us,” she replied.

“That I engage to do,” replied Bourbon.

The parting between Pomperant and Marcelline was brief, but it was evident that the former felt it deeply. The young seigneur had already become passionately enamoured of the fair damsel who had saved his life.

“Farewell, Marcelline,” he said. “We shall meet again.”

“I trust so,” she replied.

Bourbon did not attempt to mount till Pomperant was in the saddle, but as soon as his supposed master had ridden off, he followed with Hugues.

Often and often did Pomperant turn to gaze at Marcelline, till her figure was lost in the distance.

XIV. THE MILL AT SAINT-SIMPHORIEN

Compelled to avoid the public roads, the fugitives, on reaching the valley, traversed an extensive marshy plain, which would have been impassable without a guide, forded the Loire about half a league above Montrond, and after a toilsome journey through a wild and mountainous district, drew near Saint-Simphorien about an hour before midnight. As they could not put up at an auberge, Hugues proposed that they should seek a lodging at a mill which he pointed out on an eminence a short distance from the road.

“I think Maître Benoit, the miller, will take us in,” he said. “He is kind-hearted and hospitable, and his daughter Madelon is the prettiest girl in Saint-Simphorien, and as good as she is pretty.”

“You know her?” said Bourbon.

“I persuade myself I do,” replied Hugues, “I have given my heart to her keeping, and hope one day to make her my wife – that is, if we can obtain Benoit’s consent to the marriage.”

“In that case we will go to the mill,” said Bourbon. “You can answer for the miller’s daughter, if not for the miller and his wife.”

“I can answer for all three,” replied Hugues. “I will stake my life that your highness shall be safe at the mill – provided we can only get in; and what is more, we shall have a good stable for the horses.”

They then rode towards the mill. Close beside it was Benoit’s dwelling – a substantial-looking tenement, which showed he must have thriven in his trade. A little to the rear of the house were a large barn and stable.

As the party approached the miller’s abode, the alarm was given by the barking of a couple of fierce dogs in the stable-yard, and just as Hugues, who had dismounted for the purpose, was about to knock against the door with his whip, a chamber window was opened, and Benoit, thrusting forth his head, which was adorned with a tall bonnet de nuit, called out in a gruff voice:

“Hola! my masters, what do you mean by disturbing honest folk at this time of night? Go about your business.”

“Our business is to procure a lodging beneath your roof, père Benoit,” rejoined Hugues. “Don’t you know me, my good friend?”

“What! is it Hugues?” cried the miller. “What brings you here, boy, and who have you got with you?”

At this juncture, Pomperant thought proper to interpose, declaring he was a captain of the royal guard of archers, on the way to Vienne, to intercept the flight of the Constable de Bourbon.

The explanation did not appear very satisfactory to honest Benoit, for he rejoined in a sullen tone:

“Pardieu! I shan’t disturb myself for you, captain. You must go to the auberge. Good night!”

And he was about to shut the casement, when Hugues called out to him:

“Hold! père Benoit. You are mistaken. We are all friends of the Duke de Bourbon.”

“Since you give me that assurance, Hugues, I am content,” said the miller. “But no enemy of Bourbon shall set foot in my dwelling, if I can prevent it.”

“By Saint Louis! I am glad to hear you say so, good Benoit,” cried the Constable. “Admit us without fear. Bourbon has no better friend than myself.”

“That voice!” exclaimed Benoit. “Oh, if it should turn out to be the Constable in person!”

“You have not made a bad guess, père Benoit,” rejoined Hugues. “Come down as quickly as you can, and, meantime, let me have the key of the stable.”

“Here it is,” replied the miller, throwing him the key from the window. “But wait till Madelon can go with you, for the dogs are loose.”

“Oh, I’ll wait. I don’t want to be torn in pieces,” said Hugues, laughing, as he picked up the key.

Benoit then disappeared, and his voice was subsequently heard from within calling to his wife and daughter to get up immediately. Madelon was already astir, having recognised her lover’s voice, and ere many minutes opened the door, and as she held a light in her hand, it could be seen that Hugues had not overrated her beauty. Nothing daunted by the presence in which he stood, her lover clasped her in his arms, and snatched a few hasty kisses. Disengaging herself as quickly as she could from his embrace, the blushing damsel turned to the others, both of whom had dismounted and fastened their horses to a rail, and begging them to enter, ushered them into a large plainly-furnished but comfortable-looking room. At the same moment, the miller and his wife, each carrying a light, came down an oak staircase which communicated with the rooms above.

Feeling that disguise was unnecessary, and that he could safely trust the worthy miller, Bourbon had re moved his hood, and no sooner did Benoit look upon him than he exclaimed:

“Ay, there stands the Duke de Bourbon. I knew his voice the moment I heard it. Look, wife, ‘tis he! – ‘tis his highness!”

So saying, he threw himself at the Constable’s feet, and his dame followed his example. So demonstrative were they in their devotion, that Bourbon could scarcely persuade them to rise. When they regained their feet, Madelon came forward to pay him like homage.

“No, no, that must not be, my pretty damsel,” said Bourbon, checking her. And he added, with a smile, “Go with Hugues to the stable. He needs your protection from the dogs.”

“Ay, take a lantern and go with him, Madelon,” said her father. “Show him where to find food for the horses.”

As the young couple departed, the miller’s wife, Margot, a comely, middle-aged woman, threw a heap of wood on the hearth, and in a few minutes a blazing fire cast a cheerful glow around. While she was thus employed, an active-looking female servant, about Madelon’s age, and not without some pretension to good looks, tripped down the staircase, and hastened to spread a snow-white cloth upon the table, and make other preparations for supper. Babet, for so she was named, took Bourbon for a serving-man, and would have assigned him a place at the lower end of the table, but her mistress soon set this matter right, and ere long the two fugitives were seated opposite each other, discussing a very substantial repast.

By this time Madelon and Hugues had returned from the stables, and the young man took his seat at a respectful distance from his superiors. Before he had finished his supper, Babet, who had gone up-stairs with her mistress, came down again, and made the satisfactory announcement that chambers were ready for the guests, whereupon Bourbon and Pomperant immediately arose, and prepared to retire, intimating their intention of departing an hour before dawn.

The females having likewise retired, Benoit and Hugues drew near the fire, and fell fast asleep, but they were speedily roused from their slumbers by the fierce barking of the dogs. Both started to their feet in great alarm, as the trampling of horses, mingled with the clank of arms, was heard outside, and left no doubt that a troop of cavalry was at hand.

Without a moment’s delay, Benoit extinguished the lamp which unluckily had been left burning on the table, and rushed up the staircase to warn the fugitives.

In another minute a loud knocking was heard at the door, and an authoritative voice demanded immediate admittance. Hugues, however, made no reply, but reconnoitring the party through the window, perceived that it consisted of some twenty mounted men-at-arms, whose leader was knocking against the door with the handle of his sword.