Lord Montagu's Page Part 26

The man readily supplied him, and he professed himself ready to proceed; but the two peasants could not be induced by any means to accompany the rest. One of the blacksmiths, however, produced a lantern and candle from the packs which each carried behind his saddle, and the party set out, not without fresh remonstrances from the boors.

"If they be devils, we do not fear them," replied the stranger, and then added some directions which probably referred to the servant, who had been able to stop his horse in time and remained on the other side of the torrent.

The peasants seemed to treat the stranger with much respect; but even when, by the aid of a flint and steel, the lantern was lighted, it was impossible for Edward to discern more of the other's person than sufficient to satisfy him that he was a man of distinguished appearance, tall and well formed though slight, and clothed as one of the higher cla.s.ses.

The ascent was somewhat laborious but not long, after they had once discovered the right road; and about twenty minutes brought the party to an old bridge and gate under a deep arch. By the faint light of the candle, which was by this time wellnigh burned out, the place looked fully as ruinous and desolate as the peasants had represented it to be.

The rugged outlines of some of the towers showed that much of the masonry had fallen, and the key-stone of the arch and a large ma.s.s of rubbish only left room for the horses to pa.s.s one at a time. Still, however, the light they had seen from below continued to stream from three windows in a great, dark, shapeless ma.s.s of buildings, and the approach of the new-comers did not seem to have been discovered by the persons within, if there were any.

"Stop a moment," said Edward, pausing under the arch. "As we do not know what sort of persons we shall find within, it is well to be prepared. The priming of my pistols may be damp, though the holsters are made as tight as possible." And, standing under the shelter of the walls, he took the weapon from his saddle-bow, threw the powder out of the pans, and primed them anew. He then took the very useful precautions of ascertaining that no water had entered the barrels and that the b.a.l.l.s were still in their places.

"Ay, he has got two lives there," said Pierrot, keeping close to his master; and then, fastening the horses to some chains which hung about the bridge, the whole party advanced toward the building in which the lights were seen. A low and narrow door admitted them to the foot of a small stone staircase, and, lighted by the blinking lantern, they began to ascend. They had hardly gone half-way up--Edward with one pistol in his belt and the other in his hand--when they heard a clear, merry peal of laughter; and, somewhat hurrying his pace, lest the little candle should go out before they reached the object of their search, the young Englishman reached a little ante-room with a door on the opposite side, through the large key-hole of which a ray of light streamed out upon the floor.

The door was thrown open without ceremony; but the scene which the interior of the large hall or chamber presented was what none of the party expected. Seated round a table, on which were the remains of an abundant meal, with plenty of wine, and sundry papers and maps, was a party of gentlemen, richly dressed, with the exception of one who occupied the top of the board and who was habited as an ecclesiastic. A gentleman on the abbe's right hand was in the very act of speaking with some gesticulation when the door was flung open; but he instantly stopped. The party at the door stopped, also, in much surprise, and each group gazed upon the other for a moment in silence.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The hall was lighted by three large sconces hung against that part of the wall nearest to the table; but still the extent of the chamber rendered the light feeble, except immediately under the burners. It cannot be said that the appearance of Edward Langdale and his companions was very prepossessing. Edward himself wore his hat and plume, which had been thrown off before he plunged into the water; but his dress was soiled as well as wet. The stranger whom he had saved was in a still worse plight: his hat, of course, had been lost in his struggle with the torrent, and his forehead and part of his face were covered with dripping locks of long black hair. His sword, which had remained in the sheath, was the only distinguishing mark of a gentleman about him.

Pierrot and Jacques Beaupre looked far more like bravos than the followers of an English gentleman of those days; and the two ill-favored blacksmiths, one armed with a half-extinguished lantern and the other with a sledge-hammer, did not add to the beauty or respectability of the group.

No wonder, then, that several of the gentlemen at the table laid their hands upon their swords; and the one who had been speaking advanced a step or two, exclaiming, in a threatening tone, "What is this? What means this ill-mannered intrusion? Who are you, sirs, and what seek you here?"

"Shelter from the storm, and food, if it can be procured," said Edward: "we know not upon whom----"

But, before he could finish the sentence, the gentleman to whom it was addressed started forward and caught him by the hand, exclaiming, "What!

Ned, my boy! How came you to seek me here?"

"I did not seek you here, my lord," replied Edward, "and, to say truth, if I had known you were here, I should not have come. I was on my way to Aix to join your lordship, according to your commands; but the road is impa.s.sable. Some of us have been half drowned; and, though this is a desolate-looking place, we said, 'Any port in a storm.'"

"But who are these gentlemen with you?" asked Lord Montagu, still speaking in French, but running his eye somewhat doubtfully over the group of five persons who had advanced some way from the door.

"Those two," answered Edward, in the same gay tone, which was generally affected by pages of n.o.ble houses,--"those two are my servants, or rather your lordship's, the renowned and reformed Pierrot la Grange and the facetious Jacques Beaupre. Those two--the one with the lantern and the other with the hammer--are two respectable blacksmiths and horse-doctors, who have joined themselves on to me and mine and did good service in curing one of my horses. They profess to be Savoyards returning to their own country."

"They shall be welcome," said Lord Montagu, smiling,--"most welcome, for I have no less than five good horses sick of some distemper at Chambery.

But who is the other,--that gentleman who seems half drowned?"

"He was half drowned a few minutes ago, my lord," replied the youth, "and so was I; but he will probably tell you more of himself if you will ask him. His horse leaped with him into the river, and it was a hard matter to get him out."

"I hold it but courteous in these bad times," said Lord Montagu, "to follow the old knightly rule and ask no stranger any questions,--before he has cut your throat; and therefore we will invite him to sup, and leave him to explain himself. He seems a gentleman."

"Yes, my lord," was all Edward's reply; but a very peculiar expression crossed his countenance as he uttered those three words, which, had Lord Montagu seen it, might have caused more inquiry. That n.o.bleman, however, had turned to speak for a moment with the gentlemen who had been seated with him; and he then advanced to the stranger, inviting him courteously to be seated and take some refreshment, and expressing sorrow for the accident which had befallen him. He also bade the other four sit down and eat; and, there being no place for so many at the table, filled as it was, most of those who had already supped rose and gathered together at the end of the board, Edward taking his place amongst them without touching any thing.

Lord Montagu introduced him to the rest in kind terms, saying, "My page and young friend, Monsieur Edward Langdale, Monsieur le Prince de ----, Monsieur le Comte de ----, Monsieur l'Abbe Scaglia, the Duke of Savoy's prime minister. We came here on a little party of pleasure, Ned, and sat long over our cups, in truth, hardly hearing that the storm was still going on. Come, my good youth, sit down and eat. You must be well weary of all the adventures which the fair d.u.c.h.ess writes me you have gone through. Eat, boy! eat!"

"Your pardon, my lord," said Edward, gravely: "I will take a cup of wine here standing: that is all. I have much to tell your lordship."

"By-and-by, by-and-by," said Lord Montagu, "we shall have plenty of time and plenty to talk of. Well, drink if you will not eat."

Edward Langdale advanced to the table, filled himself a goblet of wine, and returned with it to Lord Montagu's side. Before he could raise it to his lips, however, the stranger whom he had saved from drowning turned round his head, saying, with a polite smile, "Let me have the pleasure of drinking with you, young gentleman, in memory of the service you rendered me. I do not know your name, though your face is very familiar to me."

A dark cloud gathered upon Edward Langdale's brow, and he answered, not sharply, but with stern, cold bitterness, "I neither eat with you nor drink with you, sir."

The stranger started up with his face all on fire, and exclaimed, with his hand upon the hilt of his sword, "Do you mean to insult me, sir?"

"I mean to tell you, sir," said the youth, boldly, "that I am Edward Langdale,--your father's son; and that you have robbed me of that to which neither he nor you had any right,--my sweet mother's estates."

"Robbed? robbed?" cried Sir Richard Langdale, furiously drawing his sword.

"Ay, robbed,--swindled, if you like it better," said Edward. "Put up your sword, or sheathe it here," he continued, throwing his arms wide open and exposing his chest. "I do not fight with my brother."

The other rushed upon him like a madman.

"What is this? what is this?" cried the Abbe Scaglia, running forward.

"Back, madman!" exclaimed Lord Montagu, seizing Richard Langdale by the collar.

Pierrot la Grange also darted forward and tried to push between. But all were too late. Edward fell to the ground with a heavy fall, and his brother withdrew his sword all dripping with blood.

The burly blacksmith advanced toward him with his hammer raised in the act to strike him on the head, exclaiming, in very good French, "The murdering villain! He has killed the man who saved his life at the risk of his own, not an hour ago!"

But Lord Montagu caught his arm, saying, "Stand back. This must be inquired into by justice. No more slaughter here. Sir, give up your sword! You are a prisoner."

"Aid, all men, to arrest him!" cried the Abbe Scaglia. "I command you in the duke's name!"

Sir Richard Langdale moved not a muscle, but stood gazing at the fallen form of his brother with a face as pale as marble and bloodless lips.

Such sudden changes of feeling will often take place in terrible circ.u.mstances. When the dreadful deed, prompted by the fierce fire of pa.s.sion, is once done, we know all its horrors; but not before. The consummation is like the lightning-flash upon a corpse, showing every ghastly feature more livid and frightful from the remorse-like glare that darts across it. Suddenly he started, raised his hands to his head, tearing his long black hair, and exclaiming, "Curse the lands! Curse the riches!"

"Here!" cried Lord Montagu, "take him away, you two. Guard him safely, but do him no hurt. You stout fellow, aid us to raise this poor lad, and let us see if nothing can be done for him. On my life, I would as soon have lost my brother!"

"Let me tend him, sir," said the blacksmith with the lantern: "I have cured many a horse as bad hurt as he; and a horse and a man are much the same thing."

"Not quite," said Lord Montagu, who even at that moment could not altogether resist the joking spirit of his times and his party. "Heaven!

how he bleeds! Gentlemen, he was the n.o.blest lad--the promptest with hand and head and heart--I ever saw. Poor Edward! can we do nothing for you?"

As he spoke, they raised the youth and laid him on the table, and the blacksmith tore open his vest. The movement seemed to awaken him a little; and, probably with thoughts far distant, he exclaimed, in a faint voice, "No, never! no, not with life!" But the rough hands stayed not their work; and, after gazing for an instant at his wounded side, the man turned to his companion, saying, "Ivan, run down and bring up the pack, quick! We can stop this bleeding. Do you not see? it does not jerk. Then, if none of the vitals be touched----"

"A hundred crowns if you save him till we can get to Aix," said Lord Montagu.

"I think I can save him altogether," said the man. "The thing is, people will not treat man as if he were a beast; and so they kill him. Man and beast are only flesh, and all flesh is gra.s.s."

But it is needless to discuss or to display any further the views and principles of Edward's somewhat rough doctor, or to detail the treatment he underwent. There was the usual amount of bustle and confusion, and the much talking and the recommendation of many remedies which could not be procured and would have done no good if they had been there. Suffice it that the bleeding was soon stayed, and that Edward recovered from the fainting-fit into which the wound, probably penetrating some very sensitive part, had thrown him. The blacksmith by no means wanted mother-wit, and his treatment was probably based upon the sound principle of merely aiding nature. The lad spoke a few words, and they tried to impose silence upon him; but he would not hold his peace till those around a.s.sured him that no one had hurt his brother and that he was safe in another chamber.

All Lord Montagu's anxiety seemed to be to get him to Aix; and he went out himself and sent out more than once to see if the storm was over.

Luckily for Edward, it continued all night and part of the next morning; I say luckily, for the hands in which he was were probably better calculated to bring about his recovery than any which could have been found in a small town in Savoy, as medical science went in those times.

In the mean while, the party a.s.sembled made themselves as comfortable as they could in disagreeable circ.u.mstances of many kinds; and the heavy tread of Sir Richard Langdale was heard through the night beating incessantly the floor of the room above. Toward morning that wearisome footfall ceased, and Lord Montagu, who sat by Edward's side and was still awake, said to himself, "That poor wretch has found sleep at length. Now, which is the happiest?--he, or poor Ned here? I would rather be that boy than the man who has killed his own brother. They say that Edward saved his life, too, not an hour before. Very likely! He is fit for any gallant act. Heaven! what must that man's thoughts be?"