CHAPTER XVI

THE SCRIVENER TURNS TRAITOR

I stumbled along over the uneven ground with my captor at my back. By the time we reached the road it was pitch dark. The trees grew on either side of us like a great dark wall. There was no light save the glimmering of the new moon and an occasional star or two.

For the first half hour I was as docile as a lamb, for I was shaken by the unexplained loss of the scrivener and by the seriousness of my own plight. My captor never uttered a word. Indeed I would not have been aware of his presence had it not been for the crunching of the stones under his feet and a cautioning pinch on the arm when I lagged in my gait.

But I soon found a ray of hope in my situation and new and daring thoughts popped up in my mind. It was easily two miles to the inn. We were utterly alone. The thought of what would happen to me once I fell into De Marsac’s power strengthened my resolution. I was determined, if I could ferret out a means, that I would escape and take my chances again in the woods.

I tossed the question about in my brain. The night was warm for the season of the year. I had on a heavy jerkin of deer-hide that was beginning to be uncomfortable. If I took it off, I should certainly find relief. I drew one arm out slowly with a grunt to let my captor know that I was suffering from the heat. Then I had it entirely free. I rolled it up into folds as though I was going to tuck it under my arm. When I had it ready, I wheeled on my heel and with a swift swing hurled it with all my strength into his face!

I started to run. In that one moment of his confusion I had to make the best of my opportunity. In three strides I had gotten a start. My feet flew over the hard ground as they never flew before. A certain joy filled my heart that I was on my way to freedom. A few more strides and I was headed for the trees. It was my only salvation, for once I could lose myself in the darkness of the woods my captor would have his own trouble in finding me.

I jumped over the ditch that lined the road with the swiftness of a hare. I was making good headway up the side of the bank when my feet were suddenly entangled and I fell my whole length on the sod. It was the coat that I had thrown into my captor’s face. He was more alert than I had reckoned. He must have recovered instantly from his surprise and have started after me. With an aim that was as accurate as it was quick he was able to enmesh my feet as I ran.

He was upon me like a cat. With a jerk at my collar he landed me on my feet. Then with a shove so violent that his fist dug into my ribs he urged me on ahead.

“One trick more,” he growled, “and it will be the end of you.”

I took the affair evenly enough. It was a chance in which I failed. But, even at that, I was resolved that at the next opportunity, I would try again.

Throughout the length of that march I tormented him to the full. At times I walked as fast as my legs could carry me, thinking to wear him out. I expected him to catch me again by the collar and command me to go more slowly, but I met only with disappointment. Every time I turned he was at my heels breathing as smoothly as if he were sitting in a chair. Then I lagged. I drew my feet after me as though they were a weight. I zigzagged from one side of the road to the other. I stopped to pick up a stick that lay in my path and took to swishing the weeds along the edges of the highway. In a word I tried all manner of nonsense to worry and anger him with the notion that at the end he would call me to account. I had hopes that in case he fell into a quarrel with me, it would come to an open fight in which I was sure I would have as great advantage as he.

My pranks came suddenly to an end. I had forgotten the dagger which I still had concealed in my shirt. Surely I could make use of it, even if my captor had his bow and arrows, if I chose a moment when he was off his guard.

I steadied myself and walked along in the middle of the road. I glanced over my shoulder and at the same time felt for the weapon. The haft was near my hand. In a second I could draw it forth and take my enemy by surprise. Slowly and more slowly I advanced. I did not turn again but listened intently for the crunching of the stones under his feet. By the sound I could measure the distance between him and me. When he came near enough I could——

“Do you want to die?” His voice came like a sound from the tomb. So surprised was I that I wheeled about.

“—die?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Get that thought out of your head!” he commanded.

My hopes fell. I knew now for the first time that I had a man of more than usual insight and cunning to deal with. If I were to try any further tricks, they must be managed with the utmost skill and daring.

We went on. The moon rose higher in the heavens. The trees waved their long branches over our heads. The road twisted and turned like a snake. One scheme after another came into my head, but I cast them all aside, for with his alertness and the quickness of his mind my captor had a hold on me as firm as chains.

Of a sudden the road bent. As we turned the corner the dull light from the windows of the inn shone before us. To make sure that I would not make a final break for freedom, the fellow behind me grasped me by the arm.

In a few steps we were at the inn door. It was standing open. The old dust-covered lanthorn was hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, sputtering forth its uncertain yellow light. To my dismay I saw De Marsac sitting directly under it at the table. He seemed impatient for he was twisting his mustache with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and drumming nervously with the other.

My captor had just shoved me across the threshold. He opened his mouth to speak when two fellows in the garb of common soldiers brushed roughly past. Their faces were white from fear, and from the way they were breathing I judged that they had been running. They threw themselves at De Marsac’s feet.

“My lord!” they cried. “The highwayman of Tours is running wild in the forest! He has shot three of your men already. If you will——”

My captor broke him off. He advanced with his chest thrown out and his head high in the air.

“The highwayman of Tours is dead!” he growled in a voice deep in his throat. “I shot him with my own hand. His body lies under a tree about a league to the south on the left of the road. To prove it, here is the boy who accompanied him.” He stopped for a moment and gazed proudly at De Marsac. “My lord,” he went on, “the fifty crowns that you have offered as a reward is mine!”

De Marsac rose slowly from his seat. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let his eye roam over me. He smacked his lips and smiled, as though I was a tender morsel he was about to devour.

“I was glad you weren’t hanged this morning,” he said with a sly leer. “If you had died, my scheme would have gone astray. I’m going to care for you now like a bird in a cage. I’m going to send you down the river to a safe, snug place where you will come to no harm.” He rubbed his hands together like a merchant who has just made a clever deal. “When your brother sees fit to surrender his estates, I shall give you back to him. Till then——” He raised his arm and snapped his fingers in the air.

He turned to the fellow who had taken me and clapped him on the back.

“You have earned every groat of your reward, my man,” he said, and drew from an inside pocket a leather purse. “I am proud of you.” Then he counted out upon the table the fifty crowns in glittering pieces of gold.

My captor was beside himself from joy and bashfulness—joy, that he had been the lucky one to effect my capture, bashful, that he was made so much of by so great a person as De Marsac. He wanted to mutter a word of thanks, but he choked in trying it, so that all he could do was to hang his head and turn his face aside.

But after he had put the money in his jerkin, he took me by the arm and led me to a place at the far end of the room. By merest chance it was the very seat I had occupied the night before.

“You have been the means of making me a rich man, lad,” he puffed as he sat down. “And I’m going to feast you to your heart’s content for it.”

The landlord came—the same wiry hatchet-faced fellow who had taken my dagger. Not a sign of recognition showed on his face. As though he had never laid eyes on me before, he bowed graciously to us, asked us what we would eat and was off.

While we sat waiting, I ran my eyes searchingly around the room. In the semidarkness of the old lanthorn, I noticed De Marsac sitting over his supper with the same smile upon his face. Soldiers came in and out, some of them to bring reports to their master, others to snatch a bite and to make off again.

I rested my gaze upon my captor. The cap was still drawn down half way over his eyes. The flaring red scarf hung about his neck, reaching well up under his chin. A scowl crossed my brow. I fastened a look on him that was filled with hate and chagrin. His two beady eyes twinkled their strange light into mine as though they were laughing at me. The corners of his lips curled slightly up in amusement. Then he winked slyly at me as though there was something I ought to understand.

I grew interested. As though he were a curiosity, I began to examine him more closely. The shine of those eyes and the slight arch of his nose seemed strangely familiar to me.

“You like to eat, don’t you?” he asked, but in a low tone and in a voice that was different from the heavy growl that he had used on our way to the inn.

I leaned towards him across the table. He shot an inquiring glance around the room. Then he put his forefinger straight over his lips. It was a signal that I must be on my guard. With the same motion he let the scarf fall from his chin.

I nearly tumbled from the chair. Of all the surprises of my life this was the greatest. For the man whose prisoner I was, who had sold me to De Marsac for a handful of gold, who had betrayed me as though I were the meanest dog, was the man whom I for the past days had considered my closest friend—the scrivener!

I opened my mouth and gasped.

“You!” was all I could say.

“Pist!” he cautioned.

“I thought you were dead!” I went on.

“Dead?” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Not much.”

“Why, I saw you lying there under the tree,” I argued. “I touched you and you didn’t stir.”

“No, you didn’t,” he contradicted, “not me.”

“Why, your clothes——” I began.

He waved his finger before my face.

“Ah,” he remarked. “There’s where you are jumping at conclusions. It’s a lesson you’ll have to learn, and you might as well begin now—you should never judge a man by his clothes.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Why did you do this?” I demanded finally.

“To save your life—and mine,” he answered blandly. “There were too many of them in the woods.”

“Don’t you realize that this will be the end of me?”

“No,” he replied, “it’s only the beginning.”

“Where will they take me?” I asked.

“Down the valley of the Loire. Keep your ears and eyes open,” he said with all seriousness.

“—and what about you?”

“I’m going back,” he replied. “The country’s too dangerous.”

“Will you tell my brother never to give up the estates—no matter what happens?” I asked, “—even if I’m a prisoner in De Marsac’s castle for life?”

“It won’t be necessary,” he said. “You’ll never see De Marsac’s castle.”