Lord Montagu's Page Part 3

"Where?" demanded the lad, sternly.

"Why, to Mauze, to-be-sure," replied Pierrot.

"What a pity he gave himself such unnecessary trouble!" answered the lad, in a quiet tone: "neither you nor I go to Mauze to-night, Pierrot."

"Then where, in Satan's name, are you going?" demanded his companion, checking his horse.

"To Roch.e.l.le," replied Master Ned. "Jog on, Maitre Pierrot. It is the next turn on the right we take, I think. Jog on, I say. Why do you stop?"

"Because I ought to go back and tell Jargeau, and ask him what I am to do," answered the other, half bewildered with drink and astonishment.

"You are to do what I tell you, and to do it at once," replied the lad; "and, if you do not, I have got a persuader here which will convince you sooner than any other argument I can use." And as he spoke he drew one of the large horse-pistols of that day from beneath his cloak and pointed it straight at Pierrot's head. "It is the same argument that stopped your running away and leaving us in the enemy's teeth at St.

Martin's-in-Rhe," he said.

"You young devil, the ball is in my leg still," answered Pierrot. "But this is not fair, Master Ned. You might be right enough then, for you thought I was going to betray you; though, on my life and soul, I was only afraid. Now you want me to disobey those I am bound to serve, and do not even give me a reason."

"I will give you a reason, though I have not much time, for fear the powder in the pan should get damp," replied the boy; "but my reason is that I was told to go to Roch.e.l.le and see Maitre Clement Tournon; and therefore I am going. Now, in the Isle de Rhe I did not think you were going to betray us, and knew quite well it was mere fear; but at present I do think Jargeau is seeking to betray me,--or mislead me, which is as bad. At all events, you have got to go with me to Roch.e.l.le, or have the lead in your head, Pierrot: so choose quickly, because you know I do not wait long for any one."

"Well, I vow you are too hard upon me, Master Ned," said Pierrot, in a whimpering tone. "You take the very bread out of my mouth and give me over to the vengeance of that cold-blooded devil Jargeau."

"You will find me a worse devil still," replied Master Ned, coldly; but even as he spoke he fell into a fit of thought, and then added, "Listen to me, Pierrot, if the brandy has left you any brains, or ears either. I want a man like you to go with me a long way, perhaps. It will not be I who pay you, for I have got little enough, as you know; but I will be your surety that you shall be well paid as long as you serve well. I know you to the bottom. You are honest at heart, whether you are drunk or sober; though liquor has not the same effect upon you as upon most men. You are brave enough when you are sober, but a terrible coward when you are drunk. Now, if you like to go with me, you shall have enough to live on, and to get drunk on, when I choose to let you get drunk."

"How often will that be?" asked Pierrot, interrupting him.

"I will make no bargain," answered the lad; "but this much I will say: you may drink whenever I do not tell you I have important business on hand. When I do tell you that, you shall taste nothing stronger than water."

"Good! good!" said Pierrot: "strong water you mean, of course."

"Well-water," said the lad, sharply. "But, remember, I am not to be trifled with. As to Jargeau, I will take care he does nothing to injure you. If it be as I think, I have got his head under my belt, and he will soon know that it is so. Now choose quickly, for we have stood here too long."

"Well, I'll go," said Pierrot; "but I am terribly afraid of that Jargeau. However, your pistol is nearest; and so I'll go. I know you are not to be trifled with, well enough; but I must find some way of letting Jargeau know I have left him. It would be a shame to go without telling him, you know, Master Ned."

"We shall find means enough in Roch.e.l.le of sending him word," answered the lad, putting up his pistol and resuming his journey.

Pierrot followed with sundry half-articulate grunts; but he appeared soon to recover both good humor and spirits, for ere they had gone half a mile he burst forth into song, broken and irregular indeed, now a sc.r.a.p from one lay, now from another; but, at all events, the music seemed to show that no very heavy thing was resting on his mind. His rambling sc.r.a.ps of old ditties ran somewhat as follows:--

"Whither go you on this dark, dark night, Wayfaring cavalier?

Go you to love, or go you to fight?

Either is better by clear moonlight, Venturous cavalier.

"By my life, the moon is beginning to break through,--though how she will manage it I don't know; for there is mud enough in yonder sky to swallow up the tallest horse I ever rode.

"Oh, tell-tale moon, You are up too soon For the long train of kisses yet on the way.

Your eyes so bright Make all the world light: We might just as well kiss in the full of the day.

"She has got behind the cloud again. Moons and maidens don't know their own minds.

"Katy went to the cupboard-door, Ah, Katy, Katy!

What want you in your grandam's store?

Cunning little Katy.

"She went quietly over the floor: Fie, Katy, Katy!

No use of the lock, no use of the door, Against that little Katy.

"She's put away her own little snood: Fie, little Katy!

She has got on her grandmother's hood: Can that be pretty Katy?

"She has opened the back door into the wood: Beware! Katy, Katy; Such sly marches never bode good To any little Katy.

"But there's a priest with the yeoman tall: Is that it, little Katy?

And now she is wedded and bedded and all, And no more little Katy."

The concluding stanzas, if they were neither very excellent nor very tender, were at least an indication that his mind was settling down into a calmer state than when he began. They were connected, at all events; and continuity of thought is a great approach to reason, which dwelleth not in the brains of any man together with much brandy. The finer spirit was, therefore, apparently getting the better of the coa.r.s.er; and Master Ned thought the time was come for him to take advantage of the change of dynasty and see whether he could not obtain some advantage from the new ruler.

"Well, Pierrot," he said, "this is a very pretty business you have been engaged in. After having had the honor of serving the King of England and fighting for the liberty of the Protestants of France, you have been persuaded to aid in trying to betray me into the hands of the enemy, though you did not know that I might not be the bearer of important messages to your own people."

"Whew!" cried Pierrot, with a long whistle. Now, whistles mean all kinds of things, from the ostracism of a play-house gallery to the signal of love or housebreaking; but the whistle of good Pierrot was decidedly a whistle of astonishment, and so Master Ned interpreted it.

"Do not affect ignorance or surprise, Pierrot," he said: "that will not do with me. Jargeau is a traitor: that is clear."

"Well, well, Master Ned," interposed his companion, "you are a mighty sharp lad, beyond question; but sometimes you ride your horse too fast, notwithstanding. Just stop a bit till my head gets a little--a very little bit--clearer, and I'll set you right. As you think the matter worse than it is, I may as well show you it is better. I don't mean to say they did not want to trick you; but not the way you fancy."

"Why, are not all the towns round in the hands of the Papists?" asked the lad. "We have had that news in England for the last four months."

"No, no, no," answered Pierrot: "the Papists may have the upper hand in most of them, it is true; but stop a bit, and I'll tell you all clearly.

Your long pistol half sobered me; and when I can get to a spring and put my head in, that will wash out the rest of the brandy. It is of no use giving you a muddled tale."

"Take care you do not make one up," answered Master Ned. "I shall find you out in five minutes."

Pierrot laughed. "I'd as soon try to cheat the devil," he said. "But let us ride on. There is a well just where the roads cross, and it will serve my turn. Brandy is a fine thing, but a mighty poor counsellor."

The lad followed the suggestion, for he did not wish to give his companion too much time to think, and, urging their horses on, in about five minutes they reached the spot where two highways crossed, and where a large stone trough received the waters of a beautiful and plentiful spring, affording solace to many a weary and thirsty horse in those days of saddle-travelling. There Pierrot dismounted, slowly and deliberately, for he could not precisely ascertain to what extent he retained a balancing power till his feet touched the ground. With more directness of purpose, however, than could have been expected, he made his way to the trough, and, kneeling down, plunged his head once or twice into the cool water. He then rose, with his long rugged black hair still streaming; and, after the horses had been suffered to drink, the two travellers resumed their way. The moon by this time had completely scattered the clouds; glimpses of dark-blue sky appeared between the broken ma.s.ses, and the keen eye of the young lad could mark every change in the expression of Pierrot's face as he went on.

"Now, Master Ned," he said, "I think my noddle has got clear enough of the fumes to let you know something of what people have been about here, which you do not know rightly, I can see. Roch.e.l.le is going to be taken by the Catholics: that's clear to me."

"Unless the great Duke of Buckingham drive the Catholics beyond the Loire, it must be taken," answered the lad. "You can never stand against all France. But what makes you give up hope, Pierrot?"

"First, the King of France, and his devil of a Cardinal, are drawing together a great army all around us," answered Pierrot,--"a greater army than ever approached Roch.e.l.le before. That we could manage to resist, perhaps. But then they are going very coolly to work fortifying every town and well-pitched village of the Papists within fifty miles of the city, and filling them with soldiers, so that every egg that comes to market will have to be fought for. Well, that we could perhaps manage too, for we could get supplies from England. But look here, Master Ned: there are two parties in Roch.e.l.le. Our best lords and wisest citizens, our chief generals and captains, know well that our only hope is in the support of England; but there is a more numerous, if not a stronger, party, who do not like your great duke, would have nothing to do with your good country, and would have us stand alone and fight it out by ourselves. One of their chief men is Jargeau."

"I see," said the lad. "But what did he seek by trying to entrap me to go to Mauze?"

"First, your letters were likely either to fall into the hands of the Catholics, and, by showing how firmly Roch.e.l.le could count upon English help, frighten them and make them reasonable," answered Pierrot, "or, secondly, they might fall into the hands of Miguet and his other friends, who would take care they should never reach their destination.

That was the plan, Master Ned."

"And not a bad plan, either," answered the other, thoughtfully, "supposing I had any letters. But, as you say, Roch.e.l.le is in a bad way; for, if her leaders are afraid to let each other know their exact position and what they may count upon, she is a house divided against herself, and cannot stand. But what made Jargeau think I had letters?

n.o.body told him so, I think."

"No; but they told him you would have messages for our princ.i.p.al people," answered Pierrot,--adding, not unwilling, perhaps, to show a little scorn for one whose strong will had exercised what may be called an unnatural ascendency over him more than once, "and Jargeau never believed that they would trust messages to such a young boy as you."