Chapter 11

A Scheme that Went Amiss

Paris seemed much as usual. The streets were filled with noisy bands of turbulent people, but there were fewer cries of "Down with Mazarin!" the mob contenting itself with cheering for Conde and De Retz, though several times I heard the Prince's name uttered with every sign of anger and disapproval.

Fortunately my former rooms were still vacant, so, having stabled my horse at the inn two doors below, I took possession, and soon had the satisfaction of sitting down to an ample supper.

"Monsieur has been long away," remarked the landlord on coming to remove the things.

"I have been in the country for the benefit of my health," I replied carelessly. "Affairs have changed since I was here last."

"Ah, yes! The Cardinal has fled, and Conde will be master now. The stupid Fronde is done with, monsieur, and we are all brothers together."

"And the Queen?" I asked curiously, "does she approve of all these changes?"

"She is delighted, monsieur. There will be no rough places or crooked paths for her any more; the prince is so powerful that no one dares to attack her," and the honest fellow departed, smiling with pleasure at the prospect of peace.

Early the next morning I walked across to the Palais Royal, wondering what was best to be done, when, to my lively joy, I found that Belloc still held a command there. I gave my name to the officer on duty, and was immediately admitted to the old soldier's quarters. He was sitting in his room, looking harassed and worn, which rather surprised me, because as a rule nothing troubled him. He greeted me kindly, and as we sat chatting I thought he was trying to make up his mind on some knotty point.

"Were you in the city last night?" he asked presently.

"Yes! The people are wild with delight at the idea of seeing Conde."

Casting an anxious glance round the room, he said in a low voice, "Come nearer, Albert, I am going to reveal a secret. First of all, the Prince is still in prison, and if all goes well this evening he will stay there. You are a brave lad, and honest, and I think you can help me."

"I will do my best," said I, flushing with pleasure at his praise.

"The adventure is dangerous, and it worries me, not for myself but for others. If it succeeds, the Cardinal will be stronger than ever; if it fails----" and he finished with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You may count on me."

"Yes, I am sure of it. Well, this is what we intend to do. At present the Queen has few friends in Paris, but the country will fight for the King. Now, the plan is to smuggle them out of the city, when they will join the Cardinal, and take up arms for the freedom of the throne. Without Conde, the rest will be able to accomplish nothing."

"A good plan," said I, "and the sooner it is carried out the better."

"If all goes well, to-morrow morning will find us far away from Paris. Everything is ready, but I cannot trust the Queen's coachman. He is an honest fellow enough, but timid, and likely to lose his head at the first sign of danger. Do you think you can drive the coach safely?"

"Let me choose my horses!"

"You can have the pick of the royal stables. But, mind you, Albert, this is no child's play. If the mob gets wind of the affair there will be a terrible struggle. I shall not think the worse of you if you decide to leave the business alone."

"I will undertake it, old friend, but you must supply me with a coachman's dress."

"That can be obtained easily; there are plenty for sale in the city, and I will send a trusty fellow to buy one which will fit you."

He left the room, hinting it would be better that I should not show myself, and leaving me in a high state of excitement to ponder over the coming venture. It was a risky one, but I was young and hot-headed, and did not fully realise the danger.

The old soldier returned about noon, bringing my fresh clothes with him, and I put them on. Then he browned my face and hands with some colouring matter, and I was transformed into a very fair specimen of a coachman.

"_Parbleu!_" cried he, rubbing his hands, "you will do famously. Now I will take you to the stables; choose your horses; have them ready, and bring them round to Mazarin's private entrance at six o'clock precisely. You have your pistols? Right. I don't know about your sword, but perhaps it will be useful. I will have it placed on the seat of the coach. First of all, though, you must have something to eat, and I will serve you myself; it is doubtful which of the servants can be trusted."

During the meal he repeated his instructions, and it was plain that the terrible responsibility had made him extremely anxious.

"Mind," said he, as we rose at length to leave the room, "from this moment your life is no longer your own. You must sacrifice it, if need be, for the Queen."

"I am willing to do that, monsieur, though I hope there will be no occasion."

Passing along the corridor, and descending a flight of steps, we reached a part of the palace which I had not visited before, and were met by M. Corveau, who was really in command of the stables, though most of the fees went to a much more distinguished person.

M. Belloc introduced us to each other, and with a last whispered word of advice returned to his duties. I accompanied my new acquaintance to the stables, and after some delay chose two animals for the work in hand.

"You evidently know something of horseflesh," said Corveau, smiling, "but these are rather difficult to drive; they are too spirited."

"They will make it the more awkward for any one who happens to get in their way."

"True; but are you strong enough in the wrists to hold them?"

"I believe I can manage it."

"Well," he said, "I wish you good luck," but his tone clearly showed that he did not expect it.

However, it was useless being alarmed; so, putting a bold face on the matter, I made friends with the horses, fed and watered them myself, and spent all the afternoon with them. A quarter before six I had them put to, and, mounting the box, drove the carriage--a private one borrowed for the occasion--slowly round to the appointed place. It still wanted a few minutes to six when the bells of the city churches clanged forth in thunderous peals, and, though ignorant of the cause, I felt somewhat alarmed.

"That will be awkward for our plan," I muttered. "There is a tumult of some sort going on, and the streets will be crowded. So much the worse for us."

Five minutes passed, but no one had opened the door of the Palace; another five minutes slipped away and the animals were growing restless, when suddenly Belloc himself appeared. One glance at his face was sufficient to tell me that something had gone amiss.

"Get your weapons," he cried, "send the horses back to the stables, and come inside."

As soon as I had joined him, he fastened the door, and led the way upstairs.

"What has happened?" I asked, feeling strangely bewildered.

"Treachery," said he sternly; "we have been betrayed. Orleans has seized the gates, and the streets are filled with a shouting mob. Change your dress quickly, we shall need every sword."

"But the mob will not dare----"

"_Peste!_ the mob will dare anything! De Retz has called the people to arms, and presently they will attack the Palace. Paris will swim in blood before morning."

"But De Retz will prevent the _canaille_ from going too far."

"Bah! you speak like a boy! Once they are roused, De Retz can no more hold them back than he can fondle a starving tigress without being bitten. Make haste and come to me."

By the time I had cleansed the stain from my hands and face, and resumed my ordinary apparel, every one in the Palace was aware of the terrible danger. Trembling servants went about with white faces; high-born cavaliers lined the corridors leading to the royal apartments; officers silently posted their men; everything was made ready for a fierce struggle.

"No surrender!" was the cry from every fighting man. "Let us die where we stand."

Gradually the noise and tumult outside came nearer; we could hear the tramp of marching feet and the savage shouts of the populace clamouring to see the King. Choosing the post of danger, M. Belloc had stationed himself with a few trusty soldiers near the main entrance, where I joined him. The veteran was fuming with impatience; he only awaited an order from the Palace to sally forth upon the advancing multitude.

"The King!" roared the excited mob; "where is the King? show us the King!" and our leader glanced at me as if to say, "I told you the plot had been betrayed."

Meanwhile the Queen and her attendants, working hard, had restored the Palace to its usual appearance; Louis was in bed, sleeping soundly, and all traces of the intended flight had been removed.

Presently a note was brought from the Queen to Belloc, who, reading it hastily, told the messenger to inform her Majesty that her commands should be obeyed; then turning to us, he added that no one was to fire a shot until he himself gave the signal.

"Her Majesty," he explained, "hopes no blood will be shed, but that the mob having discovered its mistake will disperse quietly."

"A fig for the mob!" said a grim-looking trooper to a comrade; "let our leader give the word and we will soon clear the courtyard."

"Here comes an officer," said another; "he is wearing the Orleans colours. What does he want?"

"Bah!" cried a third trooper, who spoke with a strange accent, "this isn't the way to quell a riot. My old master lost his head through not knowing how to deal with rebels. The block for the leaders and a whipping for the others would soon teach them their manners."

The words and the accent made me look at the speaker more closely. He was a young fellow with fair hair and blue eyes like D'Arcy, but he was built more stoutly and looked stronger altogether. His name, I learned afterwards, was John Humphreys, and he was the son of an English gentleman who had lost his estates through fighting for his King, Charles I. At the moment, however, I could not think much of this young exile, my attention being engrossed by the Orleanist officer, who rode across the courtyard towards us.

"Raoul!" I exclaimed to myself, and drew back into the shadow, not caring that he should notice me. He did not seem very happy, and approached our leader as if thoroughly ashamed of his errand.

"I am Captain of the Guard to the Duke of Orleans," he explained, "and am desired by the Duke to seek an audience with her Majesty the Queen-Mother."

"Are those your followers?" asked Belloc scornfully, pointing to the howling mob outside.

Raoul returned no answer, but bit his lip deeply, while the other continued, "It is no fault of mine, M. Raoul Beauchamp, that you gain admittance to the Palace. But for the Queen's orders I would gladly send you back to your friends who make war so bravely--on a woman and a boy."

"Your speech is a trifle unjust, M. Belloc," said Raoul; "I am a soldier, and cannot question the commands of my chief. As to my own feelings--well that is another matter," and with a studied bow he passed into the building.

Meanwhile the mob was increasing in numbers and violence every moment, and, as the soldiers had received orders not to fire, the courtyard was soon filled with excited people who howled, and danced, and shouted for the King to be produced. Two or three times I glanced anxiously at Belloc, wondering how much longer his patience would last.

"Open the doors," cried the foremost rioters; "we will enter and see for ourselves where the King is."

"The King is in bed!" cried M. Belloc angrily.

"Ah! at St. Germain!" shouted a fellow dressed like a street hawker, but whose voice I recognised, "We are betrayed!"

It was very stupid to interfere, but I could not resist the chance.

"Ha! ha! friend Peleton, then for once you are on the wrong side!" I laughed. "Generally it is you who do the betraying."

The fellow rushed at me savagely, but the young Englishman drove him back, saying, "Down, dog! Keep with your kind! You are not wanted with honest men."

"Peace!" cried M. Belloc angrily, for he saw, what I did not, that the crowd was gradually working itself into a fit of passion.

Fortunately, just then the door was opened, and Raoul, coming outside, was immediately recognised as the messenger of the Duke of Orleans.

"The King!" they yelled; "Where is he?" "Have you seen him?" "Speak or we will pull the place down."

Raoul stood on the topmost step, and raised his hand for silence. His face was pale, but he looked very handsome, and was evidently not in the least afraid.

"You have been deceived," he said. "The King is within the Palace. I have seen him; he is sound asleep. Go away quietly, or you will waken him."

They would probably have taken his advice but for Peleton, who cried lustily, "We are betrayed! How can we tell what is true, unless we see for ourselves."

"Yes, yes," shouted the mob; "that is the best way; we will see the King with our own eyes!"

Again Raoul raised his hand and spoke, telling them the King was asleep; they would not be satisfied, but demanded loudly that they should be admitted to the Palace. The situation was growing critical; we stood, as it were, upon a mine, which a spark might explode at any moment. M. Belloc's face was pale but determined; his brows were knitted; he gazed at the mob with angry scorn.

"Give us the word, sir," said the young Englishman, "and we will scatter them like chaff!"

This, I knew well, was mere reckless bravery; we were but a handful compared with the multitude, and would quickly have been lost in the human sea. Still, I liked the speaker none the less for his daring, and more than one trooper grimly growled approval.

Raoul was white now, and the perspiration stood in beads on his forehead. At first I did not understand why he should be afraid, but his hurried words to our leader made the reason plain.

"Unless something is done quickly," he exclaimed, "there will be a frightful tragedy. I will write a note to the Duke, and you shall send it by a private way. He is the only man who can induce these people to disperse."

"He, or De Retz," said Belloc with a sneer.

I had never seen the old warrior so angry. He was playing a part for which he had no liking. It was not in his nature to stand quietly by while his sovereign was insulted; his fingers strayed nervously towards the hilt of his sword; he would have leaped for joy had his Queen sent him permission to charge headlong at the rabble. But he realised, as we did, that the safety of the Royal Family depended more on tact than on brute courage, and he had just agreed to Raoul's proposal when a note was handed him from the Palace.

"_Parbleu!_" he exclaimed savagely, having mastered its contents, "this goes against the grain, but the Queen's commands must be obeyed. Here is an order, monsieur, to admit a part of the _canaille_ into the Palace! Perhaps, monsieur, you will select the sturdiest of your ruffians for the honour."

Raoul did not resent the insult, though his face burned like fire, but facing the angry people he spoke to them boldly.

"Citizens," cried he, in a clear ringing voice, "I have a message for you from Her Majesty. I have told you the King is in bed and asleep, but you are not satisfied. That you may be quite sure, the Queen-Mother desires that a deputation shall visit the royal apartments. Will you be content with the report of your own friends?"

"Yes, yes," shouted the mob; "let us see the King!"

"One word more," continued Raoul sternly, when the hubbub had subsided. "I am, as you are aware, for the Duke of Orleans, and he, mind you, is loyal to the crown."

"So are we! _Vive le roi!_"

"And I will run my sword through the first man who insults the Queen-Mother by word or look."

I was proud of Raoul at that moment, and Belloc gripped his hand, saying heartily, "Forgive my rough words, Beauchamp; you are made of the right stuff after all!"

Directly the door was opened the mob pressed forward, and I called mockingly to Peleton to come inside the Palace, but that worthy, having finished his work, slunk away.

To relieve the pressure other doors were opened, and soon we had a motley throng of carters, hawkers, and shopkeepers, waiting to be led to the King's room. At a sign from Belloc I accompanied them, and for the first time Raoul perceived me. He dared not speak just then, but his face showed how completely he detested his errand.

After a short delay the procession was marshalled into something like order, and I must say, in justice to our uninvited visitors, that, now their point was gained, no one could grumble with their behaviour. They walked softly, and spoke in whispers, and as we approached the royal apartments every man bared his head. The soldiers were out of sight, and the Queen-Mother was attended only by the ladies of her household. The Lady Anne's face betrayed no sign of fear. From her manner one would have thought she was receiving a deputation from the crowned heads of Europe.

The King, as Raoul had declared, was in bed, and sleeping so soundly that the tumult and confusion failed to awaken him. Very softly the men stole past on tip-toe, and, as they gazed at the handsome boy, more than one grimy unkempt fellow murmured, "God bless him!"

All danger was at an end, the raging tigers who had stormed in the courtyard were changed into lambs, and the only cry to reach the soldiers on guard at the gates was, "_Vive le roi!_" As soon as the last man had departed, the doors of the Palace were securely fastened, and then M. Belloc despatched me by a private way to discover what was happening in the city. In order to avoid undue attention I threw a plain cloak over my gaudy apparel, but there was no danger. A few hired agitators endeavoured to stir up the tumult afresh, but the men who had beheld the sleeping King would not give them hearing.

"The Duke has been deceived," shouted one burly ruffian. "I have been to the Palace and seen the King asleep. The Queen does not wish to leave Paris, I tell you!"

In this, of course, he was wrong, but his words had effect, and the mob at that point breaking up dispersed to their homes. For two hours I roamed about, and then, finding the streets rapidly clearing, returned to the Palais Royal with the assurance that, for the time at least, De Retz and his friends had failed.

"Had I my way," exclaimed Belloc wrathfully, "both De Retz and Orleans should find lodgings in the Bastille. However, we have done our best, and must wait events. This night's work means that Conde must be set at liberty. A plague on it!"

"Then we may bid a long adieu to the Cardinal!"

"Don't be so sure of that, my boy. Mazarin may have a fall or two, but he generally wins at the finish. And now, go to my room and rest; we will have a further talk in the morning."