Won By the Sword : a tale of the Thirty Years' War by G. A. Henty (summer beach reads .txt) 📗

openly on good terms with the court. They were secretly, however, intriguing with the parliament of Paris, which was now bitterly opposed to Mazarin, had refused to register some of his decrees, and had even forced him to dismiss his superintendent of finance, an Italian named Emeri. The latter had imposed taxes at his will to satisfy his extravagance and avarice, had raised the octroi duty, made the sale of firewood a monopoly, and in various ways had incurred the indignation and hatred of the Parisians.

Mazarin's own greed had been in no slight degree the cause of his unpopularity; he who had come to France a penniless priest was now the owner of great estates. It was even said that much of the money that should have been devoted to the needs of the army had been privately sent into Italy by him, and throughout the country it was felt to be scandalous that while the deepest distress was universal on account of the weight of taxation, these two Italians should be piling up wealth for themselves. But, avaricious as he was, the cardinal was lavish in his expenditure among his friends and adherents; honours, titles, dignities, and estates were freely bestowed upon them, and he did not hesitate to pay any sum that would gain him the support of those whose aid he deemed to be essential. Madame de Chevreuse was again at court, and was, as she had always been, the centre of the intrigues that were going on. One evening she made a sign for Hector to take a place by her side. She had taken a fancy to the young Scottish colonel on the evening when he had been first introduced to her, and was always gracious to him now.

“Monsieur le baron,” she said in a low tone, “do you think that the air of Paris agrees with you as well as that of the army?”

He felt from the manner in which she spoke, that she meant more than she said.

“So far, madam, it has not disagreed with me,” he said; “and even did it do so I should not be able to leave it, as I have orders to remain here.”

“By the way, monsieur,” she said, changing the subject of conversation, “it is whispered that that party of pleasure to which you took the officers of your regiment at St. Germain did not come off, at least none of the landlords of the hotels there can recall any such gathering, and it is even said that your falling in with the carriage of the Duke of Orleans was not altogether an accident. I only mention the reports; of course, it was a matter of no moment whether your party dined at St. Germain or at Sevres. But sometimes misapprehensions of this kind lead to trouble, especially when they happen a few days before serious events. I like you, Colonel Campbell, and that is why I have mentioned this; you understand me, I have no doubt;” and, turning to a gentleman who had at that moment approached her, she entered into a lively conversation with him, and Hector rose, and with the words, “Thank you, madam,” bowed, and moved away.

It was easy to understand her meaning. Beaufort and the conspirators whose plan he had thwarted, and who had suffered imprisonment and exile thereby, had in some way discovered that it was to him that they owed their failure and disgrace. At the moment his explanation and that of his officers had deceived them, but doubtless someone whose connection with the plot was unsuspected had instituted inquiries, found that the party he had spoken of had not taken place, and had at once come to the conclusion that he had in some way discovered their intentions, had really ridden out with his officers to furnish a guard to Mazarin, and had afterwards acquainted him with what he had discovered. Doubtless, as Madame de Chevreuse had warned him, the air of Paris was at present dangerously unwholesome for him. He had been the means of bringing disgrace and punishment upon the Duc de Vendome and the Duke of Beaufort, two of the most powerful nobles in France, and a host of their friends.

It was probable that they only recently assured themselves that it was he who had thwarted their plans; had it been otherwise he would scarcely have escaped their vengeance the last time that he was in Paris. Now, from what Madame de Chevreuse had said, he had no doubt whatever that some plot would be made against his life. He might thwart one such attempt, but others would follow. He resolved to lay the matter before the cardinal and take his advice. Accordingly he waited until he was leaving; several gentlemen of his suite accompanied him, and at the entrance to the Louvre the men of the cardinal's guard fell in on either side. When they reached Mazarin's hotel Hector moved up to him.

“Can I have a few words with you, your eminence?”

“Certainly, Colonel Campbell; I never retire to bed till long past midnight. It is something serious, I see,” he said quickly as they entered his apartment, where a number of candles were burning, and he obtained a full view of Hector's face. “Another plot?”

“Not against your eminence; it is a matter which concerns myself only. I have been warned tonight that my share in the last affair has been discovered, that inquiries have been made at St. Germain, and that the various innkeepers have declared that no party of officers dined there that morning, and that it was therefore concluded that our presence behind your carriage was not accidental. They no doubt guessed that it was I who discovered the plot, in consequence of which so many were arrested and exiled. I have been distinctly warned that the air of Paris is unwholesome for me.”

“Who warned you?” the cardinal said abruptly.

“It would not be fair of me to mention the name, but it is at any rate one who is of Beaufort's party.”

“Ah!” the cardinal said sharply, “I noticed you sitting for a few minutes by Madame de Chevreuse. Never mind, I will respect your confidence. I can well understand, after what you have said, that there is great danger here, and it is a danger from which it is well nigh impossible to protect you, unless you take up your residence here and never stir abroad. Nor do I know that you would be safer with the army; an assassin's knife can reach a man as easily in a camp as in a city, and with perhaps less risk of detection. Neither Beaufort nor Vendome are men to forget or forgive an injury, and they have scores of fellows who would for a few crowns murder anyone they indicated, and of gentlemen of higher rank who, although not assassins, would willingly engage you in a duel, especially those who suffered in the plot that you discovered. Frankly, what do you think yourself?”

“I might retire to la Villar, cardinal. I should be safe there in my own castle.”

“So long as you did not leave it; but a man with a musket in ambush behind a hedge might cut your career short. It is probable enough that you are watched, and in that case I should doubt whether you would ever get to la Villar, nor do I think that if you left for the Rhine you would get halfway. Now you see, Monsieur Campbell, that your cause is mine, and that your safety touches me as if it were my own, for it was in my service that you incurred the danger. I must think the matter over. In the meantime I beg of you to sleep here tonight. I will send word to your servant that you will not return. I could of course send a guard with you to