John of Strathbourne. A romance of the days of Francis I

Front matter

IMPORTANT NEW WORK ON RUSSIAN LIFE AND POLITICS. IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. By John A. Logan, Jun. Crown 8vo, cloth, bevelled boards, gilt top. With numerous Illustrations. Price ios. 6d. MEN WHO HAVE MADE THE EM- PIRE. By George Griffith. Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt edges. Price 7s. 6d. I Prom William, Duke of Normandy, to Cecil Rhodes, of Rhodesia.) C. ARTHUR PEARSON LIMITED Henrietta Street, W.C. A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF FRANCIS I. IiY R. D. CHETWODE LONDON C. ARTHUR PEARSON LIMITED HENRIETTA STREET W.C. TO JOHN GARRARD I inscribe this story. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. Mere Tapin i II. The Little Lady 9 III. In Strange Company 16 IV. The Thousand Devils 25 V. Put to the Test 33 VI. What the Landslip did for Me ... 43 VII. The Captain's Vengeance Begins ... 51 VIII. The Captain's Vengeance Completed 60 IX.

My Bride 74 X. The Journey— First Stage— The Pine Wood 86 XI. Second Stage — The Shepherd ... 96 XII. Last Stage — The Cavalier 105 XIII. Father Felix 115 XIV. A Tavern Brawl 124 XV. At the Sign of the Dog and Por ridge Pot 138 XVI. My Lord Abbot 148 XVII. The End of Jacques Tapin 156 XVIII. In the Field 167 XIX. The Siege 176 XX. The Spy CONTENTS. VIII CHAP. rAG-E XXI. Ispari 194 XXII I Interfere with my Lord Chamberlain 206 XXI 1 1. A Rebuke and a Reconciliation ... 219 XXIV. Plot and Counterplot 227 XXV. On Guard 236 XXVI. The Assassin of the Tower 245 XXVII. Foul Treason 254 XXVIII. A Midnight Adventure 263 XXIX. The Fight on the Stairs 272 XXX. Lorenzo of Milan 281 XXXI. "My Husband"

Chapter I

MfeRE TAPIN. Mere Tapin turned uneasily upon her bed of leaves, as, with shaking fingers, I tried to wipe the death damps from her brow. My hand shook because I was frightened. I had seen scarce eleven years, and I was alone with the dying woman. Jacques, her husband, had departed in the early morning to fetch the priest ; but as the hours passed on and he did not return, we knew well what had happened. He had halted at the village wine-shop and would remain there until his pockets were empty. Neighbours we had none. Jacques, when sober, was a charcoal burner, and our hut of boughs and clay stood far within one of the vast forests so plentiful in the fair land of France. For time, it was the winter of the year 1520 — the year that saw the two gallant young kings, Harry of England and Francis of France, meet on the plains of Guisnes, on the Field of the Cloth of Gold.

Little recked I then of this. I was a savage ; ignorant, unkempt, untaught ; the rude hut in the B forest had been my home for so many years I knew of no life beyond. And I was not all unhappy. If I had to work hard and fare harder still — my only reward a blow or a curse — at least my task master was sometimes away, and Mere Tapin was always good to me. She was not my mother, that I knew well, neither was Jacques my father. But I was too dull and heavy to be curious ; it never once occurred to me to wonder who I was, or how I came to be with them. Yet could I remember something of horsemen and of waving banners, something even of a tender woman's face bending over me ; but these came only in my dreams — they were visions, not realities. As I watched by Mere Tapin, my once fair skin stained and darkened with toil until I was swarthy almost as she, I knew nothing save that I was losing my only friend.

There had been snow in the morning, and a thin film of ice had formed on every pool ; but with dusk the wind rose and now moaned fitfully through the trees, mingled ever and again with the far-off howling of the wolves. Usually I gave no heed to such sounds, they were part of my life ; but this night I was weak and frightened, and, creeping a little closer to Mere Tapin, caught hold of her hand. Do not imagine, however, that I wished for Jacques ; on the contrary, his absence was a great relief. I had not to slink away or to cower in a corner expecting every moment some cruel blow ; perhaps to be kicked out into the darkness to find MERE TAPIN. 3 shelter where I could. Mere Tapin returned my grasp feebly, and we sat speaking no word until it grew dark without as within. I could no longer see her face ; I could only listen to her troubled breathing.

Presently she roused herself and said in a faint voice, " They will not come to-night. Jacques has gone to the Cadran Bleu. Yet he promised me. May heaven have mercy upon my sinful soul!" She was silent for a space ; then, with more life than I thought within her, she went on : " What I can do I will, it is not too late for that yet. I would have told the good father ; maybe that is why Jacques will not bring him; I will confess all to the boy instead. Throw some wood upon the embers, Jean ; the death-chill is creeping up fast, and I have much to say." We kept always a fire ot wood burning in the centre of the earthen floor, and as I did her bidding, and a bright blaze sprang up, it revealed her livid grey face, and her hollow eyes fixed full upon me. The old woman lifted her hand and pointed tothe farthest corner of the hut.

" Dig yonder, Jean ; dig to your elbow's length, then bring me what you find." I obeyed without a word — I was not given to much speech — and, turning up the earth with a pointed stick, I soon brought to light a small cracked earthen pot, its mouth stopped with a piece of cloth. I took it just as it was to the dying woman and her hands closed around it eagerly. " I always meant you to have this some time, B __ Jean, though the blessed saints only know whether it will bring any good to you. Bend your head close, closer still, and heed well what I have to say, for my words must be few and brief. Jean, you know already you are no son of ours, but there is more than that — you are not of this land at all. You are one of the hated English, and if I guess aright, nobly born." This ought to have startled me, but I was so ignorant I scarcely comprehended what it meant.

" Long ago, when this happened," Mere Tapin went on, speaking with difficulty (it was as much as I could do to hear), " I lived with Jacques in our own dear Picardy amongst our kinsfolk and friends. He was a good husband to me then ; he never drank and he never beat me, until one day came the accursed English and burned our village, and everyone was forced to fly. We took refuge in the woods, and after a time when the savage islanders were gone, Jacques and I ventured back. We wanted to see if they had left aught of our crops, to gather in what we could. There was nothing — nothing but the walls of what had once been our home, and we set to work to repair it. We had slept under a roof again for scarce three nights when, without the slightest warn ing, a party of the English came back. It was too late to fly ; we could only abide their pleasure.

But this time they spoke us fair, gave us money to pay for food, and when they departed they left behind a wounded man who was too much hurt to ride farther. They promised to reward us well if we would take good care of him until they came again. MERE TAPIN. 5 Two archers stayed with him, armed men who watched by turns night and day, and — strange sight at such a time — there was also a young child whom the wounded man never suffered to leave him. One of the archers spoke our tongue, and he told us it was his lord's only son ; the mother was dead, and he went with his father everywhere. That child was yourself, Jean. At first we meant the Englishman no harm, but when Jacques found that his belt was full of gold, he made up his mind to have it. It was but fair pay for what the English had robbed us of.

None of the neighbours had returned — we had no one to help — so I brewed a drink of herbs and mingled it with the archers' wine. They slept sound after that, but to make all sure Jacques stabbed them to the heart and then crept in to their master. We had thought to find him asleep, but the pain of his wound kept him waking, and he fought hard. He was big, and, spite of his hurt, so strong, he got his two hands round Jacques' throat, and would have strangled him. Another minute and it would have been too late, when I caught up the child and held my knife to it. The Englishman uttered a strange cry — sometimes I have heard it in the wood of late — then, loosing his hands, he called out, ' Swear by all you hold most holy to spare the boy and I will let go.' I swore by the bones of St. Genevieve, an oath I have never broken yet, and at once he sank back and only muttered a prayer or two whilst Jacques finished him."

Sluggish and dull though I was, her tale had made some impression upon me at last, and in stinctively I drew away from her. My father had given his life for mine ; that at least I could under stand. " Ah, I knew you would not forgive," she whimpered ; " but remember, Jean, you promised this morning you would not leave me to die alone." " Go on," I returned gruffly, " I am not going to leave you. You know I always keep my word." Clutching my hand, as if to hold me fast, Mere Tapin resumed. " We buried them all in one pit, and, taking their horses, were many leagues away before dawn. We wandered about for months after that, till Jacques had spent all the money — 'twas then he first took to drink — then at last we settled here. No one knew anything about us, and you passed for a child of our own.

Jacques hated you always because you were of the accursed Eng lish ; but I was good to you as he would let me be, lest the spirit of the dead man should come back. When you set your teeth so stubbornly, refusing to cry out let Jacques beat you never so hard, you grew so like the man we had killed I was not able to forget. But I kept this for you without Jacques knowing. 'Tis a ring the Englishman wore on a string round his throat, and a letter he had been writing in the morning. Jacques was to have taken it to Calais the next day for payment of a piece of gold. Look within and see." I pulled the cloth from out the mouth of the pot and found a sheet of paper covered with writing, and a small gold ring with a device of two letters within a heart. Besides the writing, the paper was MERE TAPIN. 7 blotted with dark stains which I knew well to be blood.

The letter had no significance for me — I was ignorant of reading or writing — but the stains of my father's life-blood did not appeal to me in vain, and from that moment I held the relic sacred. " Take care of the paper, Jean," Mere Tapin went on, her words coming slower and slower. " Some day perhaps it may help to show who you are. I have done all I can for you now. Jacques does not know ; mind, do not let him see, — see " And her voice died away and all was still. But she was not dead. I could still hear her heavy breathing, and after a time she sank into a state of stupor which I took for sleep. I kept the fire going, afraid of being left in the dark, and as I watched it I went over again all that the woman had told me. Strange to say, although she acknowledged what an active part she had taken in my father's murder, I felt little or no resentment against her.

My hate was reserved for Jacques. I had abhorred him before, my heart was filled with thoughts of vengeance now ; and taking out my knife, my one possession, I spent some time in softly sharpening it. Jacques was probably too drunk to return home that night ; he would come in the early morning. While he was sleeping off his debauch I would stab him as he meant to stab my father. Remember, I was but a child, and all I knew of right or wrong had been taught me by this same Jacques. Had all fallen out as I expected I certainly think I should have done my best to kill the man ; as it happened, he was reserved for another fate. Whilst thus occupied, I fell asleep, to be wakened by a savage kick which lamed me for a week. Jacques had returned at dawn as I anticipated ; but the sharp morning air had not partially sobered him as usual ; on the contrary, he was in one of his drunken furies.

I knew well what to expect. One glance at the still form on the bed showed I had no protector left, and at once I tried to escape The brute was too quick for me. He caught me by the hair and belaboured me with his cudgel until I could not stand. He desisted at length from sheer weariness ; and bruised, and bleeding, and half-stunned, I tried to crawl out by the door. My retreat was expedited hy another kick, my persecutor crying after me, " Begone, you island brat, you English devil ; never let me set eyes upon you again. Come you within a league of me and I will kill you as I killed the pig your father." Here was confirmation, had I needed any, of Mere Tapin's story. It was the rarest thing in the world for Jacques to talk in his cups, and never before had he whispered a word concerning my father.

It was his wife's death, I suppose, that had brought the past back. Happily I had already hidden my treasures — my sacred letter and the ring — safely amid my rags, else should I never have set eyes upon them again.

Chapter II. The Little Lady

I COULD not crawl far, I was too exhausted from my cruel beating, but I crept to one of my old hiding-places and sank down upon a heap of leaves, too faint and sick even to think. When my faculties slowly came back, I pondered much upon what was to become of me. Of one thing I was quite certain. I would never go back to Jacques Tapin ; better death in the forest with snow for my winding-sheet. If I had been turned out in summer time I should not have cared at all, I could have made shift easily ; to be cast adrift in the forest in December was quite another thing. And I had no friend to whom I could go for help, no kind neighbour who might perchance have taken pity upon me. I had lived so solitary a life, alone in the forest always with Jacques and his wife, that I had become a veritable savage, shunning the face of human kind.

I had no thought of leaving the woods even now, only some dim idea of getting away from Jacques and everyone else, and hiding where none could find me. Towards noon, feeling a little better, I set forth upon my journey, making my way, as I thought farther in towards the heart of the forest. But first I visited the snares I had long ago learned to set, and in one of them I had the good fortune to find a young rabbit. I slung it round my neck, for, although hungry enough, I had no time to light a fire ; besides, it might have brought Jacques down upon me. Then setting my teeth hard, for my foot had swollen and hurt me sorely, I resolved, be the pain what it might, I would not stop to rest until I had gone some leagues on my journey. I know well now that I really travelled scarce any distance at all, but at the time I was quite satisfied, and thought I had done wonders.

I had never been so far before, and when night fell, thinking myself far away, I lit a fire by the aid of flint and steel I always carried about me, and roasted my rabbit in the embers. When I had eaten I felt better, and, muttering a short prayer Mere Tapin had taught me, crossed myself three times to keep off the wolves, and crept beneath aheap of leaves and lay down by the fire to sleep. It was bitterly cold, and had it not been for the pain in my foot I might have slept never to wake again. As it was, I scarce closed my eyes, rising every hour or so to make up the fire and to rub my numbed limbs. I was very glad when morning dawned, though it found me in sad plight. My foot was worse ; it had swollen to a great size and I could hardly put it to the ground ; besides, I was stiff and sore all over from the effects of my beating.

Still, I would not give in. I picked up a stout stick and limped along as best I could THE LITTLE LADY. 11 walking without aim or motive, resolved to go until I dropped. And this was in fact exactly what I did. I was found towards nightfall lying senseless in the road on the outskirts of a small village called Suresne. Instead of plunging into the depths of the forest as I intended, Heaven had directed my way otherwise. Every step took me nearer to the dwellings of men. It was a peasant woman returning from work who stumbled over me, a poor widow who tilled a few fields ; and lifting me on her back, she carried me home. For days I was too ill to move, and that good woman, poor as she was, nursed and tended me as if I had been a child of her own. I was not asked many questions, a homeless, starving child being too common in those days to excite much curiosity.

I told the truth in what I did say : my name was Jean ; I had no one belonging to me ; beyond that I said nothing. This was not from any desire for secrecy, but simply because I was taciturn. I had lived apart from my kind for so long that beyond a mere " ay " and "no " speech was difficult. But for all that I did not forget ; on the con trary, as time went on, I thought of Mere Tapin's story more and more. There was good reason why I should. Whilst I lived with Widow Desfougeres I began to find out slowly what it meant. The widow's children were young ; I was stout and big for my age, and as soon as my strength came back she was glad of my help. I stayed with this good woman for nearly three years, and as I worked in the fields by her side I often saw the young lords and ladies from the Seigneur's chateau.

They would ride by dressed in fine clothes, with long plumes flowing from their caps, and bright jewels flashing and glittering in the sun. On they would come at full speed, giving utterance to joyous cries and mirthful laughter, until it made one's work lighter only to see them. I used to watch them out of sight, to stand stupidly gazing after them even when they were gone, until Widow Desfougeres recalled me sharply. I understood in some dim fashion that such would have been my own life had it not been for Jacques Tapin. Do not imagine I was discontented, I had not sense enough for that ; I was perfectly satisfied with my condition. I was not beaten, I had enough to eat — earth contained no higher felicity. Only once, as far as I can remember, in those dark years did I feel any stirring of ambition, and surely in that was the hand of Fate.

One day when I was working alone in the fields I had the great good fortune to save the Seigneur's only daughter, a dark-eyed girl about a year younger than myself, from a position of some danger. She was riding with her gay companions when her horse took fright, and, after galloping far in advance of her friends, began to rear and plunge on the edge of a steep cliff. Luckily I was weeding near ; I caught the bridle, then helped the fright ened young demoiselle to alight. She had been THE LITTLE LADY. 13 very brave during the time of danger, she had not shrieked or uttered a cry ; but directly all was over she had to hold me with both hands to save her self from falling. It was then, with her soft hands clinging to me, that I first realised my boorishness, realised what a gulf there was between us, whereas if I had my rights I ought to be even as she.

There was no bitterness in the thought, mind, only a sort of dumb wonder ; the bitterness was to come later. Yet was I a great deal more grateful for the demoiselle's gracious thanks than for the money her father presently threw me. After that I watched for the little lady always, and she seldom passed me without a kindly word. Widow Desfougeres was in high spirits when I told her what had happened. " Depend upon it," she said, " my lord will send for you to the chateau, and perhaps give you a place about the stables." My lord did nothing of the kind. The incident did not dwell in his mind as it did in ours ; he soon forgot all about it. Widow Desfougeres had been a servant at the chateau before she was married, and in the winter evenings when we cooked chestnuts amongst the embers she would sometimes tell us of the gay doings there.

Mademoiselle Edmee had a brother a few years younger than herself, and their mother died soon after he was born. " Ah, if it had been the little monsieur you had helped," cried the widow, " my lord would not have forgotten. He is the only son, the apple of his father's eye. The poor mother left him as a dying charge to mademoiselle, and, young as she is, she is devoted to the boy heart and soul. If his little finger does but ache, the nurse was telling me the other day, Mademoiselle Edmee will quit all her friends to sit by his side ; she is a real mother to him, truly." " Yet I have never seen the little monsieur riding," I ventured to interrupt. " Nay, he is a sickly boy, spoilt and self-willed besides. He does not care to ride far, and he will do only as he likes. Though his sister is so good to him, they say he is not kind to her at all ; he cares for nothing but himself.

But then, all the nobles are like that ; Heaven made them so, and one day he will be Marquis of Suresne." I lured the widow on to speak of Mademoiselle Edmee as often as I could, and she would some times tell me tales of how tender-hearted she was towards the poor, how prompt to help them when she had the power. But always would the old servant hark back again to the same tale, how the little lady lived but for her brother. I stayed with the Widow Desfougeres, as I have said, for nearly three years ; then the harvest turned out scanty, her children were older, the poor woman could no longer afford to keep me. The widow wished me much to go to the chateau and ask for employment there, and I have some times wondered what the course of my life mi^ht have been had I followed her advice. But some- THE LITTLE LADY. 15 thing prevented me, something I knew not what, some strange shyness connected with the demoiselle. I liked well enough to watch her from a distance ; to go nearer, to be her servant, no — it would make me feel my insignificance too much.

Chapter III. In Strange Company

After some time, for no one seemed very eager for my services, I found employment at a wayside inn some leagues from Suresne, where they kept horses for the use of travellers. Here, among other things, I learned how to ride, and could soon keep my seat with the best of them. I stayed about a year at this place, leaving it at last rather suddenly. My master was a bad-tempered man, servile and cringing to his customers, but a brute to those in his power. I was the least able of all to hold my own, and he often used me very hardly. I could stand a good deal, for I had served an apprentice ship under Jacques Tapin ; but I was older and bigger now, and one day he went too far. Business was slack. He had been quarrelling all the morn ing, having high words, first with his wife, and then with every man about the place, until he finished up at last by giving me a good thrashing for no misdeed at all.

Master landlord was a stout pursy man, his strength enfeebled by much drinking, and when for once my passive endurance gave way, he had no power of resistance. I turned upon him fiercely, wrested the stick from his hands, and belaboured his fat carcase until he bellowed and shouted for mercy. Not a creature came to his help ; every one pretended not to hear ; they were only too glad at what was happening. This took place just without the courtyard, and it was not until I desisted from sheer want of breath I became aware that a horseman had halted by the roadside and was grimly watching me. He was a big burly man, bronzed almost to blackness by exposure to the elements, with fierce bloodshot eyes, overshadowed by beetling brows. He had two great scars on his face, reaching almost from brow to chin, which, combined with a huge moustache, gave him a savage and sinister appear ance.

A large black riding-cloak enveloped his form closely, but between the folds I caught the glitter of steel, and saw the pistols in his belt. " What ho, tired so soon, boy ? " he called out as I dropped the stick to the ground. " Drub the rogue for another five minutes and I will pay thee a piece of silver. Ay, that will I," as I looked at him in doubt, "and take you into my service after." I picked up the stick, then let it fall again and shook my head. My passion had spent itself, and besides, the coward was now grovelling at my feet. " You will not, eh ? 'Tis a pity, the sight amused me ; you have left off too soon." At the sound of a strange voice help at last arrived ; the stablemen came running out of the yard, women came forth from the inn. " Seize him ! Hold him fast ! " cried my master, c foaming at the mouth as he struggled to his knees.

" He is a cursed rogue, a no-man's brat. I will have the flesh flayed off his bones." I made a bolt and tried to escape, but the master's eye was on them now, and the men were too quick for me. After a very short flight I was captured and dragged back to the inn. The man on horseback took no part in the affair, though he watched it with evident delight, and laughed loudly when he saw my discomfiture. But when all was over, when having ceased to struggle I was led away to be bound, he pushed his horse into the middle of the throng, and, bending down caught me by the collar. " Wilt serve me? " he said in my ear. " I would serve the devil himself to get out of this," I answered sullenly, for I was not much taken with him. I thought, after having offered me money to thrash my master longer, he might have helped me to get away.

" You shall, boy ; you shall. You have hit the mark this time, if never before," and he seemed to shake with silent laughter. " Catch my stirrup and hold fast," and muttering some words to his horse, which seemed a mighty savage beast, the brute began not only to plunge and kick, but made with open mouth at all around him. My captors were compelled to loose me to save themselves, and instantly my strange friend set off at a sharp trot, I running beside him with all the speed I could muster. When we were out of sight of the inn he slackened pace a little, saying : " You can take breath now, boy ; you will not be followed. People are not fond of running after me. " Then looking me up and down as if to take stock of my capabilities, "What didst do at the tavern yonder ? " "Tended the horses and rode post sometimes and helped in the kitchen when house was bus)'."