The Path of the King [53]
the Jacobin took it for enthusiasm. He held up his hand in blessing and fluttered back to the archway.
>From inside the courtyard came the sound of something falling, and then a great shout. The mob had jumped to a conclusion. "That is the end of old Toothpick," a voice cried, using the Admiral's nickname There was a wild surge round the horsemen, but the ring held. A body of soldiers poured out of the gate, with blood on their bare swords. Among them was one tall fellow all in armour, with a broken plume on his bonnet. His face was torn and disfigured and he was laughing horribly. The Jacobin rushed to embrace him, and the man dropped on his knees to receive a blessing.
"Behold our hero," the friar cried. "His good blade has rid us of the arch-heretic," and the mob took up the shout.
Gaspard was cool now. His fury had become a cold thing like a glacier.
"I know him!" he whispered to Champernoun. He is the Italian Petrucci. He is our first quarry."
The second will be that damned friar," was the Englishman's answer.
Suddenly the ring of men-at-arms drew inward as a horseman rode out of the gate followed by half a dozen attendants. He was a tall young man, very noble to look upon, with a flushed face like a boy warm from the game of paume. His long satin coat was richly embroidered, and round his neck hung the thick gold collar of some Order. He was wiping a stain from his sleeve with a fine lawn handkerchief.
What is that thing gilt like a chalice?" whispered Champernoun.
"Henry of Guise," said Gaspard.
The Duke caught sight of the two men in the centre of the ring. The lanterns made the whole place bright and he could see every detail of their dress and bearing. He saluted them courteously.
"We make your Grace our compliments," said Gaspard. "We are of the household of the Ambassador of Spain, and could not rest indoors when great deeds were being done in the city."
The young man smiled pleasantly. There was a boyish grace in his gesture.
"You are welcome, gentlemen. I would have every good Catholic in Europe see with his own eyes the good work of this Bartholomew's day. I would ask you to ride with me, but I leave the city in pursuit of the Count of Montgomery, who is rumoured to have escaped. There will be much for you to see on this happy Sunday. But stay! You are not attended, and our streets are none too safe for strangers. Presently the Huguenots will counterfeit our white cross, and blunders may be made by the overzealous."
He unclasped the jewel which hung at the end of his chain. It was a little Agnus of gold and enamel, surmounting a lozenge-shaped shield charged with an eagle.
"Take this," he said, "and return it to me when the work is over. Show it if any man dares to question you. It is a passport from Henry of Guise.... And now forward," he cried to his followers. "Forward for Montgomery and the Vidame."
The two looked after the splendid figure. "That bird is in fine feather," said Champernoun.
Gaspard's jaw was very grim. "Some day he will lie huddled under the assassin's knife. He will die as he has made my chief die, and his body will be cast to the dog's....
But he has given me a plan," and he spoke in his companion's ear.
The Englishman laughed. His stolidity had been slow to quicken, but his eyes were now hot and he had altogether ceased to swear.
"First let me get back to Walsingham's lodging. I have a young kinsman there, they call him Walter Raleigh, who would dearly love this venture."
"Tut, man, be serious. We play a desperate game, and there is no place for boys in it. We have Guise's jewel, and by the living God we will use it. My mark is Petrucci."
"And the priest," said Champernoun.
The crowd in the Rue de Bethisy was thinning, as bands of soldiers, each with its tail of rabble, moved off to draw other coverts. There was fighting still in many houses, and on the roof-tops as the pale dawn spread could be seen the hunt for fugitives. Torches and lanterns still flickered obscenely, and the blood in the gutters shone sometimes golden
>From inside the courtyard came the sound of something falling, and then a great shout. The mob had jumped to a conclusion. "That is the end of old Toothpick," a voice cried, using the Admiral's nickname There was a wild surge round the horsemen, but the ring held. A body of soldiers poured out of the gate, with blood on their bare swords. Among them was one tall fellow all in armour, with a broken plume on his bonnet. His face was torn and disfigured and he was laughing horribly. The Jacobin rushed to embrace him, and the man dropped on his knees to receive a blessing.
"Behold our hero," the friar cried. "His good blade has rid us of the arch-heretic," and the mob took up the shout.
Gaspard was cool now. His fury had become a cold thing like a glacier.
"I know him!" he whispered to Champernoun. He is the Italian Petrucci. He is our first quarry."
The second will be that damned friar," was the Englishman's answer.
Suddenly the ring of men-at-arms drew inward as a horseman rode out of the gate followed by half a dozen attendants. He was a tall young man, very noble to look upon, with a flushed face like a boy warm from the game of paume. His long satin coat was richly embroidered, and round his neck hung the thick gold collar of some Order. He was wiping a stain from his sleeve with a fine lawn handkerchief.
What is that thing gilt like a chalice?" whispered Champernoun.
"Henry of Guise," said Gaspard.
The Duke caught sight of the two men in the centre of the ring. The lanterns made the whole place bright and he could see every detail of their dress and bearing. He saluted them courteously.
"We make your Grace our compliments," said Gaspard. "We are of the household of the Ambassador of Spain, and could not rest indoors when great deeds were being done in the city."
The young man smiled pleasantly. There was a boyish grace in his gesture.
"You are welcome, gentlemen. I would have every good Catholic in Europe see with his own eyes the good work of this Bartholomew's day. I would ask you to ride with me, but I leave the city in pursuit of the Count of Montgomery, who is rumoured to have escaped. There will be much for you to see on this happy Sunday. But stay! You are not attended, and our streets are none too safe for strangers. Presently the Huguenots will counterfeit our white cross, and blunders may be made by the overzealous."
He unclasped the jewel which hung at the end of his chain. It was a little Agnus of gold and enamel, surmounting a lozenge-shaped shield charged with an eagle.
"Take this," he said, "and return it to me when the work is over. Show it if any man dares to question you. It is a passport from Henry of Guise.... And now forward," he cried to his followers. "Forward for Montgomery and the Vidame."
The two looked after the splendid figure. "That bird is in fine feather," said Champernoun.
Gaspard's jaw was very grim. "Some day he will lie huddled under the assassin's knife. He will die as he has made my chief die, and his body will be cast to the dog's....
But he has given me a plan," and he spoke in his companion's ear.
The Englishman laughed. His stolidity had been slow to quicken, but his eyes were now hot and he had altogether ceased to swear.
"First let me get back to Walsingham's lodging. I have a young kinsman there, they call him Walter Raleigh, who would dearly love this venture."
"Tut, man, be serious. We play a desperate game, and there is no place for boys in it. We have Guise's jewel, and by the living God we will use it. My mark is Petrucci."
"And the priest," said Champernoun.
The crowd in the Rue de Bethisy was thinning, as bands of soldiers, each with its tail of rabble, moved off to draw other coverts. There was fighting still in many houses, and on the roof-tops as the pale dawn spread could be seen the hunt for fugitives. Torches and lanterns still flickered obscenely, and the blood in the gutters shone sometimes golden