Bardelys the Magnificent - Rafael Sabatini (affordable ebook reader .txt) 📗
- Author: Rafael Sabatini
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a couple of you.”
I gave orders thereafter for the disposal of my baggage, some of
which my lacqueys brought up to the chamber that the landlord had
in haste made ready for me. In that chamber I sat until very late;
a prey to the utmost misery and despair. My rage being spent, I
might have taken some thought for poor Ganymede and his condition,
but my own affairs crowded over-heavily upon my mind, and sat the
undisputed rulers of my thoughts that night.
At one moment I considered journeying to Lavedan, only to dismiss
the idea the next. What could it avail me now? Would Roxalanne
believe the tale I had to tell? Would she not think, naturally
enough, that I was but making the best of the situation, and that
my avowal of the truth of a story which it was not in my power to
deny was not spontaneous, but forced from me by circumstances? No,
there was nothing more to be done. A score of amours had claimed
my attention in the past and received it; yet there was not one of
those affairs whose miscarriage would have afforded me the slightest
concern or mortification. It seemed like an irony, like a Dies ire,
that it should have been left to this first true passion of my life
to have gone awry.
I slept ill when at last I sought my bed, and through the night I
nursed my bitter grief, huddling to me the corpse of the love she
had borne me as a mother may the corpse of her first-born.
On the morrow I resolved to leave Toulouse - to quit this province
wherein so much had befallen me and repair to Beaugency, there to
grow old in misanthropical seclusion. I had done with Courts, I
had done with love and with women; I had done, it seemed to me, with
life itself. Prodigal had it been in gifts that I had not sought of
it. It had spread my table with the richest offerings, but they had
been little to my palate, and I had nauseated quickly. And now,
when here in this remote corner of France it had shown me the one
prize I coveted, it had been swift to place it beyond my reach,
thereby sowing everlasting discontent and misery in my hitherto
pampered heart.
I saw Castelroux that day, but I said no word to him of my
affliction. He brought me news of Chatellerault. The Count was
lying in a dangerous condition at the Auberge Royale, and might not
be moved. The physician attending him all but despaired of his life.
“He is asking to see you,” said Castelroux.
But I was not minded to respond. For all that he had deeply wronged
me, for all that I despised him very cordially, the sight of him
in his present condition might arouse my pity, and I was in no mood
to waste upon such a one as Chatellerault even on his deathbed - a
quality of which I had so dire a need just then for my own case.
“I will not go,” said I, after deliberation. “Tell him from me that
I forgive him freely if it be that he seeks my forgiveness; tell
him that I bear him no rancour, and - that he had better make his
will, to save me trouble hereafter, if he should chance to die.”
I said this because I had no mind, if he should perish intestate, to
go in quest of his next heirs and advise them that my late Picardy
estates were now their property.
Castelroux sought yet to persuade me to visit the Count, but I held
firmly to my resolve.
“I am leaving Toulouse to-day,” I announced.
“Whither do you go?”
“To hell, or to Beaugency - I scarce know which, nor does it matter.”
He looked at me in surprise, but, being a man of breeding, asked no
questions upon matters that he accounted secret.
“But the King?” he ventured presently.
“His Majesty has already dispensed me from my duties by him.”
Nevertheless, I did not go that day. I maintained the intention
until sunset; then, seeing that it was too late, I postponed my
departure until the morrow. I can assign no reason for my dallying
mood. Perhaps it sprang from the inertness that pervaded me,
perhaps some mysterious hand detained me. Be that as it may, that
I remained another night at the Hotel de l’Epee was one of those
contingencies which, though slight and seemingly inconsequential
in themselves, lead to great issues. Had I departed that day for
Beaugency, it is likely that you had never heard of me - leastways,
not from my own pen - for in what so far I have told you, without
that which is to follow, there is haply little that was worth the
labour of setting down.
In the morning, then, I set out; but having started late, we got
no farther than Grenade, where we lay the night once more at the
Hotel de la Couronne. And so, through having delayed my departure
by a single day, did it come to pass that a message reached me
before it might have been too late.
It was high noon of the morrow. Our horses stood saddled; indeed,
some of my men were already mounted - for I was not minded to
disband them until Beaugency was reached - and my two coaches were
both ready for the journey. The habits of a lifetime are not so
easy to abandon even when Necessity raises her compelling voice.
I was in the act of settling my score with the landlord when of a
sudden there were quick steps in the passage, the clank of a rapier
against the wall, and a voice - the voice of Castelroux - calling
excitedly “Bardelys! Monsieur de Bardelys!”
“What brings you here?” I cried in greeting, as he stepped into
the room.
“Are you still for Beaugency?” he asked sharply, throwing back his
head.
“Why, yes,” I answered, wondering at this excitement.
“Then you have seen nothing of Saint-Eustache and his men?”
“Nothing.”
“Yet they must have passed this way not many hours ago.” Then
tossing his hat on the table and speaking with sudden vehemence:
“If you have any interest in the family of Lavedan, you will return
upon the instant to Toulouse.”
The mention of Lavedan was enough to quicken my pulses. Yet in the
past two days I had mastered resignation, and in doing that we
school ourselves to much restraint. I turned slowly, and surveyed
the little Captain attentively. His black eyes sparkled, and his
moustaches bristled with excitement. Clearly he had news of import.
I turned to the landlord.
“Leave us, Monsieur l’Hote,” said I shortly; and when he had
departed, “What of the Lavedan family, Castelroux?” I inquired as
calmly as I might.
“The Chevalier de Saint-Eustache left Toulouse at six o’clock this
morning for Lavedan.”
Swift the suspicion of his errand broke upon my mind.
“He has betrayed the Vicomte?” I half inquired, half asserted.
Castelroux nodded. “He has obtained a warrant for his apprehension
from the Keeper of the Seals, and is gone to execute it. In the
course of a few days Lavedan will be in danger of being no more
than a name. This Saint-Eustache is driving a brisk trade, by God,
and some fine prizes have already fallen to his lot. But if you
add them all together, they are not likely to yield as much as this
his latest expedition. Unless you intervene, Bardelys, the Vicomte
de Lavedan is doomed and his family houseless.”
“I will intervene,” I cried. “By God, I will! And as for
Saint-Eustache - he was born under a propitious star, indeed, if
he escapes the gallows. He little dreams that I am still to be
reckoned with. There, Castelroux, I will start for Lavedan at once.”
Already I was striding to the door, when the Gascon called me back.
“What good will that do?” he asked. “Were it not better first to
return to Toulouse and obtain a counter-warrant from the King?”
There was wisdom in his words - much wisdom. But my blood was afire,
and I was in too hot a haste to reason.
“Return to Toulouse?” I echoed scornfully. “A waste of time, Captain.
No, I will go straight to Lavedan. I need no counter-warrant. I
know too much of this Chevalier’s affairs, and my very presence should
be enough to stay his hand. He is as foul a traitor as you’ll find in
France; but for the moment God bless him for a very opportune knave.
Gilles!” I called, throwing wide the door. “Gilles!”
“Monseigneur,” he answered, hastening to me.
“Put back the carriages and saddle me a horse,” I commanded. “And
bid your fellows mount at once and await me in the courtyard. We
are not going to Beaugency, Gilles. We ride north - to Lavedan.”
SAINT-EUSTACHE IS OBSTINATE
0n the occasion of my first visit to Lavedan I had disregarded - or,
rather, Fate had contrived that I should disregard - Chatellerault’s
suggestion that I should go with all the panoply of power - with my
followers, my liveries, and my equipages to compose the magnificence
all France had come to associate with my name, and thus dazzle by
my brilliant lustre the lady I was come to win. As you may remember,
I had crept into the chateau like a thief in the night, - wounded,
bedraggled, and of miserable aspect, seeking to provoke compassion
rather than admiration.
Not so now that I made my second visit. I availed myself of all
the splendour to which I owed my title of “Magnificent,” and rode
into the courtyard of the Chateau de Lavedan preceded by twenty
well-mounted knaves wearing the gorgeous Saint-Pol liveries of
scarlet and gold, with the Bardelys escutcheon broidered on the
breasts of their doublets - on a field or a bar azure surcharged by
three lilies of the field. They were armed with swords and
musketoons, and had more the air of a royal bodyguard than of a
company of attendant servants.
Our coming was in a way well timed. I doubt if we could have
stayed the execution of Saint-Eustache’s warrant even had we arrived
earlier. But for effect - to produce a striking coup de theatre -
we could not have come more opportunely.
A coach stood in the quadrangle, at the foot of the chateau steps:
down these the Vicomte was descending, with the Vicomtesse - grim
and blasphemant as ever, on one side, and his daughter, white of
face and with tightly compressed lips, on the other. Between these
two women - his wife and his child - as different in body as they
were different in soul, came Lavedan with a firm step, a good colour,
and a look of well-bred, lofty indifference to his fate.
He disposed himself to enter the carriage which was to bear him to
prison with much the same air he would have assumed had his
destination been a royal levee.
Around the coach were grouped a score of men of Saint-Eustache’s
company - half soldiers, half ploughboys - ill-garbed and
indifferently accoutred in dull breastplates and steel caps, many
of which were rusted. By the carriage door stood the long, lank
figure of the Chevalier himself, dressed with his wonted care, and
perfumed, curled, and beribboned beyond belief. His weak, boyish
face sought by scowls and by the adoption of a grim smile to assume
an air of martial ferocity.
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