Vayenne

Again the silence remained unbroken.

"Count Felix, do you swear to govern this land according to the same laws of right and liberty by which it has heretofore been governed, and to hold the welfare of your people as a sacred trust?"

"All this I swear to do," answered the Count.

"My lords, knights, burghers, and men of Montvilliers, those are the questions I have to ask, and which you have heard the Count answer. Now question him as you will," said Father Bertrand.

Count Felix stood on the lower step of the dais, and turned to face his questioners. He was pale as a man facing such an ordeal well might be, but he smiled bravely. He felt that the worst was over. Christine had not spoken. The time for the questions which he had dreaded most seemed to be passed. Christine did not look at him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group of men behind de Bornais. One of them no longer kept himself in the background. His companions had made way for him, and he stood almost at de Bornais' side. Why had Roger Herrick not spoken? Had fear kept him dumb at the last moment?

For some little time no question was asked, and then a burgher, stammering in his words and half fearful of the sound of his own voice, prayed for an alteration in some civic law, a mere triviality it seemed to break so momentous a silence. Yet it set others asking questions, and Felix answered them, promising future grave attention where no immediate relief could be given. Such questioning served to stimulate the Count, and a color gradually stole into his face. A new courage was in his soul as may come to a man who feels himself whole, and knows that the danger he has so much dreaded is past.

The questioning was over. A long pause had come, and not a voice was raised in the hall. The dwarf silently put down his bauble by his side, careful that the little bells should not jingle, and took up the torch. Matches were in his hand, but his eyes were fixed upon the dais. No movement below caused him to look away for an instant.

"Count Felix," the priest's voice rang out clearly, "you have answered my questions, you have answered the questions of your people as represented by this assembly. To this throne you must now ascend."

Count Felix turned, and his foot was on the second step of the dais when a loud voice cried:

"Stay!"

Felix, white again suddenly, and to his very lips, looked down into the face of the man who had dared thus to approach the throne and stand even with his foot upon the first step. He wore the uniform of the de Bornais, but Felix hardly noticed this. It was the face of the man that riveted his attention. He recognized it. How could he forget it, since when last he looked into those eyes it had been across keen, naked blades. Does a man ever forget a face seen thus?

"Your interference comes late," said the priest, "yet is it not, I think, against the ancient custom. Until the Duke is seated he may be questioned. What is your question?"

Christine bent suddenly forward almost as though she expected the question to be asked in a whisper. But the words rang out clearly.

"It is no question I would ask, but a demand I make, not to Count Felix, but to those assembled in this hall. I, Roger Herrick, claim my right by birth to ascend this throne as the true and lawful Duke of Montvilliers!"

CHAPTER XVIII
THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

As the moment after a catastrophe is ever one of silence, a hush before the piteous wail of anguish rises or the tempest thunders out its fury, so was it now. Herrick's words were followed by utter silence.

Then the tempest broke suddenly. With a hiss of rage, Felix raised his arm to strike his adversary, but Herrick sprang up to him, and gripped it before the blow could fall.

"I stand sponsor for this man's claim!" de Bornais cried, and the men who had stood behind him drew their swords as their chief did, and ranged themselves with him at the foot of the dais.

Other swords leaped from their scabbards in a moment, and women screamed and scattered, fleeing to the side doors of the hall, men pressing back to let them go. Only Christine stood immovable, and Countess Elisabeth made a sudden step forward as though she would go to Felix's help. So round the dais men waited ready to attack or to defend, but no one moved to strike the first blow.

At the end of the hall by the great doors it was different. There was Barbier with his guard, and at a sharp command from the captain they began to move to Felix's rescue. At that moment Jean sprang to his feet in the embrasure of the window, a lighted torch, which spluttered and flared up, in his hand. There was the crash of broken glass, and as he flung the burning torch into the square below, he shouted in a voice that rang high above the tumult:

"Long live Roger the Duke!"

For one instant the cry seemed a solitary one, doomed to die in its own echoes, but the next an answering roar came from the square below, such a rage of sound that even Barbier's men paused.

"Cut down that grinning fool from the window," shouted Barbier, "and forward to the Duke!"

Whatever his faults, Barbier was a brave man. Had Felix had more like him, the situation might have been saved even at this eleventh hour. But his men hung back, and did not strive with a will against the pressure of the crowd. Barbier alone fought his way through all obstacles, and threw himself, sword in hand, upon de Bornais' men. One stumbled, wounded slightly in this onslaught, and then Barbier's sword rattled to the floor, and with a catch in his breath he flung out his arms and fell backward through the crowd which pressed aside to let him go – dead.

"So he pays for his attack on Maurice," whispered Herrick to the man whose arm he still held.

Few moments had elapsed since the Count had raised his arm to strike, and since Barbier had fought and fallen, other swords might well have been crossed in anger had not the roaring from the square held men back. There was a force around them which there was no withstanding, and the cry of "Roger the Duke" now rang in the castle itself, in the court-yards, and in the corridors. Armed men, shouting the cry, rushed into the hall, headed by Gaspard Lemasle, and in the court-yard was a compact throng of men of Vayenne with Pierre Briant at their head. Barbier was dead in the hall, and one or two who had attempted to defend the castle had been struck down, killed or grievously hurt, that was all. The success of the conspirators was complete.

"Treachery triumphant," Felix said as Herrick let go his arm. "The day is to traitors, Christine."

He had stepped from the dais, and stood beside her, but neither by look nor movement did she show that she had heard his words. Her eyes were fixed upon the place where Barbier had staggered back and fallen through the little lane that pressure on either side had formed for him. It had closed up again immediately, but somewhere behind there he lay, perhaps trampled underfoot. It is not to be supposed that the terrible suddenness of his death had not shocked her, but there was a sense of relief that the whole hall was not full of fighting and death. Beyond this her thoughts were unable to focus themselves. Fear had not held Roger Herrick back, but, as yet, she hardly realized what had happened. She neither looked at Herrick standing on the steps of the dais, nor took in the words of Felix, who was standing beside her.

The shouting was still loud in the court-yards, but in the hall there was silence after the coming of Lemasle and his men.

"Your claim must sound strange to many here," said Father Bertrand. "Is it your will that I explain it?"

"Speak, father," said Herrick.

"So you, then, are chief conspirator, old fox?" sneered the Count. "This farce tires me. Have I permission to retire while you prove to these, my lords and loyal men of Vayenne, how false a claim is made by this man?"

"No. Stay," said Herrick.

Felix glanced at the faces of those about him. A single sign would have sufficed to make him their leader in an immediate attack upon their enemies, but no sign was forthcoming. Even those who were his friends, whose hope of future advancement lay with the Count, were afraid to move with those shouts from the court-yard and the square ringing in their ears.

Speaking very deliberately, Father Bertrand recited the history of the last Dukes of Montvilliers, even as he had explained it to Herrick in the Rue St. Romain, showing that although the late Duke, having deposed his predecessor, had ascended the throne by the will of the people, even then there existed one with a prior claim.

"This Roger Herrick was alive then, a child in England, the rightful heir to the Dukedom," said Father Bertrand. "The descent of the late Duke is known to you all, and all that I have said you can verify at your will. Might, and the people's will, set the late Duke upon the throne, and it is in your power to set Count Felix in his place, but not by right of birth while this man Roger Herrick lives."

While the priest had been speaking Christine turned to look at Herrick, but he would not meet her eyes. His glance wandered from face to face in the hall as though he were absorbed in the thought of how far the people were with him. To Christine it seemed that his own ambition possessed him entirely.

"Is Vayenne gone mad that it will believe such a tale as this?" said Felix.

"Let the Duke speak!" cried a voice in the hall, the voice of Lemasle, and there was a shout of applause, which showed the Count how many there were against him.

Then Herrick looked at Christine, and their eyes met. Something he read in them showed him that what he had feared had happened in spite of all his efforts to prevent it. The knowledge forced him to a sudden determination. There were friends about him, but there were many enemies, too. Any indecision would be his ruin; he saw that in the faces which turned to him expectantly. Circumstances still drove him forward, and he dare not say all that it was within his heart to speak. The occasion demanded strong measures.

"Father Bertrand has told you my legal claim," Herrick said, "yet that should hardly suffice without the will of the people. For the moment let might be my right, and understand why that right has been exercised. That success has followed organized rebellion, shows how ready the people were to do away, not with law and order, but with a man unfit to reign over them. For this reason I have pressed my claim, and for no other. Count Felix has friends amongst you, some innocent, some bought with his promises for the future, but the true value of that friendship rested on his becoming Duke. Those who were taken utterly into his confidence I believe to be few, but at all hazards he meant to be Duke, and to achieve this the Duke's son Maurice must be got rid of. The manner in which this was done was clever, worthy of the man who conceived and carried out the treachery. An escort was sent with Mademoiselle de Liancourt to Passey to bring Maurice to Vayenne, an escort that had only one honest man in it, Captain Gaspard Lemasle; the rest were the creatures of Count Felix, paid assassins. This escort on returning to Vayenne was attacked by a strongly armed band of robbers, who were no robbers, but other creatures of the Count, led by the man Barbier, who only a few minutes since so justly paid the penalty of his crime. A mock skirmish took place in a clearing in the woods. The result you know. Maurice's body was found and brought to Vayenne, and the Duke and his son were buried at the same time in St. Etienne. My lords, is such a man a Duke you would willingly have to reign over you?"

"Is such a lie to be easily believed?" the Count burst out.

"I fought beside Captain Lemasle in the young Duke's defence," Herrick cried, "and Mademoiselle de Liancourt can prove the truth of my words."

All eyes turned to her.

"They are true," she said, and then looking at Herrick, she asked: "Is that all there is to tell?"

It was not. The very tone in which she asked the question showed that there was more to be said, and that she knew it. All eyes were turned to Herrick again expectantly.

"There is no more to tell," said Herrick slowly and firmly, looking at Christine with a challenge in his glance. "What need to speak of the silent and careful plotting which has resulted in this night's success? There has been no treachery against the state."

"Long live Duke Roger!" cried Jean, who still stood in the embrasure of the window. "Long live the Duke!"

The cry was taken up by Lemasle and his followers in the hall, and immediately was roared along the corridors, now filled with the men who had followed Pierre Briant into the court-yard. It was no uncertain sound, and not a dissentient voice made itself heard. Even Felix remained silent, and he remembered with sudden fear how Jean had spoken of a Count once who was hanged over the great gate.

"It is the voice of the people," said Father Bertrand, standing by the chair of state in which every Duke of Montvilliers had been crowned. "Roger Herrick, I demand by what right you claim to ascend this throne."

"By right of birth," he answered, his eyes upon Christine.

"Roger Herrick, I charge you, is there any reason known to you which makes your claim a false one?"

"There is no reason," he answered, still with his eyes upon Christine.

"Roger Herrick, do you swear to govern this land according to the same laws of right and liberty by which it has heretofore been governed, and to hold the welfare of your people as a sacred trust?"

"I swear to do this," said Herrick, and then facing the excited crowd he cried: "Is there any here who would question me?"

The sudden silence remained unbroken, and with a firm step Herrick ascended the dais, and seated himself in the chair.

"Roger Herrick, I crown you Duke of Montvilliers," said Father Bertrand in a loud voice, placing the golden circle upon his head. "Presently in St. Etienne must you wear the iron crown, and there receive Heaven's blessing upon this high estate to which you are called."

Then once again the roar went up from a multitude of throats: "Long live Roger the Duke! Long live the Duke!" And an instant later came the first angry growl. "Down with Felix! Death to the Count!"

The Countess Elisabeth with a sharp cry sprang to Felix's side. Christine did not move, but she looked at Herrick as though she wondered to what lengths he would go in the pursuit of his ambition. The Count's death seemed only the natural sequence to the events of that night.

Herrick sprang to his feet.

"Stop!" he cried, and he looked a leader of men as he stood there, his arm outstretched in command. "Stop! No revenge shall have my sanction. Count Felix may yet live to make a good subject. All we need guard against is his becoming a dangerous rebel. You are free, Count, only for a term you must limit your freedom to Vayenne. You are not permitted to leave the city nor to enter the castle. Lemasle, see that the Count has safe conduct through the streets."

The Countess touched Felix on the arm. Whether she believed what had been said of him or not, this was not the time to desert him. Felix bowed his head, and they passed out of the hall together. It would have gone hard with the Count in the corridors and court-yard but for the men who marched beside him to the gate and presently escorted his carriage to the Place Beauvoisin.

"My lords, I would not ask too much of you," said Herrick, when Felix and the Countess Elisabeth had gone. "Here is no trap to catch your loyalty and obedience. You were not bid to my coronation; those who will are free to depart. No harm shall be done you in Vayenne, only within seven days shall you promise me service, or you will be reckoned amongst my enemies."

There was a pause, and then an old man stepped forward.

"My Lord Duke, I have ever been a loyal servant to my country. My name is amongst the oldest in the land, and, therefore, it becomes me, perhaps, to give words to what many here must feel. This that has happened to-night has come without warning. You are a stranger to us, and we cannot know whether all that we have heard to-night, either of yourself or of Count Felix, is true, or whether there is not something held back from our knowledge which might give a different complexion to this affair. It is only just, therefore, that we have time for consideration, only just that no suspicion should fall upon us though we do not bow the knee and take oaths upon us to-night."

"Your contention is reasonable," Herrick answered. "I have given you seven days."

"I would be the first to wish your Grace long life, and herewith I proffer my service," said de Bornais, kneeling for a moment at the foot of the dais.

A few followed his example, some honestly enough, since they hated the Count, others making haste to put themselves forward prominently. But the greater number chose to take the seven days for consideration, and passed from the hall without kneeling.

De Bornais and his men, still with swords drawn, stood round the dais, the Duke's guard of honor, as the hall slowly emptied. Gaspard Lemasle had cleared the corridors, with the promise that the Duke should come presently on to the terrace above the court-yard and speak to his loyal subjects. The nobles passed to their lodgings in the castle, or waited in ante-rooms until they could be taken through the streets in safety. The murmur of the great crowd, like the distant ocean breaking on a rock-bound shore, could still be heard, but the excitement had died down. The thing that these men had come to do was accomplished.

Jean leaped from the embrasure of the window, and, waddling across the hall, seated himself on the lowest step of the dais, close to where Christine still stood immovable.

"Has Mademoiselle de Liancourt no word for us?" said Herrick, when the last of the nobles had gone.

She started at the sound of her name, but she did not speak.

"You gave us a certain promise, mademoiselle, which I warned you it would be hard to fulfil."

"So hard, sir, that it has already passed from my memory," she said.

"I feared so," Herrick returned quietly. "Later, perhaps, you will understand. Mademoiselle, with you I make no bargain. Take time for consideration, as long as you will. Though you hate me, I swear never to number you among my enemies."

"I understand," she said, turning to him quickly, "and I want no time for consideration. I shall never recognize your title to sit on the throne of Montvilliers. You have cleverly realized your ambition, and in a measure I have unwittingly helped you to it. Count me as you will, but I make no secret of my enmity. It shall last to the end, and those who plot against you shall find me a willing tool. It is not for nothing that I have loved this land, for the good of it I am prepared for any sacrifice, and am I, Christine de Liancourt, to bend the knee to an English adventurer, who, with the help of a fool and a mob and his own mother-wit, seizes the throne? To-night madness has run riot, the reaction has to come, and be very sure it will come. What real value is the support of a mob? To-day it shouts for you, to-morrow it will as easily shout for another. Live out your little dream, I promise you a rude awakening. To-night is yours, and I bow to circumstances which give you power to-night. Have I your leave to depart?"

"Whither, lady?"

She looked at him defiantly.

"Though we have sworn never to count you amongst our enemies, we are not ignorant of the power of so fair a rebel. There was an order issued by Count Felix that Mademoiselle de Liancourt was not to be allowed out of the castle, that order I endorse."

"Am I a prisoner?" she asked.

"No mademoiselle; an honored guest in my Castle of Vayenne. De Bornais, I deliver our guest into your keeping. And, Lemasle, see that the password is changed presently. 'Obedience and trust' have little meaning."

Christine looked at Herrick once swiftly, and then passed out of the hall, followed by de Bornais and his men. Herrick, the golden circle upon his brow, leaned back in his chair like a tired man. Father Bertrand stood beside him. Lemasle stood at the foot of the dais, and Jean sat on the lowest step. They were alone.

"You look too glum for a successful man, friend Roger," said the dwarf.

"Success leaves a bitter taste upon my lips."

"It will pass with morning," said the priest.

"It shall last to the end," said Herrick, repeating Christine's words.

"I fear you have been too lenient," said Lemasle, letting his sword fall with a rattle into its scabbard.

"He, at least, has found the payment sufficiently high," said Jean, and the bells on his bauble jingled as he pointed it at the dead body of Captain Barbier.