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The King's Esquires: The Jewel of France, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 44. The Escape |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. THE ESCAPE For a few moments excitement got the better of the grave subtle doctor, and he was within touch of flinging open the door and hurrying Francis out into the grounds. But drawing in a deep breath he was cautious the next moment as some lurking beast of prey. The key was turned by slow degrees without a sound, and the door drawn carefully inward till there was a slight crack, through which the night wind came in pleasantly to his heated brow, and he paused for quite five minutes, listening; then gradually opening more and more, he satisfied himself that there were no concealed guards among the bushes, waiting to spring upon him and make him prisoner when he stepped outside. His next act was to remove the key to the garden side of the lock. This done, "Now," he whispered, and Francis, who seemed more than ever under his control, stepped quietly out, followed by Saint Simon; after which the door was cautiously locked, and Leoni slipped the key into his pocket. There was another pause, which made Saint Simon utter a low deep growl. "What is it, boy?" said Leoni. "The boat! The boat!" whispered the young man. "We are losing time." "Perhaps gaining it, my dear Saint Simon," was the reply. "Youth is rash; age is cautious. Our progress must be slow and sure." He took and pressed the young man's hands as he spoke, before leaving him to take a few strides for observation along the path, and then returning, musing to himself that all seemed too easy, and that at any moment there might be some sudden check to their progress. Back once more, he bade his two companions follow, leading them slowly and cautiously on, sword in one hand, stiletto in the other, as advance-guard, Saint Simon, similarly prepared, forming the rear; and then on and on they went downward through the bushes, which ever and again brushed against their sleeves, and twice over startled and arrested by a sudden dash as of an enemy; but it was nothing worse than a startled bird, blackbird or thrush, roused from its roosting sleep by the disturbers of its rest. And so downward along the winding, well-marked paths, with nothing to hinder their progress, no guards to arrest, and Leoni strong in the belief that some great check must come, settling in his mind that the encounter would be down by the landing-place when they tried to set free the boat. In this belief when they were nearly there he stopped short, laid his hand upon the King's shoulder to press him aside, and whispered to Saint Simon to join him in the front. "There may be watchers there," he said. "Be well on the alert." The next minute as they moved forward the head of the stone steps was reached, lying in the darkness of the clouded night nearly hidden by a great overhanging willow, whose pensile twigs brushed the roof of the waterside summer-house supported upon slimy water-worn piles, to one of which the boat-chain was attached, the rusty iron creaking faintly against the ring-bolt as the skiff swung softly to and fro, influenced by the swift stream. "Hah!" sighed Leoni to himself. "Fate is with us yet. Who says our mission is unrighteous?" And a feeling of exultation rose within his breast, only to be crushed-down directly after by what seemed to be a heavy weight of misery, beyond which he seemed to see the reproachful eyes of the King's esquire, sacrificed that he might succeed. "Into it and unloose the chain, boy," whispered Leoni, eager by action to change the current of his thoughts. Saint Simon quickly sheathed sword and dagger as he stood on the lowest step and reached out to draw in the boat, into which he stepped, making the chain rattle as he drew it through the ring, and his leaden utter an impatient: "Hist!" The next minute the freed boat was grinding against the step, and Leoni steadied it by planting a foot upon its side. "Now, boy," he whispered, "seat yourself, and be ready with the oars-- good! Now rest one on the step here and keep the boat steady.--Quick, sir! Step in, and sit down at once." The King obeyed without a word, and no sooner was he seated than Leoni followed, and took his own place between Francis and Saint Simon, whom he relieved of one of the oars. "Push off!" whispered Saint Simon, who held the oar that rested on the steps. "One moment's thought," whispered back Leoni, speaking over his left shoulder, as he glared around for danger, his ears twitching the while like those of some wild animal which felt that there was peril in the air. "Now," he said, in a whisper just loud enough for the young man to hear, "if we go upward it is farther into the country, but harder work, for we are against the stream. If we go downward it is towards the capital, and the work will be light, for the stream will bear us on. "Yes," he said, after a pause, "if we are pursued and the boat is missed they will think that we have taken the easier way. No, boy, ours is no time for ease; hard work and safety must be our motto now. Push off and row with me slowly and steadily onward against the stream." Saint Simon bore heavily upon his oar and with a thrust sent the boat's head outward; and directly after, dipping as lightly as they could, they pulled together with a wonderful regularity for such unpractised hands out towards the middle, till a scattered light or two appeared from beyond the trees, showing where the castle lay. And then onward in silence for a few hundred yards along between the dimly seen silent banks of the black river, for the clouds seemed to have lowered and there was not a star. All at once a movement on the part of the King took Leoni's attention, and he drew in his oar, to bend forward and then rise in the boat, for Francis had sunk slowly sideways, fast asleep; while, with the action of a careful mother bending over her child, the strange subtle doctor carefully readjusted his cloak to guard him from the night air, before resuming his seat with a sigh, and taking up his oar. "A trifle, Saint Simon," he said playfully. "There are times when we have to protect our master with our swords, but we must not forget such little things as this." "Ah!" ejaculated Saint Simon, with a groan. "Why, what's the matter, boy? You don't resent having to row the night through like some poor slave?" "No, no. I was thinking about poor Denis. Doctor, don't think me weak. I loved that boy." "Say love," cried Leoni warmly. "Bah, man! Henry may be a tyrant, but he could not be so base as to hurt a boy like that. Row for our lives while I prophesy what I believe in spite of bitter despairing thoughts. We shall live to see our brave young companion safe again." "Bravo, doctor! Your medicine has given me heart. Row? Yes. I can do it now till my arms refuse to stir." And on the boat glided, kept closer to the shore where the eddies played and the full force of the stream was missed. And then on and on hour after hour, with a few intervals of rest where the waters whispered and they made fast to some overhanging bough and spent the minutes thinking that horsemen might be near, scouring the country where they could approach the banks on either side to cut off the fugitives, though not a sound was heard. And so on till day broke and they made fast amongst the trees in the most secluded place they came to, not daring to expose themselves where they might be seen. They had no trouble with the King, for, weak with his wound and half stupefied by the drug Leoni had administered, he slept on hour after hour through the pleasant morning and through the heat of noon, his resting-place quite cool beneath the shadowing trees and with his brow fanned by the soft summer breeze. He did not even stir when, kneeling in the boat, Leoni moistened and drew off the bandages to dress his wound, washing them in the stream and drying them in a patch where the hot sun heated the bows of the boat, but still slept on as if restful and comforted by the chirurgeon's skilful hands. "Better or worse?" whispered Saint Simon, while the task was in progress. "Better, boy, and healing fast. He will sleep for hours yet, and waken quite himself towards evening; but then," added the doctor, with a sigh, "we have another difficulty to face, if we are not taken." "Ah! What's that?" cried Saint Simon quickly, and Leoni smiled sardonically, making his companion wince at the peculiar look in his eyes. "I was thinking, boy," he said, "of how you are going to spread the white napkins and the silver cups for our master's banquet, for he will be hungry, ravenous, after his long fast. You see, he may be displeased to find the banquet cold." Saint Simon stared at him with open eyes and mouth. "Why, you are laughing at me," he said. "Well, why not?" replied Leoni. "Surely, after all my slavery of brain, when success shines down upon me I have a right to smile." "Success!" cried Saint Simon bitterly. "Why, you have failed." "Hah!" said Leoni, with a peculiar smile; and then after a short pause, "Well, boy, what are we to do for food? This water is beautifully limpid and clear to quench our thirst, but it will not appease hunger." "I'll go ashore at the first hostelry we see, and buy what we want," replied Saint Simon. "And expose us to fresh capture? No, boy; we have had enough of hostelries. Every one within reach of the river will be searched. We shall have to fast till we are far enough to venture ashore." "And the King?" said Saint Simon. Leoni looked at him curiously, and slowly placed his hand within his breast to draw out the little golden flask, which he tapped with his finger-nails. "Three parts gone," he said; "but enough left for the Comte's use. A few drops will quell his hunger; double the quantity will make him sleep in peace. When you can bear your fast no longer, you shall have a few drops in water if you are a good boy." "Bah!" growled Saint Simon. "I can bear hunger like a man." The day glided by in perfect peace, the two rowers resting from the past night's labours, and the King sleeping as quietly as a child; while from time to time as Saint Simon glanced at him sadly, thinking of how he and Leoni had been the cause of all the trouble to his friend, he could not help a growing feeling of admiration within his breast as he saw how able the doctor's ministrations were, as shown by the way in which he had treated his master's serious wound. It was during one of these musing fits, when he was wondering, to use the homely phrase, how Denis was getting on, that Leoni, after a long silence, spoke out decisively. "We will wait till it is dark," he said. "It will not be long now--and then row on through the night. It looks so clear that I expect we shall have the moon to help us on our way. To-morrow morning we shall be obliged to risk landing somewhere on the left bank, and then make our way due south, walking till the King is weary--of course after one of us has bought food of some kind, for he will never walk without. Hah!" he continued, as he bent over the sleeping King and carefully examined his face. "He is dreaming a good deal now." "How do you know?" asked Saint Simon. "By the motion of his eyes." "Why, they are shut, sir." "Yes, but look how they are turning about beneath his lids. He is going through some imaginary scene--hunting perhaps." Singularly enough, as the doctor spoke in a whisper, Francis proved the correctness of Leoni's surmise, for he exclaimed: "Yon bosky piece--quick! Lay on the hounds!" Leoni drew back with a smile, and met Saint Simon's wondering eyes. "Yes," he said; "he is getting to the end of his deep sleep. It will not be long before he wakes, and I should say just at dark. Ah, good! It is lightening in the east. Yonder comes the moon. We will start at once; but I must cover him again. The mist is rising in the meadows, and it promises a damp night." As he spoke he bent over the King to draw his cloak about shoulder and throat; but at the first touch of his hands the King started up and caught them fast. _ |
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