My Sword's My Fortune Part 23

"I will do my best," said I, flus.h.i.+ng with pleasure at his praise.

"The adventure is dangerous, and it worries me, not for myself but for others. If it succeeds, the Cardinal will be stronger than ever; if it fails----" and he finished with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You may count on me."

"Yes, I am sure of it. Well, this is what we intend to do. At present the Queen has few friends in Paris, but the country will fight for the King. Now, the plan is to smuggle them out of the city, when they will join the Cardinal, and take up arms for the freedom of the throne.

Without Conde, the rest will be able to accomplish nothing."

"A good plan," said I, "and the sooner it is carried out the better."

"If all goes well, to-morrow morning will find us far away from Paris.

Everything is ready, but I cannot trust the Queen's coachman. He is an honest fellow enough, but timid, and likely to lose his head at the first sign of danger. Do you think you can drive the coach safely?"

"Let me choose my horses!"

"You can have the pick of the royal stables. But, mind you, Albert, this is no child's play. If the mob gets wind of the affair there will be a terrible struggle. I shall not think the worse of you if you decide to leave the business alone."

"I will undertake it, old friend, but you must supply me with a coachman's dress."

"That can be obtained easily; there are plenty for sale in the city, and I will send a trusty fellow to buy one which will fit you."

He left the room, hinting it would be better that I should not show myself, and leaving me in a high state of excitement to ponder over the coming venture. It was a risky one, but I was young and hot-headed, and did not fully realise the danger.

The old soldier returned about noon, bringing my fresh clothes with him, and I put them on. Then he browned my face and hands with some colouring matter, and I was transformed into a very fair specimen of a coachman.

"_Parbleu!_" cried he, rubbing his hands, "you will do famously. Now I will take you to the stables; choose your horses; have them ready, and bring them round to Mazarin's private entrance at six o'clock precisely. You have your pistols? Right. I don't know about your sword, but perhaps it will be useful. I will have it placed on the seat of the coach. First of all, though, you must have something to eat, and I will serve you myself; it is doubtful which of the servants can be trusted."

During the meal he repeated his instructions, and it was plain that the terrible responsibility had made him extremely anxious.

"Mind," said he, as we rose at length to leave the room, "from this moment your life is no longer your own. You must sacrifice it, if need be, for the Queen."

"I am willing to do that, monsieur, though I hope there will be no occasion."

Pa.s.sing along the corridor, and descending a flight of steps, we reached a part of the palace which I had not visited before, and were met by M. Corveau, who was really in command of the stables, though most of the fees went to a much more distinguished person.

M. Belloc introduced us to each other, and with a last whispered word of advice returned to his duties. I accompanied my new acquaintance to the stables, and after some delay chose two animals for the work in hand.

"You evidently know something of horseflesh," said Corveau, smiling, "but these are rather difficult to drive; they are too spirited."

"They will make it the more awkward for any one who happens to get in their way."

"True; but are you strong enough in the wrists to hold them?"

"I believe I can manage it."

"Well," he said, "I wish you good luck," but his tone clearly showed that he did not expect it.

However, it was useless being alarmed; so, putting a bold face on the matter, I made friends with the horses, fed and watered them myself, and spent all the afternoon with them. A quarter before six I had them put to, and, mounting the box, drove the carriage--a private one borrowed for the occasion--slowly round to the appointed place. It still wanted a few minutes to six when the bells of the city churches clanged forth in thunderous peals, and, though ignorant of the cause, I felt somewhat alarmed.

"That will be awkward for our plan," I muttered. "There is a tumult of some sort going on, and the streets will be crowded. So much the worse for us."

Five minutes pa.s.sed, but no one had opened the door of the Palace; another five minutes slipped away and the animals were growing restless, when suddenly Belloc himself appeared. One glance at his face was sufficient to tell me that something had gone amiss.

"Get your weapons," he cried, "send the horses back to the stables, and come inside."

As soon as I had joined him, he fastened the door, and led the way upstairs.

"What has happened?" I asked, feeling strangely bewildered.

"Treachery," said he sternly; "we have been betrayed. Orleans has seized the gates, and the streets are filled with a shouting mob.

Change your dress quickly, we shall need every sword."

"But the mob will not dare----"

"_Peste!_ the mob will dare anything! De Retz has called the people to arms, and presently they will attack the Palace. Paris will swim in blood before morning."

"But De Retz will prevent the _canaille_ from going too far."

"Bah! you speak like a boy! Once they are roused, De Retz can no more hold them back than he can fondle a starving tigress without being bitten. Make haste and come to me."

By the time I had cleansed the stain from my hands and face, and resumed my ordinary apparel, every one in the Palace was aware of the terrible danger. Trembling servants went about with white faces; high-born cavaliers lined the corridors leading to the royal apartments; officers silently posted their men; everything was made ready for a fierce struggle.

"No surrender!" was the cry from every fighting man. "Let us die where we stand."

Gradually the noise and tumult outside came nearer; we could hear the tramp of marching feet and the savage shouts of the populace clamouring to see the King. Choosing the post of danger, M. Belloc had stationed himself with a few trusty soldiers near the main entrance, where I joined him. The veteran was fuming with impatience; he only awaited an order from the Palace to sally forth upon the advancing mult.i.tude.

"The King!" roared the excited mob; "where is the King? show us the King!" and our leader glanced at me as if to say, "I told you the plot had been betrayed."

Meanwhile the Queen and her attendants, working hard, had restored the Palace to its usual appearance; Louis was in bed, sleeping soundly, and all traces of the intended flight had been removed.

Presently a note was brought from the Queen to Belloc, who, reading it hastily, told the messenger to inform her Majesty that her commands should be obeyed; then turning to us, he added that no one was to fire a shot until he himself gave the signal.

"Her Majesty," he explained, "hopes no blood will be shed, but that the mob having discovered its mistake will disperse quietly."

"A fig for the mob!" said a grim-looking trooper to a comrade; "let our leader give the word and we will soon clear the courtyard."

"Here comes an officer," said another; "he is wearing the Orleans colours. What does he want?"

"Bah!" cried a third trooper, who spoke with a strange accent, "this isn't the way to quell a riot. My old master lost his head through not knowing how to deal with rebels. The block for the leaders and a whipping for the others would soon teach them their manners."

The words and the accent made me look at the speaker more closely. He was a young fellow with fair hair and blue eyes like D'Arcy, but he was built more stoutly and looked stronger altogether. His name, I learned afterwards, was John Humphreys, and he was the son of an English gentleman who had lost his estates through fighting for his King, Charles I. At the moment, however, I could not think much of this young exile, my attention being engrossed by the Orleanist officer, who rode across the courtyard towards us.

"Raoul!" I exclaimed to myself, and drew back into the shadow, not caring that he should notice me. He did not seem very happy, and approached our leader as if thoroughly ashamed of his errand.

"I am Captain of the Guard to the Duke of Orleans," he explained, "and am desired by the Duke to seek an audience with her Majesty the Queen-Mother."

"Are those your followers?" asked Belloc scornfully, pointing to the howling mob outside.

Raoul returned no answer, but bit his lip deeply, while the other continued, "It is no fault of mine, M. Raoul Beauchamp, that you gain admittance to the Palace. But for the Queen's orders I would gladly send you back to your friends who make war so bravely--on a woman and a boy."