The old man grieved over the
promising young life cut off, and charged on himself the loss and
grief to the women, whose stay he had trusted Berenger would have
been. He said little, but his hand and head grew more trembling;
he scarcely ate or slept, and seemed to waste from a vigorous elder
to a feeble being in the extremity of old age, till Lady Walwyn had
almost ceased to think of her grandson in her anxiety for her
husband.
Letters came at last. The messenger despatched by Sir Francis
Walsingham had not been able to proceed till the ways had become
safe, and he had then been delayed; but on his arrival his tidings
were sent down. There were letters both from Sir Francis
Walsingham and from heart-broken Mr. Adderley, both to the same
effect, with all possible praises of the young Baron de Ribaumont,
all possible reproach to themselves for having let him be betrayed,
without even a possibility of recovering his remains for honourable
burial. Poor Mr. Adderley further said that Mr. Sidney, who was
inconsolable for the loss of his friend, had offered to escort him
to the Low Countries, whence he would make his way to England, and
would present himself at Hurst Walwyn, if his Lordship could endure
the sight of his creature who had so miserably failed in his trust.
Lord Walwyn read both letters twice through before he spoke. Then
he took off his spectacles, laid them down, and said calmly, 'God's
will be done. I thank God that my boy was blameless. Better they
slew him than sent him home tainted with their vices.'
The certainty, such as it was, seemed like repose after the
suspense. They knew to what to resign themselves, and even Lady
Thistlewood's tempestuous grief had so spent itself that late in
the evening the family sat round the fire in the hall, the old lord
dozing as one worn out with sorrow, the others talking in hushed
tones of that bright boyhood, that joyous light quenched in the
night of carnage.
The butler slowly entered the hall, and approached Sir Marmaduke,
cautiously. 'Can I speak with you, sir?'
'What is it, Davy?' demanded the lady, who first caught the words.
'What did you say?'
'Madam, it is Humfrey Holt!'
Humfrey Holt was the head of the grooms who had gone with Berenger;
and there was a general start and suppressed exclamation. 'Humfrey
Hold!' said Lord Walwyn, feebly drawing himself to sit upright,
'hath he, then, escaped?'
'Yea, my Lord,' said Davy, 'and he brings news of my young Lord'
'Alack! Davy,' said Lady Walwyn, 'such news had been precious a
while ago.'
'Nay, so please your Ladyship, it is better than you deem. Humfley
says my young Lord is yet living.'
'Living! shrieked Lady Thistlewood, starting up. 'Living! My
son! and where?'
'They are bearing him home, my Lady,' said the butler; 'but I fear
me, by what Humfley says, that it is but in woeful case.'
'Bringing him home! Which way?' Philip darted off like an arrow
from the bow. Sir Marmaduke hastily demanded if aid were wanted;
and Lady Walwyn, interpreting the almost inaudible voice of her
husband, bade that Humfley should be called in to tell his own
story.
Hands were held out in greeting, and blessings murmured, as the
groom entered, looking battered and worn, and bowing low in
confusion at being thus unusually conspicuous, and having to tell
his story to the head and body, and slashed about the face so as it
is a shame to see. Nor hath he done aught these three weary weeks
but moan from time to time so as it is enough to break one's heart
to hear him; and I fear me 'tis but bringing him home to die.'
'Even so, God be thanked; and you too, honest Humfley,' said Lady
Walwyn.' 'Let us hear when and how this deed was done.'
'Why, that, my Lord, I can't so well say, being that I was not with
him; more's the pity, or I'd have known the reason why, or even
they laid a finger on him. But when Master Landry, his French
foster-brother, comes, he will resolve you in his own tongue. I
can't parleyvoo with him, but he's an honest rogue for a Frenchman,
and 'twas he brought off my young Lord. You see we were all told to
be abroad the little French craft.
Master Landry took me down and settled it all with the master, a
French farmer fellow that came a horse-dealing to Paris. I knew
what my young Lord was after, but none of the other varlets did;
and I went down and made as decent a place as I could between
decks. My Lord and Master Landry were gone down to the court
meantime, and we were to lie off till we heard a whistle like a
mavis on the bank, then come and take them aboard. Well, we waited
and waited, and all the lights were out, and not a sound did we
hear till just an hour after midnight. Then a big bell rang out,
not like a decent Christianable bell, but a great clash, then
another, and a lot of strokes enough to take away one's breath.
Then half the windows were lighted up, and we heard shots, and
screeches, and splashes, till, as I said to Jack Smithers, 'twas as
if one half the place was murthering the other. The farmer got
frightened, and would have been off; but when I saw what he was at,
"No," says I, "not an inch do we budge without news of my Lord."
So Jack stood by the rope, and let them see that 'twas as much as
their life was worth to try to unmoor. Mercy, what a night it was!
Shrieks and shouts, and shots and howls, here, there, and
everywhere, and splashes into the rive; and by and by we saw the
poor murthered creatures come floating by. The farmer, he had some
words with one of the boats near, and I heard somewhat of Huguenot
and Hereteek, and I knew that was what they called good
Protestants. Then up comes the farmer with his sons looking mighty
ugly at us, and signing that unless we let them be off 'twould be
set ashore for us; and we began to think as how we had best be set
ashore, and go down the five of us to see if we could stand by my
young Lord in some strait, or give notice to my Lord Ambassador.'
'God reward you!' exclaimed Lady Walwyn.
'Twas only our duty, my Lady,' gruffly answered Humfrey; 'but just
as Hal had got on the quay, what should I see but Master Landry
coming down the street with my young Lord in his back! I can tell
you he was well-nigh spent; and just then half a dozen butcherly
villains came out on him, bawling, "Tu-y! tu-y!" which it seems
means "kill, kill." He turned about and showed them that he had
got a white sleeve and white cross in his bonnet, like them, the
rascals, giving them to understand that he was only going to throw
the corpse into the river. I doubted him then myself; but he caught
sight of us, and in his fashion of talk with us, called out to us
to help, for there was life still. So two of us took my Lord, and
the other three gave the beggarly French cut-throats as good as
they meant for us; while Landry shouted to the farmer to wait, and
we got aboard, and made right away down the river. But never a
word has the poor young gentleman spoken, though Master Landry has
done all a barber or a sick-nurse could do; and he got us past the
cities by showing the papers in my Lord's pocket, so that we got
safe to the farmer's place. There we lay till we could get a boat
to Jersey, and thence again home; and maybe my young Lord will mend
now Mistress Cecily will have the handing of him.'
'That is it the wisest Hands, good Humfrey,' said Lord Walwyn, as
the tears of feeble age flowed down his cheeks. 'May He who hath
brought the lad safely so far spare him yet, and raise him up. But
whether he live or die, you son and daughter Thistlewood will look
that the faithfulness of Humfrey Holt and his comrades be never
forgotten or unrewarded.'
Humfrey again muttered something about no more than his duty; but
by this time sounds were heard betokening the approach of the
melancholy procession, who, having been relieved by a relay of
servants sent at once from the house, were bearing home the wounded
youth. Philip first of all dashed in hurrying and stumbling. He
had been unprepared by hearing Humfrey's account, and, impetuous
and affectionate as he was, was entirely unrestrained, and flinging
himself on his knees with the half-audible words, 'Oh! Lucy!
Lucy! He is as good as dead!' hid his face between his arms on his
sister's lap, and sobbed with the abandonment of a child, and with
all his youthful strength; so much adding to the consternation and
confusion, that, finding all Lucy's gentle entreaties vain, his
father at last roughly pulled up his face by main force, and said,
'Philip, hold your tongue! Are we to have you on our hands as well
as my Lady? I shall send you home this moment! Let your sister
go.'
This threat reduced the boy to silence. Lucy, who was wanted to
assist in preparing Berenger's room, disengaged herself; but he
remained in the same posture, his head buried on the seat of the
chair, and the loud weeping only forcibly stifled by forcing his
handkerchief into his mouth, as if he had been in violent bodily
pain. Nor did he venture again to look up as the cause of all his
distress was slowly carried into the hall, corpse-like indeed. The
bearers had changed several times, all but a tall, fair Norman
youth, who through the whole transit had supported the head,
endeavouring to guard it from shocks. When the mother and the rest
came forward, he made a gesture to conceal the face, saying in
French, 'Ah! Mesdames; this is no sight for you.'
Indeed the head and face were almost entirely hidden by bandages,
and it was not till Berenger had been safely deposited on a large
carved bed that the anxious relatives were permitted to perceive
the number and extent of his hurts; and truly it was only by the
breath, the vital warmth, and the heavy moans when he was
disturbed, or the dressings of the wounds were touched, that showed
him still to be a living man. There proved to be no less than four
wounds--a shot through the right shoulder, the right arm also
broken with a terrible blow with a sword, a broad gash from the
left temple to the right ear, and worse than all, 'le baiser
d'Eustacie,' a bullet wound where the muzzle of the pistol had
absolutely been so close as to have burnt and blackened the cheek;
so that his life was, as Osbert averred, chiefly owing to the
assassin's jealousy of his personal beauty, which had directed his
shot to the cheek rather than the head; and thus, though the bullet
had terribly shattered the upper jaw and roof of the mouth, and had
passed out through the back of the head, there was a hope that it
had not penetrated the seat of life or reason. The other gash on
the face was but a sword-wound, and though frightful to look at,
was unimportant, compared with the first wound with the pistol-shot
in the shoulder, with the arm broken and further injured by having
served to suspend him round Osbert's neck; but it was altogether so
appalling a sight, that it was no wonder that Sis Marmaduke
muttered low but deep curses on the cowardly ruffians; while his
wife wept in grief as violent, though more silent, than her
stepson's, and only Cecily gathered the faintest ray of hope. The
wounds had been well cared for, the arm had been set, the hair cut
away, and lint and bandages applied with a skill that surprised
her, till she remembered that Landry Osbert had been bred up in
preparation to be Berenger's valet, and thus to practise those
minor arts of surgery then required in a superior body-servant.
For his part, though his eyes looked red, and his whole person
exhausted by unceasing watching, he seemed unable to relinquish the
care of his master for a moment, and her nunnery French would not
have perceived her tender touch and ready skill. These were what
made him consent to leave his post even for a short meal, and so
soon as he had eaten it he was called to Lord Walwyn to supply the
further account which Humfley had been unable to give. He had
waited, he explained, with a lackey, a friend of his in the palace,
till he became alarmed by the influx of armed men, wearing white
crosses and shirt-sleeves on their left arms, but his friend had
assured him that his master had been summoned to the royal
bedchamber, where he would be as safe as in church; and obtaining
from Landry Osbert himself a perfectly true assurance of being a
good Catholic, had supplied him with the badges that were needful
for security. It was just then that Madame's maid crept down to
his waiting-place with the intelligence that her mistress had been
bolted in, and after a short consultation they agreed to go and see
whether M. le Baron were indeed waiting, and, if he were, to warn
him of the suspicious state of the lower regions of the palace.
They were just in time to see, but not to prevent the attack upon
their young master; and while Veronique fled, screaming, Landry
Osbert, who had been thrown back on the stairs in her sudden
flight, recovered himself and hastened to his master. The
murderers, after their blows had been struck, had hurried along the
corridor to join the body of assassins, whose work they had in
effect somewhat anticipated. Landry, full of rage and despair, was
resolved at least to save his foster-brother's corpse from further
insult, and bore it down-stairs in his arms. On the way, he
perceived that life was not yet extinct, and resolving to become
doubly cautious, he sought in the pocket for the purse that had
been well filled for the flight, and by the persuasive argument of
gold crowns, obtained egress from the door-keeper of the postern,
where Berenger hoped to have emerged in a far different manner. It
was a favourable moment, for the main body of the murderers were at
that time being poster in the court by the captain of the guard,
ready to massacre the gentlemen of the King of Navarre's suite, and
he was therefore unmolested by any claimant of the plunders of the
apparent corpse he bore on his shoulders. The citizens of Paris
who had been engaged in their share of the murders for more than an
hour before the tragedy began in the Louvre, frequently beset him
on his way to the quay, and but for the timely aid of his English
comrades, he would hardly have brought off his foster-brother
safely.
The pass with which King Charles had provided Berenger for himself
and his followers when his elopement was first planned, enabled
Osbert to carry his whole crew safely past all the stations where
passports were demanded. He had much wished to procure surgical
aid at Rouen, but learning from the boatmen on the river that the
like bloody scenes were there being enacted, he had decide on going
on to his master's English home as soon as possible, merely
trusting to his own skill by the way; and though it was the
slightest possible hope, yet the healthy state of the wounds, and
the mere fact of life continuing, had given him some faint trust
that there might be a partial recovery.
Lord Walwyn repeated his agitated thanks and praises for such
devotion to his grandson.
Osbert bower, laid his hand on his heart, and replied--'Monseigneur
is good, but what say I? Monsieur le Baron is my foster-brother!
Say that, and all is said in one word.'
He was then dismissed, with orders to take some rest, but he
obstinately refused all commands in French or English to go to bed,
and was found some time after fast asleep.