WHILE Gabrielle was closeted with the Duchess Gerard had made the best use of his time to learn what he could of the Governor’s Castle.
Well placed on rising ground just within the northern gate, it had in former times been a strong fortress, at once overawing Morvaix itself and commanding the approach from the north, the side which was most open to attack. Its outer fortifications formed a long portion of the boundary walls of the city; and in the more desperate times when that district had been constantly overrun by raiders, many a fierce and desperate conflict had raged round its gloomy walls.
Gerard saw, not without uneasiness, that the Governor had restored many of the old fortifications, had constructed several more modern works, and had thus greatly strengthened the place.
The reason was not far to seek. The Duke ruled by force. He ground the people under the iron heel of military discipline; and so long as he was sure of the strength of his Castle and could maintain his soldiers, the people were powerless. They might protest and murmur and even rise in revolt; but under the frowning menace of the Castle, they were helpless.
Every piece of the military machinery was kept in a high state of preparedness for eventualities, and Gerard’s keen soldier’s eye could not fail to note all the evidences of strength and to estimate them at their true value. Whatever the Duke might be, he was a good soldier. Everything about the Castle was regulated with military precision.
Stranger though he was, no one attempted to interfere with him or even hinder him as he made his observations. He had been seen to arrive with Gabrielle, and as the Duke had never deemed it possible he would venture inside the fortress and had therefore given no orders concerning him, he was held to be a guest who had been made free of the Castle, and was allowed to go where he would.
The knowledge gained in this survey might prove invaluable. The plan of the whole Castle was soon clear in his mind and he detected the one weak spot in the defences against which, should the time come, an attack could best be delivered.
This was at a point on the city side of the walls where some works were still in progress. The ground outside rose to within a few feet of the parapet on the top, and gangs of men were at work there: some removing the ground and others deepening the foundations of the walls, while their ladders and tools lay about the place.
Gerard smiled with intense satisfaction at the discovery, which might well have vital importance. If a crisis arose which rendered it imperative for him to make a stand against the Governor for a time while awaiting the arrival of his cousin from Cambrai, Dubois could easily collect the men within the Castle and with them make a dash through this breach; or again, if he himself were put under any restraint by the Duke, here was the road of escape.
With these thoughts in his mind he made the most careful observation of the exact position of the spot, and then descended from the walls to the courtyards below to find the speediest and most direct road to it.
He had completed his survey and was entering the Castle when he encountered Dubois fresh from his interview with the Governor and seething with indignation at his treatment.
“My lord!” exclaimed Dubois involuntarily, in surprise.
“Good day, holy friar,” answered Gerard, with a gesture of caution. “I have heard of your good deeds and would confer with you,” he added aloud for the hearing of a couple of soldiers who were passing.
“We can speak here,” said Dubois, drawing aside into an alcove; and in rapid tones he told of all he had done since his arrival, and then described the interview with the Governor.
“You did well, but could have done better,” said Gerard, after a moment’s pause. “You should have led him to think the sanction would have been forthcoming from the Cardinal, and so have gained time. But it is vain to speak of that now. Listen to my plans.” He told him the result of his observation, and instructed him to ascertain exactly what guard was kept at the works by night, to have some of their own men always watching near at hand, and above all to be sure that ladders were to be available there so that no time should be lost in case of emergency.
“I too have a plan,” said Dubois. “The soldiers here are but a wild mercenary lot, dissatisfied with everything; disaffected toward the Duke and their officers; any man’s men who will but pay them. With a few bags of crowns, many of them could be bought and the Castle itself seized. Even among those who could not be bought, the men of Morvaix itself and the district round, there are many who hate the Governor for his excesses and, in their sympathy with the people outside, are ripe to revolt.”
“Splendidly done!” said Gerard. “I knew you would not be housed in the Castle without results. I like the scheme. ’Twould be a stroke indeed to vanquish this strutting cock with his own spurs. Push your inquiries all you can in safety, using every discretion, and we will speak of it again.”
“Ah, my fine cavalier, so we meet again. Seeking absolution from our new sir priest here, eh?”
Gerard turned quickly at the sneering voice to find that the two gallants whom he had surprised in their attack upon Denys, had come up unawares and now stood regarding Dubois and himself with sharp suspicious glances.
“Is the Duke dead that his serving men have come to power?” retorted Gerard. “Or is either of you minded to renew the affair of the gardens of Malincourt?”
“We are minded to see what the rats are about in the Castle, whatever the colour of their coats.” It was d’Estelle who answered. He was pale and weak, and carried his arm in a sling.
“You are wounded, monsieur, and so licensed for a time in your insolence. But you, monsieur,” and Gerard made a step toward Antoine. “You are still unhurt. Do you carry also an uncivil tongue? If I know not how your tongue runs, since I have not heard it yet, I know at least how your legs run, for I have seen them.”
“This is no brawler’s tavern,” cried d’Estelle, insolently. “You are out of your element here.”
“Peace,” interposed Dubois, in his sonorous tones. “Be careful of such wanton provocation. I have known men’s blood to flow for less. You should guard your tongue, young sir.”
“All right, bald pate,” cried d’Estelle with a flippant laugh.
“You have said nothing, monsieur,” said Gerard to Antoine.
“Peace, my son, peace,” said Dubois again, laying his hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “Would you, too, provoke strife?”
“Good, old Tell-your-beads. What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for such a gander,” exclaimed d’Estelle, with another laugh.
“These gentlemen and I have met before, father,” said Gerard. “I prevented them from murdering a man, and they bear me ill-will in consequence.”
“It was no murder but a fair quarrel, monsieur,” said Antoine.
“Fair? With two swords to one?”
“I caught M. St. Jean maltreating a lady who is dear to me, and did but seek to punish him as he deserved.”
“When I see a liar I watch his lips and listen. I am watching yours, monsieur,” said Gerard, contemptuously. “You were set to murder him and for that purpose rode after him yester morning.” Antoine changed colour and d’Estelle was silent.
“Be careful what you say, monsieur,” replied Antoine, hoarsely. “We are the Duke’s followers and this is his lordship’s Castle.”
“If you do not like my words, monsieur, there is an alternative which men of honour understand,” retorted Gerard, in a deliberate tone, and with a look which Antoine had little mind to face.
“If I do not seek a fight with you, it is not because I fear you,” he answered, in none too firm a tone; “but because there may be a way more useful to my master to deal with you.”
“I appreciate your discretion, and should I need a spy, may send in quest of your services.” Then turning his back upon the pair he added to Dubois: “Now, father, we will resume our discussion of that point about Thomas à Kempis. I was arguing in regard to the warning against apostasy that——”
“Those vermin may be dangerous. They suspect,” put in Dubois as they passed out of earshot.
“A risk or so more or less at this crisis does not count for much; but try to have them marked. They are two of this Tiger’s claws and would scratch from behind given the chance.”
Just then a noise behind them attracted Gerard’s attention, and turning he saw de Proballe, with Dauban at his side, hurrying toward the apartments of the Governor.
“Ah, Gerard, I find you in good company here!” said de Proballe in a cordial tone, pausing on his way. “I have great news. It concerns you.”
“How so, M. le Baron?”
“What a formal fellow you are, with your M. le Baron. We must get to closer terms than these. I’m taking my news to the Governor. Come with me. Give me your arm, lad.”
“I thank you, monsieur, but it is not my wish.”
“Oh, Gerard, Gerard,” cried de Proballe, with a laugh. “You will never push your way in this good city of Morvaix while you show yourself so cold and indifferent. Well, well, come to the Duke or go to the—Church your own way. It’s all one to me,” and with a laugh he swept on. He was in high spirits.
“There is some meaning in this,” muttered Gerard, gazing after him. “Go you, Dubois, and see to all I have said. I will make my way to the Duke. ‘When de Proballe laughs there is the devil by his elbow,’ was once a proverb in Paris, and it may be just as true in Morvaix.”
Without appearing to hasten, he followed de Proballe, keeping a wary eye for all things as he passed along, and quickened his steps when he caught sight of the Governor in the distance in conference with de Proballe, while Gabrielle, her back toward him, was watching them closely.
The Governor had come down in response to de Proballe’s urgent message in the firm belief that the news was that of Gerard’s flight and his first question was to that effect.
“He has gone?” he asked eagerly.
“A word first into your ear;” and de Proballe drew him aside. “Gone? No, thank Heaven! better than that, much better. He is here in the Castle. I have spoken to him this minute.”
“Has he dared?” exclaimed the Governor with a frown.
“Dared? It seems he would dare anything. Wait, here he is,” he cried, catching sight of Gerard. “Now you shall see a comedy. Come, Gerard, come; I was waiting for you. I want your help.”
Hearing of his presence Gabrielle turned and ran to Gerard and stood by him.
“What is this?” demanded the Governor of de Proballe.
“Bear with me and have your guards at hand, and you will see,” was the whispered reply.
“They are always at hand here,” was the curt grim reply.
De Proballe went toward Gerard, a smile on his lips.
“So you have not followed our advice, Gerard, and fled. You like the city and the Castle? Perhaps you were seeking ghostly advice just now from that sturdy monk? I found our young friend in close consultation with a monk as I passed, Duke. Preparing, let us think, for that longer journey which you mentioned as the alternative to flight from the city.”
De Proballe was obviously enjoying the situation and resolved to make the most of it.
“Who was the monk? Do you know him?” asked the Governor quickly.
“He who came from the Cardinal Archbishop, the delegate. Gerard, it seems, is particular as to who shall shrive him. Our Morvaix priests are not good enough. The conference lasted long, too; at least so Antoine de Cavannes told me.”
The Governor shot a sharp glance at Gerard, who said to Gabrielle—
“The monk is one of those whom I met two days ago in the market place, Gabrielle, when Babillon, the smith, was done to death at my lord’s bidding.” He spoke quietly and calmly. “You may remember him; a dark, swarthy, burly man who helped you. The companion of him who stepped between us and the soldiery.”
“I remember him well,” answered Gabrielle. She was oppressed by a sense of danger, impalpable and invisible, but yet real.
“That is all,” said Gerard, with a smile to reassure her.
“Of what spoke you together?” asked the Governor.
“May not a man speak even with a monk in Morvaix without the Governor’s permission? ’Twould seem not indeed; for even while we were in converse, those two jackals who sought to take your Denys’ life, Gabrielle, came up with flouts and jeers and sneers, as though licensed to insult even men of a religious life. I think in truth this is a matter that concerns you closely, my lord.”
“How dare you say that to me?”
“What daring is there in it? I answered the fellow—the one that is yet unwounded—told him my thoughts of him and offered him such reparation as he could take; when he turned upon me and hinted that such insolence as his was possible by your protection and permission. He is yonder; let him come and answer for himself;” and Gerard pointed to where Antoine and d’Estelle were standing at a distance.
“Enough of this insolence,” exclaimed the Governor.
“So I told him,” replied Gerard coolly; “scarce believing it possible such things could be done with your sanction.”
De Proballe had been fretting at this interlude in which he was not taking the important part he desired.
“You need a curb to your tongue, Gerard,” he said.
“Does M. de Proballe desire an opportunity of applying it?”
“What a fire-eater it is!” cried de Proballe, hiding his vexation under a laugh, “and what a wit! Where did you learn to be so free with your tongue?”
“Not in Morvaix of a truth, where every one must order his speech to suit the ears of his Governor, it seems.”
“Gerard!” whispered Gabrielle, with growing alarm at his reckless answers.
“Yet there are things in Morvaix that we can teach persons of even your high character!” exclaimed the Governor sharply.
“I have already learnt many, my lord,” was the dry retort.
“One you will learn. Thou shalt do no murder,” added de Proballe.
“That is certainly a branch of knowledge with many expert professors here,” returned Gerard, with the same reckless air.
His manner was intentionally assumed. He had not failed to discern from de Proballe’s manner that some development was at hand, which boded danger; and he chose deliberately the attitude of reckless defiance of all authority. Intrepid by nature, he had often seen danger met and difficulties overcome by boldness, when no other means could have succeeded.
His bearing toward the Governor, despot though he was in Morvaix, was carefully calculated. As a Bourbon and the son of the Suzerain Duke, with full authority to act in his father’s place, this Governor owed him allegiance, and he believed he had but to reveal his true character to bring the bully to his knees.
Moreover, his hot Bourbon blood was fired by the insults heaped upon him as well as by the infamous condition of affairs he had found in Morvaix.
But above all, and more than all, his chivalry was stirred on Gabrielle’s account; and his new-born love for her filled his heart with fury against the two men who had plotted her ruin and had turned their venom against him only when they found he was no pliant tool in their abominable scheme.
The Governor on his side was no whit less angry, and only Gabrielle’s presence had restrained him from replying to Gerard’s taunts with violence. He meant to use Gerard as the means to force her consent to marry him; and had resolved that he should not leave the Castle until that consent had been wrung from her.
This very resolve, however, made him hesitate. To give him countenance with her, the crime which Gerard had committed must be the ground for imprisonment; and while he smarted and fumed and raged under the lash of Gerard’s bitter words, he had held back. But the limit of his endurance was reached; and as a first step he resolved to send Gabrielle away.
There was a pause of some moments after Gerard’s last words while the Governor made this decision, and then he turned to Gabrielle.
“Mademoiselle, I must ask you to return to my wife for a time.”
“Do not go, Gabrielle, there is no need,” declared Gerard.
“He is right, my lord, there is no need,” said de Proballe.
“This must end,” muttered the Governor.
“It shall end—now. Come, Gerard, I have spoken of your sharp wits. Let us see you use them now. Tell me the contents of this,” and de Proballe held a paper before him.
“I am no wizard to read what I cannot see, monsieur.”
“No wizard; you hear that, Duke. No wizard. Yet something of a wizard surely—to write what you have never seen.”
Gerard on the instant understood what had occurred, but his face gave no sign and he stared steadily into de Proballe’s sneering face.
“Come, Gerard, come. You must know it. It is your own letter just arrived from you.”
The Governor understood it now, and with evidences of great excitement he tore the paper from de Proballe’s hand and read it.
He glanced from it to Gerard, and smiled—a smile full of sinister meaning.
“Do you say you do not know this?”
Gerard maintained the same calm collected attitude. He was considering what course to adopt.
“You hear? Either you know what is written here or you are some lying impostor masquerading in a false name.”
“Gerard! Gerard!” cried Gabrielle, intensely moved.
“Aye, Gerard—or some other name,” sneered de Proballe. “Ask his name, Gabrielle.”
“Now, monsieur, at once if you please,” said the Governor, in a stern imperative tone. “Speak, or I call my guards. Do you know this paper? If not, who are you and why are you here?”