CHAPTER XXVIII
A RISING AND ITS SEQUEL
THE officer stared with growing anger, first at Dubois, then back at Gerard, and lastly at the four of his men who had moved away and left him and the one Castle soldier alone in the middle of the room.
“Is this mutiny?” he cried furiously, drawing his sword.
“I’ll answer that,” said Dubois. “It would be a mutiny if they were to turn against their own officer. And they will not. This is my doing, and the responsibility is mine. I will not let you take your prisoners away.”
“We’ll see to that. Jean, if that man does not stand from the door, you will fire at him.” The musket was levelled. “Now, monsieur, if you please, stand from the door,” he cried sternly.
But the musket was not fired. Gerard stepped swiftly behind the man, seized his weapon and dragged it from him.
“We can have no firing here,” he said quietly.
“You will resist capture at your peril;” and the officer turned on him.
“I am quite prepared for that, captain,” interposed Dubois; “but it is you who are in peril, not we. You will give me your sword.”
The officer appealed almost fiercely to the four men.
“Do you mean to stand by and witness this? You will pay for it if you do with your lives.”
“My soldiers are not trained to man-hunting, monsieur,” said Dubois. “Come, we have wasted enough time. Will you surrender to us?”
The answer was a swift rush and an attack, which Dubois parried with the coolness of a wary and practised fencer. The four soldiers looked on stolidly, and the one who had been disarmed watched the duel with the staring gaze of bewilderment and alarm.
It lasted but a minute or two, when Dubois, forcing the fight with irresistible vigour, drove his antagonist back till, stepping on the fallen musket, he tripped and fell, and his sword went clattering out of his hand over the boards.
Dubois picked it up, and sheathed his own weapon. At that moment the Castle soldier made a dash for the door to escape, only to be stopped by two of the Bourbon men.
“You should not have driven me to this, monsieur,” said Dubois in a tone of quiet authority. The officer had risen and stood with folded arms, his face flushed with anger and his brow sullen with the chagrin and humiliation of his ignominious failure. “You must accompany me. No harm will come to you if you obey. But we are resolute men, and our lives may be at stake.” He signed to his own soldiers to bring the prisoner along, and all left the room.
“What is he going to do, Gerard?” asked Gabrielle. “How terrible he looked in that fight.”
“He’s a strenuous antagonist to face at such a time; but he meant only to disarm the other. He could have killed him half a dozen times had he been so minded. He has done splendidly.”
“But what next? We cannot stay here now.”
“No, indeed, for we shall have more of the Castle men here soon to learn the cause of the delay.”
“What can have happened to Lucette? Dear, brave Lucette.”
“We are fast nearing the end of our troubles, Gabrielle. D’Alembert should be up by nightfall at latest if all has gone well with our couriers, and we ought to be in Malincourt within an hour, where we can wait for him in safety.”
Dubois and the four soldiers returned then, Dubois dressed in the uniform of a Castle man; and Gabrielle could not restrain a little cry of astonishment at recognizing him, while Gerard smiled as he divined his intention.
“My plan is, my lord, that we use our men and play the guard to escort you and mademoiselle as prisoners through the streets. We have secured the captain and his man, so that they can give us no trouble.”
“And a good plan it is, Dubois,” agreed Gerard. “We are well through an ugly business, thanks to you. The sooner we start the better.”
It was about two hours after noon when they left Babillon’s house; but while they had been sheltered there events had occurred which had set the whole of the little city in a ferment.
The first cause had been slight: a very trifle; no more than the young lieutenant’s curiosity at Lucette’s name at the attempt to pass the gate. He had, in the first place, sent men to follow her; and although she had reached Gerard and Gabrielle and got well away undiscovered, the pursuit had been far from fruitless. Two of the men loitering about had seen Gerard when he returned with the horses.
They were making their report of this when the soldier whom Pascal had tricked returned without him, and in a semi-intoxicated muddle had told the story of two Pascals. Alarmed by this, the lieutenant had sent at once to the Castle, with the result that instant and most vigorous measures were taken to trace the fugitives. The fact that the horses had been obtained at no great distance from Babillon’s house caused that district to be searched first, while large numbers of patrol parties were sent through the city.
This step roused the citizens again, and despite Dubois’ opinion as to the indecision of the burgher leaders, they had resolved to take active measures; while the bulk of the citizens, inflamed by their long-standing wrongs, were quickly on fire when the soldiers turned out and the news spread that they were hunting for Gabrielle.
All the elements for a collision were thus present, and the streets were thronged with the people, who eyed the soldiers with lowering looks of deadly hate, and needed but a little provocation to drive them to open and violent revolt.
And that provocation the Governor himself afforded at the very time when Gerard and his little party were endeavouring to escort Gabrielle to Malincourt.
The Governor, hearing of the danger of trouble in the city, hurried from the Castle with the intention of conferring with the chief burghers and renewing the assurances already given that no harm threatened Gabrielle; and he chanced to reach the market place just when the crowd was in its most dangerous temper.
In the centre of the market place the officers who were conducting the search had taken up a position, guarded by a number of troops, and to them all the prisoners captured by the patrols and search parties were brought for purposes of identification. The crowd, constantly swelling in numbers, watched the proceedings with intense indignation. Jeers and groans greeted the arrival of every prisoner, and loud flouting laughter went up whenever a prisoner was identified and released, accompanied by threatening murmurs of discontent and anger.
At length stones began to be thrown, and when one struck the officer in command in the face the crowd raised a wild shout of delight. Smarting under the blow, he ordered the crowd to be charged. Several were wounded, and the sight so enraged the rest that volleys of stones came from other directions just as the Governor rode up.
His first command was for the market place to be cleared. This was done, for the crowd broke and fled before the weapons of the troops; and a great number of the citizens were caught, stones in hand, and brought back to the Governor. His temper was up now, and threatening them with heavy punishment, he ordered the whole of them to be marched to the Castle by the troops.
The fear of a rescue necessitated the escort being very heavy, and this step left the troops round him comparatively weak in numbers. When the crowd began to return, some one was quick to perceive this weakness, and called on the rest, who came surging back in great strength. A very ugly rush followed almost immediately, which the troops found great difficulty in resisting, as the crowd had now armed themselves with staves and bars and such crude weapons as they had been able to snatch up in the hurry. Some very hot fighting ensued, in which fierce blows were given and taken on both sides, and the soldiers seemed likely to be overpowered.
It was at this juncture, just as messengers had been sent to bring up more troops, that Gerard’s little party reached the market place close to the point near the statue, where the Governor stood watching the fray with very anxious eyes as he saw his soldiers being beaten down one by one. The crowd seemed to grow in numbers and fierceness every moment, until after a last desperate rush the soldiers turned and scattered in all directions to be hustled, struck down and lost in the surging mass of the people, whose leaders had possessed themselves of the soldiers’ weapons, and now threatened the Governor himself and the handful of men who were clustered round him.
“Long live Malincourt! Long live Malincourt! Down with the Tyrant! Remember our wrongs!” were the cries in hundreds of strenuous voices on all sides; and after a hot exchange of words between the leaders and the Governor, one of those near him was struck, and the blow was the signal for an attack on the rest, who were beaten back helpless against the resistless anger of the populace. It appeared certain that the next moment would see the Governor himself in the hands of the crowd, whose passions, nurtured on their long endured wrongs and whetted now by their victory, were roused to such a pitch of fury that they would have torn him to pieces.
The Governor, now fear-filled and terror-cowed, stood shrinking against the statue from the sea of angry menacing faces which glared round him when Gerard, who had forced his way through the throng, sprang between the cowering figure and the mob, and with uplifted hand cried in a commanding voice that rose above the din—
“Mademoiselle de Malincourt is safe. She is here.”
He pointed to where, on the fringe of the crowd, Gabrielle stood with Dubois; and for a moment there was a lull in the storm as the crowd craned their necks for a glimpse of her.
But the sense of wrong, the thirst for vengeance, the hate of the Tyrant and the sight of him now almost within touch of the hands outstretched to seize him, soon re-kindled the flame, and the clamour broke out again, and now was directed also against this daring monk who stood between them and their prey.
“Down with the monk! Death to the Tyrant!”
The cry began near at hand, and was caught up by those round until it swelled into a loud roar, vehement, menacing and perilous.
“Save me, save me,” said the Governor, cowering now between the statue and Gerard, who, undaunted by the angry faces and clenched and threatening hands, faced the mob, and again sent his voice ringing like a clarion among them.
“Peace! Are ye men that would do this violence? Miladi of Malincourt is safe.”
Once more his commanding presence and fearless calm stilled them for a pause; and before the storm could break out again a strange change came.
Gabrielle had seen Gerard’s peril, and believing that he would be the next victim of the mob, had made herself known to the people around her, who broke out into shouts of joy, and amid a storm of cries and cheers she passed through the ranks, mounted the steps of the statue and took her stand by Gerard’s side.
A thunder of cheers greeted her appearance, and the air was rent with cries of “Long live Malincourt!”
But the danger was not over yet, for when the Governor, gathering some courage from the changed temper of the mob, showed himself for a moment at Gabrielle’s side, the cheers changed with ominous suddenness to shouts and execrations and groans in the same deafening clamour.
“For God’s sake, save me from them,” he said, shrinking again behind Gerard. “They will tear me to pieces.”
“May we promise them an end to their sufferings?” asked Gabrielle.
“Yes, yes, anything. I will do anything. My God, anything!”
“Down with the Tyrant. Give him to us. Death to the Tiger of Morvaix!” came the cries, with even fiercer vehemence.
Again Gerard stood with uplifted hand.
“Peace!” he called. “Miladi of Malincourt will speak to you.”
At this the cheers came again as Gabrielle, with heightened colour, waited for silence.
“I beg you listen to me. I bring you peace, and in the name of the Governor I promise you an end to your wrongs and sufferings.”
The cheers rang out again, and as they died down some voices called: “We are starving. What of the tax on our food?”
“It shall be repealed,” said the Governor.
“The Governor pledges his word it shall be repealed,” cried Gabrielle. A deafening storm of wild joyous shouts burst out with mighty cries of “God bless Malincourt! Long live Miladi of Malincourt!”
“Will he keep his promise?” cried a stentorian voice.
“I pledge my honour.”
Gerard repeated this in his ringing tone.
“The Governor pledges his honour as a noble of France to repeal the tax—a pledge no man dare break.”
“You have saved my life, mademoiselle, you and this monk,” said the Governor, not recognizing Gerard, who had kept his face carefully averted, and now drew his cowl closer.
“We have saved the people,” answered Gabrielle, whose eyes were shining with the excitement of the scene.
“Get me away if you can,” said the Governor next. “Oh, thank God, thank God, at last!” he cried with a sudden change of tone, as a volley of musketry was heard, and a large body of mounted troops dashed through the crowd and mustered in force round the statue, on the base of which the three stood.
With the troops round him, the Governor’s courage returned, and as his fears vanished his true nature reasserted itself. He scowled at the crowd.
“Charge them, charge them, the canaille!” he cried passionately. “Cut them down, the dogs. To threaten me! Give them the steel!”
“My lord, is this keeping your pledge?” asked Gerard indignantly.
“You did well, sir monk, you saved my life, and shall have fitting reward; but this is my business.”
“You pledged your honour as a noble of France, my lord Duke,” protested Gerard.
At this moment de Proballe broke through the troops and came hurrying to the Governor.
“You are not hurt, my lord, I trust,” he cried.
“It is not your fault that I was not torn to pieces by the mob. But for mademoiselle, your niece, and this good monk, who stopped the mob in the moment of frenzy, I should have been.”
“My God!” exclaimed de Proballe, recognizing Gerard. “Do you know who that monk is? The villain de Cobalt!”
The Governor, who stood close to Gerard, stepped back hastily, as if in fear of some treachery, and when at a safe distance scowled at him with eyes of hate.
“It is well,” he said between his teeth. “I promised you a fitting reward. You shall have it.” He smiled, and turning to the soldiers near him, he ordered: “Arrest him.”
“You will not do this, my lord. You cannot be so cowardly,” cried Gabrielle, putting herself before Gerard. But this act only served to infuriate him.
“Arrest him, I say,” he repeated. “It is I rule here, mademoiselle, not you. You shall not protect him and cannot save him from the fate he merits. You have done enough ill for the people already.”
“This injustice shall not be done,” declared Gabrielle indignantly.
“You will answer for this to me, my lord Duke, as the son of your Suzerain,” said Gerard, stepping forward.
“Yes. I will answer to you and for you; and answer now, in this way.”
He signed to the soldiers, who then laid hands on Gerard.
“I will appeal to the people,” cried Gabrielle vehemently.
“There shall be substance for your appeal, too,” he replied. He was like a man beside himself with passion. “He shall not escape me again. Have a space cleared there,” he thundered to his men. “Bring up a file of men. This man is a spy and the ringleader of all the tumults to-day. He is condemned to death, and shall die now.”
Even his officers stood aghast at this.
“I demand, at least, the appearance of a trial,” said Gerard calmly.
“You have been tried already. I know your crimes, and have tried and condemned you. Do as I say,” he thundered to the officers, “or by the God of Heaven I shall know how to deal with those who mutiny against me.”
“I am the son of the Duke of Bourbon, and in his name I command you to disregard the Governor’s order,” said Gerard in a loud, firm tone.
“It is a lie, a lie. Disobey me at your peril.”
Two of the officers approached and were venturing upon a remonstrance, when the Governor, mad with his rage, struck one of them a violent blow on the face and himself called up a file of the soldiers.
“Bring that villain here,” he said to the men who held Gerard. They were too frightened to disobey him.
Gabrielle watched with bated breath, and was springing forward to again interfere when de Proballe put himself in her way.
“My lord, my lord,” she cried in an agony of distress and fear. “I urge you, I beg you not to do this thing.”
But the Governor was deaf to her entreaty, and having drawn up the file of men, stood by them, and himself gave the command in a voice thick with rage.
Gerard faced the men without a tremor.
“There will be a heavy reckoning for all concerned in this,” he said; and his voice was as calm and steady as before.
The Governor’s command rang out stern and sharp, and the guns went up to the men’s shoulders.
Then, with a scream, Gabrielle tore herself from de Proballe, and snatching a sword from an officer as she passed, rushed in front of Gerard and held it to her heart.
“If he dies, I will plunge this to my heart, and my blood, with his, shall cry for vengeance upon you.”
The Governor listened, his angry eyes fixed on Gabrielle.
“And if he lives?”
“I will do all you have asked.”
“No,” cried Gerard loudly. “I will not take my life on such a condition.”
A moment’s pause of acute suspense followed. Then the Governor nodded and said curtly—
“It is enough. You have saved his life, mademoiselle. He shall go free. But first take him to the Castle.”
And in a few minutes the troops were on their way to the Castle, with Gerard in their midst, once more a prisoner.