Michel and Angele [A Ladder of Swords], Complete - Gilbert Parker
They cleared Cape Carteret with a fair wind from the north-east, which
should carry them safely as the bird flies to the haven of Rozel. The
high, pinkish sands of Hatainville were behind them; the treacherous
Taillepied Rocks lay to the north, and a sweet sea before. Nothing could
have seemed fairer and more hopeful. But a few old fishermen on shore at
Carteret shook their heads dubiously, and at Port Bail, some miles below,
a disabled naval officer, watching through a glass, rasped out,
"Criminals or fools!" But he shrugged his shoulders, for if they were
criminals he was sure they would expiate their crimes this night, and if
they were fools--he had no pity for fools.
But Buonespoir knew his danger. Truth is, he had chosen this night
because they would be safest from pursuit, because no sensible seafaring
man, were he King's officer or another, would venture forth upon the
impish Channel, save to court disaster. Pirate, and soldier in priest's
garb, had frankly taken the chances.
With a fair wind they might, with all canvas set--mainsail, foresail,
jib, and fore-topsail--make Rozel Bay within two hours and a quarter. All
seemed well for a brief half-hour. Then, even as the passage between the
Marmotier and the Ecrehos opened out, the wind suddenly shifted from the
north-east to the southwest and a squall came hurrying on them--a few
moments too soon; for, had they been clear of the Ecrehos, clear of the
Taillepieds, Felee Bank, and the Ecriviere, they could have stood out
towards the north in a more open sea.
Yet there was one thing in their favour: the tide was now running hard
from the north-west, so fighting for them while the wind was against
them. Their only safety lay in getting beyond the Ecrehos. If they
attempted to run in to the Marmotier for safety, they would presently be
at the mercy of the French. To trust their doubtful fortunes and bear on
was the only way. The tide was running fast. They gave the mainsail to
the wind still more, and bore on towards the passage. At last, as they
were opening on it, the wind suddenly veered full north-east. The sails
flapped, the boat seemed to hover for a moment, and then a wave swept her
towards the rocks. Buonespoir put the helm hard over, she went about, and
they close-hauled her as she trembled towards the rocky opening.
This was the critical instant. A heavy sea was running, the gale was
blowing hard from the north-east, and under the close-hauled sail the
Belle Suzanne was lying over dangerously. But the tide, too, was running
hard from the south, fighting the wind; and, at the moment when all
seemed terribly uncertain, swept them past the opening and into the
swift-running channel, where the indraught sucked them through to the
more open water beyond.
Although the Belle Suzanne was in more open water now, the danger was not
over. Ahead lay a treacherous sea, around them roaring winds, and the
perilous coast of Jersey beyond all.
"Do you think we shall land?" quietly asked De la Foret, nodding towards
the Jersey coast.
"As many chances 'gainst it as for it, M'sieu'," said Buonespoir, turning
his face to the north, for the wind had veered again to north-east, and
he feared its passing to the north-west, giving them a head-wind and a
swooping sea.
Night came down, but with a clear sky and a bright moon; the wind,
however, not abating. The next three hours were spent in tacking, in
beating towards the Jersey coast under seas which almost swamped them.
They were standing off about a mile from the island, and could see
lighted fires and groups of people upon the shore, when suddenly a gale
came out from the southwest, the wind having again shifted. With an oath,
Buonespoir put the helm hard over, the Belle Suzanne came about quickly,
but as the gale struck her, the mast snapped like a pencil, she heeled
over, and the two adventurers were engulfed in the waves.
A cry of dismay went up from the watchers on the shore. They turned with
a half-conscious sympathy towards Angele, for her story was known by all,
and in her face they read her mortal fear, though she made no cry, but
only clasped her hands in agony. Her heart told her that yonder Michel de
la Foret was fighting for his life. For an instant only she stood, the
terror of death in her eyes, then she turned to the excited fishermen
near.
"Men, oh men," she cried, "will you not save them? Will no one come with
me?"
Some shook their heads sullenly, others appeared uncertain, but their
wives and children clung to them, and none stirred. Looking round
helplessly, Angele saw the tall figure of the Seigneur of Rozel. He had
been watching the scene for some time. Now he came quickly to her.
"Is it the very man?" he asked her, jerking a finger towards the
struggling figures in the sea.
"Yes, oh yes," she replied, nodding her head piteously. "God tells my
heart it is."
Her father drew near and interposed.
"Let us kneel and pray for two dying men," said he, and straightway knelt
upon the sand.
"By St. Martin, we've better medicine than that, apothecary!" said
Lempriere of Rozel loudly, and, turning round, summoned two serving-men.
"Launch my strong boat," he added. "We will pick these gentlemen from the
brine, or know the end of it all."
The men hurried gloomily to the long-boat, ran her down to the shore and
into the surf.
"You are going--you are going to save him, dear Seigneur?" asked the girl
tremulously.
"To save him--that's to be seen, mistress," answered Lempriere, and
advanced to the fishermen. By dint of hard words, and as hearty
encouragement and promises, he got a half-dozen strong sailors to man the
boat.
A moment after, they were all in. At a motion from the Seigneur, the boat
was shot out into the surf, and a cheer from the shore gave heart to De
la Foret and Buonespoir, who were being driven upon the rocks.
The Jerseymen rowed gallantly; and the Seigneur, to give them heart,
promised a shilling, a capon, and a gallon of beer to each, if the rescue
was made. Again and again the two men seemed to sink beneath the sea, and
again and again they came to the surface and battled further, torn,
battered, and bloody, but not beaten. Cries of "We're coming, gentles,
we're coming!" from the Seigneur of Rozel, came ringing through the surf
to the dulled ears of the drowning men, and they struggled on.
There never was a more gallant rescue. Almost at their last gasp the two
were rescued.
"Mistress Aubert sends you welcome, sir, if you be Michel de la Foret,"
said Lempriere of Rozel, and offered the fugitive his horn of liquor as
he lay blown and beaten in the boat.
"I am he," De la Foret answered. "I owe you my life, Monsieur," he added.
Lempriere laughed. "You owe it to the lady; and I doubt you can properly
pay the debt," he answered, with a toss of the head; for had not the lady
refused him, the Seigneur of Rozel, six feet six in height, and all else
in proportion, while this gentleman was scarce six feet.
"We can have no quarrel upon the point," answered De la Foret, reaching
out his hand; "you have at least done tough work for her, and if I cannot
pay in gold, I can in kind. It was a generous deed, and it has made a
friend for ever of Michel de la Foret."
"Raoul Lempriere of Rozel they call me, Michel de la Foret, and by Rollo
the Duke, but I'll take your word in the way of friendship, as the lady
yonder takes it for riper fruit! Though, faith, 'tis fruit of a short
summer, to my thinking."
All this while Buonespoir the pirate, his face covered with blood, had
been swearing by the little finger of St. Peter that each Jerseyman there
should have the half of a keg of rum. He went so far in gratitude as to
offer the price of ten sheep which he had once secretly raided from the
Seigneur of Rozel and sold in France; for which he had been seized on his
later return to the island, and had escaped without punishment.
Hearing, Lempriere of Rozel roared at him in anger: "Durst speak to me!
For every fleece you thieved I'll have you flayed with bow-strings if
ever I sight your face within my boundaries."
"Then I'll fetch and carry no more for M'sieu' of Rozel," said
Buonespoir, in an offended tone, but grinning under his reddish beard.
"When didst fetch and carry for me, varlet?" Lempriere roared again.
"When the Seigneur of Rozel fell from his horse, overslung with sack, the
night of the royal Duke's visit, and the footpads were on him, I carried
him on my back to the lodge of Rozel Manor. The footpads had scores to
settle with the great Rozel."
For a moment the Seigneur stared, then roared again, but this time with
laughter.
"By the devil and Rollo, I have sworn to this hour that there was no man
in the isle could have carried me on his shoulders. And I was right, for
Jersiais you're none, neither by adoption nor grace, but a citizen of the
sea."
He laughed again as a wave swept over them, drenching them, and a sudden
squall of wind came out of the north. "There's no better head in the isle
than mine for measurement and thinking, and I swore no man under eighteen
stone could carry me, and I am twenty-five--I take you to be nineteen
stone, eh?"
"Nineteen, less two ounces," grinned Buonespoir.
"I'll laugh De Carteret of St. Ouen's out of his stockings over this,"
answered Lempriere. "Trust me for knowing weights and measures! Look you,
varlet, thy sins be forgiven thee. I care not about the fleeces, if there
be no more stealing. St. Ouen's has no head--I said no one man in Jersey
could have done it--I'm heavier by three stone than any man in the
island." Thereafter there was little speaking among them, for the danger
was greater as they neared the shore. The wind and the sea were against
them; the tide, however, was in their favour. Others besides M. Aubert
offered up prayers for the safe-landing of the rescued and rescuers.
Presently an ancient fisherman broke out into a rude sailor's chanty, and
every voice, even those of the two Huguenots, took it up:
"When the Four Winds, the Wrestlers, strive with the Sun,
When the Sun is slain in the dark;
When the stars burn out, and the night cries
To the blind sea-reapers, and they rise,
And the water-ways are stark--
God save us when the reapers reap!
When the ships sweep in with the tide to the shore,
And the little white boats return no more;
When the reapers reap, Lord give Thy sailors sleep,
If Thou cast us not upon the shore,
To bless Thee evermore:
To walk in Thy sight as heretofore
Though the way of the Lord be steep!
By Thy grace,
Show Thy face,
Lord of the land and the deep!"
The song stilled at last. It died away in the roar of the surf, in the
happy cries of foolish women, and the laughter of men back from a
dangerous adventure. As the Seigneur's boat was drawn up the shore,
Angele threw herself into the arms of Michel de la Foret, the soldier
dressed as a priest.
Lempriere of Rozel stood abashed before this rich display of feeling. In
his hottest youth he could not have made such passionate motions of
affection. His feelings ran neither high nor broad, but neither did they
run low and muddy. His nature was a straight level of sensibility--a
rough stream between high banks of prejudice, topped with the foam of
vanity, now brawling in season, and now going steady and strong to the
sea. Angele had come to feel what he was beneath the surface. She felt
how unimaginative he was, and how his humour, which was but the
horse-play of vanity, helped him little to understand the world or
himself. His vanity was ridiculous, his self-importance was against
knowledge or wisdom; and Heaven had given him a small brain, a big and
noble heart, a pedigree back to Rollo, and the absurd pride of a little
lord in a little land. Angele knew all this; but realised also that he
had offered her all he was able to offer to any woman.
She went now and put out both hands to him. "I shall ever pray God's
blessing on the lord of Rozel," she said, in a low voice.
"'Twould fit me no better than St. Ouen's sword fits his fingers. I'll
take thine own benison, lady--but on my cheek, not on my hand as this day
before at four of the clock." His big voice lowered. "Come, come, the
hand thou kissed, it hath been the hand of a friend to thee, as Raoul
Lempriere of Rozel said he'd be. Thy lips upon his cheek, though it be
but a rough fellow's fancy, and I warrant, come good, come ill, Rozel's
face will never be turned from thee. Pooh, pooh! let yon soldier-priest
shut his eyes a minute; this is 'tween me and thee; and what's done
before the world's without shame."
He stopped short, his black eyes blazing with honest mirth and kindness,
his breath short, having spoken in such haste.
Her eyes could scarce see him, so full of tears were they; and, standing
on tiptoe, she kissed him upon each cheek.
"'Tis much to get for so little given," she said, with a quiver in her
voice; "yet this price for friendship would be too high to pay to any
save the Seigneur of Rozel."
She hastily turned to the men who had rescued Michel and Buonespoir. "If
I had riches, riches ye should have, brave men of Jersey," she said; "but
I have naught save love and thanks, and my prayers too, if ye will have
them."
"'Tis a man's duty to save his fellow an' he can," cried a gaunt
fisherman, whose daughter was holding to his lips a bowl of conger-eel
soup.
"'Twas a good deed to send us forth to save a priest of Holy Church,"
cried a weazened boat-builder with a giant's arm, as he buried his face
in a cup of sack, and plunged his hand into a fishwife's basket of
limpets.
"Aye, but what means she by kissing and arm-getting with a priest?" cried
a snarling vraic-gatherer. "'Tis some jest upon Holy Church, or yon
priest is no better than common men but an idle shame."
By this time Michel was among them. "Priest I am none, but a soldier," he
said in a loud voice, and told them bluntly the reasons for his disguise;
then, taking a purse from his pocket, thrust into the hands of his
rescuers and their families pieces of silver and gave them brave words of
thanks.
But the Seigneur was not to be outdone in generosity. His vanity ran
high; he was fain to show Angele what a gorgeous gentleman she had failed
to make her own; and he was in ripe good-humour all round.
"Come, ye shall come, all of ye, to the Manor of Rozel, every man and
woman here. Ye shall be fed, and fuddled too ye shall be an' ye will; for
honest drink which sends to honest sleep hurts no man. To my kitchen with
ye all; and you, messieurs"--turning to M. Aubert and De la Fore-"and
you, Mademoiselle, come, know how open is the door and full the table at
my Manor of Rozel--St. Ouen's keeps a beggarly board."
CHAPTER IV
Thus began the friendship of the bragging Seigneur of Rozel for the three
Huguenots, all because he had seen tears in a girl's eyes and
misunderstood them, and because the same girl had kissed him. His pride
was flattered that they should receive protection from him, and the
flattery became almost a canonising when De Carteret of St. Ouen's
brought him to task for harbouring and comforting the despised Huguenots;
for when De Carteret railed he was envious. So henceforth Lempriere
played Lord Protector with still more boisterous unction. His pride knew
no bounds when, three days after the rescue, Sir Hugh Pawlett, the
Governor, answering De la Foret's letter requesting permission to visit
the Comtesse de Montgomery, sent him word to fetch De la Foret to Mont
Orgueil Castle. Clanking and blowing, he was shown into the great hall
with De la Foret, where waited Sir Hugh and the widow of the renowned
Camisard. Clanking and purring like an enormous cat, he turned his head
away to the window when De la Foret dropped on his knees and kissed the
hand of the Comtesse, whose eyes were full of tears. Clanking and
gurgling, he sat to a mighty meal of turbot, eels, lobsters, ormers,
capons, boar's head, brawn, and mustard, swan, curlew, and spiced meats.
This he washed down with bastard, malmsey, and good ale, topped with
almonds, comfits, perfumed cherries with "ipocras," then sprinkled
himself with rose-water and dabbled his face and hands in it. Filled to
the turret, he lurched to his feet, and drinking to Sir Hugh's toast,
"Her sacred Majesty!" he clanked and roared. "Elizabeth!" as though upon
the field of battle. He felt the star of De Carteret declining and
Rozel's glory ascending like a comet. Once set in a course, nothing could
change him. Other men might err, but once right, the Seigneur of Rozel
was everlasting.
Of late he had made the cause of Michel de la Foret and Angele Aubert his
own. For this he had been raked upon the coals by De Carteret of St.
Ouen's and his following, who taunted him with the saying: "Save a thief
from hanging and he'll cut your throat." Not that there was ill feeling
against De la Foret in person. He had won most hearts by a frank yet
still manner, and his story and love for Angele had touched the women
folk where their hearts were softest. But the island was not true to
itself or its history if it did not divide itself into factions, headed
by the Seigneurs, and there had been no ground for good division for five
years till De la Foret came.
Short of actual battle, this new strife was the keenest ever known, for
Sir Hugh Pawlett was ranged on the side of the Seigneur of Rozel. Kinsman
of the Comtesse de Montgomery, of Queen Elizabeth's own Protestant
religion, and admiring De la Foret, he had given every countenance to the
Camisard refugee. He had even besought the Royal Court of Jersey to grant
a pardon to Buonespoir the pirate, on condition that he should never
commit a depredation upon an inhabitant of the island--this he was to
swear to by the little finger of St. Peter. Should he break his word, he
was to be banished the island for ten years, under penalty of death if he
returned. When the hour had come for Buonespoir to take the oath, he
failed to appear; and the next morning the Seigneur of St. Ouen's
discovered that during the night his cellar had been raided of two kegs
of canary, many flagons of muscadella, pots of anchovies and boxes of
candied "eringo," kept solely for the visit which the Queen had promised
the island. There was no doubt of the misdemeanant, for Buonespoir
returned to De Carteret from St. Brieuc the gabardine of one of his
retainers, in which he had carried off the stolen delicacies.
This aggravated the feud between the partisans of St. Ouen's and Rozel,
for Lempriere of Rozel had laughed loudly when he heard of the robbery,
and said "'Tis like St. Ouen's to hoard for a Queen and glut a pirate. We
feed as we get at Rozel, and will feed the Court well too when it comes,
or I'm no butler to Elizabeth."
But trouble was at hand for Michel and for his protector. The spies of
Catherine de Medici, mother of the King of France, were everywhere. These
had sent word that De la Foret was now attached to the meagre suite of
the widow of the great Camisard Montgomery, near the Castle of Mont
Orgueil. The Medici, having treacherously slain the chief, became mad
with desire to slay the lieutenant. She was set to have the man, either
through diplomacy with England, or to end him by assassination through
her spies. Having determined upon his death, with relentless soul she
pursued the cause as closely as though this exiled soldier were a
powerful enemy at the head of an army in France.
Thus it was that she wrote to Queen Elizabeth, asking that "this arrant
foe of France, this churl, conspirator, and reviler of the Sacraments, be
rendered unto our hands for well-deserved punishment as warning to all
such evil-doers." She told Elizabeth of De la Foret's arrival in Jersey,
disguised as a priest of the Church of France, and set forth his doings
since landing with the Seigneur of Rozel. Further she went on to say to
"our sister of England" that "these dark figures of murder and revolt be
a peril to the soft peace of this good realm."
To this, Elizabeth, who had no knowledge of Michel, who desired peace
with France at this time, who had favours to ask of Catherine, and who in
her own realm had fresh reason to fear conspiracy through the Queen of
the Scots and others, replied forthwith that "If this De la Foret falleth
into our hands, and if it were found he had in truth conspired against
France its throne, had he a million lives, not one should remain." Having
despatched this letter, she straightway sent a messenger to Sir Hugh
Pawlett in Jersey, making quest of De la Foret, and commanding that he
should be sent to her in England at once.
When the Queen's messenger arrived at Orgueil Castle, Lempriere chanced
to be with Sir Hugh Pawlett, and the contents of Elizabeth's letter were
made known to him.
At the moment Monsieur of Rozel was munching macaroons and washing them
down with canary. The Governor's announcement was such a shock that he
choked and coughed, the crumbs flying in all directions; and another pint
of canary must be taken to flush his throat. Thus cleared for action, he
struck out.
"'Tis St. Ouen's work," he growled.
"'Tis the work of the Medici," said Sir Hugh. "Read," he added, holding
out the paper.
Now Lempriere of Rozel had a poor eye for reading. He had wit enough to
wind about the difficulty.
"If I see not the Queen's commands, I've no warrant but Sir Hugh
Pawlett's words, and I'll to London and ask 'fore her Majesty's face if
she wrote them, and why. I'll tell my tale and speak my mind, I pledge
you, sir."
"You'll offend her Majesty. Her commands are here." Pawlett tapped the
letter with his finger.
"I'm butler to the Queen, and she will list to me. I'll not smirk and
caper like St. Ouen's; I'll bear me like a man not speaking for himself.
I'll speak as Harry her father spoke--straight to the purpose. . . . No,
no, no, I'm not to be wheedled, even by a Pawlett, and you shall not ask
me. If you want Michel de la Foret, come and take him. He is in my house.
But ye must take him, for come he shall not!"
"You will not oppose the Queen's officers?"
"De la Foret is under my roof. He must be taken. I will give him up to no
one; and I'll tell my sovereign these things when I see her in her
palace."
"I misdoubt you'll play the bear," said Pawlett, with a dry smile.
"The Queen's tongue is none so tame. I'll travel by my star, get sweet or
sour."
"Well, well, 'give a man luck, and throw him into the sea,' is the old
proverb. I'm coming for your friend to-night."
"I'll be waiting with my fingers on the door, sir," said Rozel, with a
grim vanity and an outrageous pride in himself.
CHAPTER V
The Seigneur of Rozel found De la Foret at the house of M. Aubert. His
face was flushed with hard riding, and perhaps the loving attitude of
Michel and Angele deepened it, for at the garden gate the lovers were
saying adieu.
"You have come for Monsieur de la Foret?" asked Angele anxiously. Her
quick look at the Seigneur's face had told her there were things amiss.
"There's commands from the Queen. They're for the ears of De la Foret,"
said the Seigneur.
"I will hear them too," said Angele, her colour going, her bearing
determined.
The Seigneur looked down at her with boyish appreciation, then said to De
la Foret: "Two Queens make claim for you. The wolfish Catherine writes to
England for her lost Camisard, with much fool's talk about 'dark
figures,' and 'conspirators,' 'churls,' and foes of 'soft peace'; and
England takes the bait and sends to Sir Hugh Pawlett yonder. And, in
brief, Monsieur, the Governor is to have you under arrest and send you to
England. God knows why two Queens make such a pother over a fellow with
naught but a sword and a lass to love him--though, come to think, 'a
man's a man if he have but a hose on his head,' as the proverb runs."
De la Foret smiled, then looked grave, as he caught sight of Angele's
face. "'Tis arrest, then?" he asked.
"'Tis come willy nilly," answered the Seigneur. "And once they've forced
you from my doors, I'm for England to speak my mind to the Queen. I can
make interest for her presence--I hold court office," he added with
puffing confidence.
Angele looked up at him with quick tears, yet with a smile on her lips.
"You are going to England for Michel's sake?" she said in a low voice.
"For Michel, or for you, or for mine honour, what matter, so that I go!"
he answered, then added: "there must be haste to Rozel, friend, lest the
Governor take Lempriere's guest like a potato-digger in the fields."
Putting spurs to his horse, he cantered heavily away, not forgetting to
wave a pompous farewell to Angele. De la Foret was smiling as he turned
to Angele. She looked wonderingly at him, for she had felt that she must
comfort him, and she looked not for this sudden change in his manner.
"Is prison-going so blithe, then?" she asked, with a little uneasy laugh
which was half a sob.
"It will bring things to a head," he answered. "After danger and busy
days, to be merely safe, it is scarce the life for Michel de la Foret. I
have my duty to the Comtesse; I have my love for you; but I seem of
little use by contrast with my past. And yet, and yet," he added, half
sadly, "how futile has been all our fighting, so far as human eye can
see."