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The King's Esquires: The Jewel of France, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. A Boy's Ruse |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. A BOY'S RUSE The doctor lost no time in thought, but returned to the outer apartment which he had quitted only a few minutes before, to find that Saint Simon had joined Denis and was watching by the bed where Francis lay insensible. "We must act at once," he said, as they joined him and he gazed at a narrow window through which the moonlight came. "Our King is in danger of his life." Denis's hand went to his sword. "We will fight to the last," he said, "and die." "Boy!" exclaimed Leoni contemptuously. "Fight and die! Better act with craft and live. What! Would you fight an army? Bah! It is not by that means that we can save his Majesty from this perilous pass." "Then how?" asked Denis. "Order me to do anything and I will obey." "I know," said Leoni thoughtfully; "I know." And he took a pace or two up and down the apartment with his eyes fixed on the floor, while the two young men watched him narrowly, seeming to be endeavouring to read his innermost thoughts, the ideas which surged within. "There is but one thing to be done," said Leoni at last gravely. "Francis is ill and closely guarded, and his life is doubly in danger, for Henry's intentions are lad." And as he spoke he looked hard at Denis, who said not a word. "And what is that one thing?" asked Saint Simon. Leoni thought a minute or two before replying. "It is this," he said at length quietly. "We his followers are free to go where we list, and Francis must be saved. I, alas, can be nothing in my plan; but you," he went on, looking direct at Saint Simon, "or Denis, might save the King." "How?" exclaimed Denis again, as he firmly met the speaker's peculiar gaze. Leoni turned from him, walked slowly to the outer door, opened it as if about to pass out, and then closed it again, to return quickly to his two companions, and whispering softly in so low a voice that it was hard to hear: "By taking his place while he escapes, and personating him as he lies here bandaged, his face half hidden in the shadows of the heavy hangings of the bed in this darkened room." "I am ready," said Saint Simon huskily. "And I!" cried Denis. "But--the Comte?" "I have thought of that," said Leoni. "He is too ill to understand what is done, and I can mould him to my wishes in every way. We are free, as his servants, to come and go from the chamber, and there may be ways by which we can escape--three of us--that is, the Comte and two followers, while one brave devotee assumes his master's aspect as a wounded man. It may be days before the discovery takes place, and by that time all may be safe. Denis, boy, will you do this thing and be for the time being the simulacrum of him we serve? Good: your face speaks. I knew it. It is not a question of likeness, but of wearing a heavy bandage that will nearly hide your face." There was silence for a moment, and then Leoni spoke again. "What about the way?" he said. "It is night now, but if we could gain the grounds--but how?" "The secret passage, sir," whispered Denis. "It availed once, why not again?" "The passage!" cried Leoni. "No; once used, they will guard it safely now. But stop; they do not know that we escaped that way, and it might prove as sure an exit as it did before. I have seen no guard in that corridor since our return." "Nor I," said Denis eagerly. "But how to pass the gates?" said Leoni thoughtfully. "There is no need," cried Denis. "Follow the narrow alley leading downward to the river, and take the boat of which young Carrbroke spoke. The river! Surely you could escape that way." "Boy," whispered Leoni ecstatically, "you are the deliverer of France! Hah!" he added, in tones full of regret. "And you will not be with us! The river--yes. They would never dream that we escaped that way. Quick, then. There is not a moment to be lost. You will not flinch?" "I? No!" whispered Denis proudly. "Quick, then! The darkness is the best disguise." And leading the way into the sleeping chamber, he busied himself with torn-up linen and scarf, preparing the semblance of bandages, while Denis unbuckled his sword-belt and hurriedly threw off his doublet. A few minutes sufficed for the skilful hands of Leoni to strap and bandage the gallant lad's features, leaving him standing on one side of the bed while he went to the other to draw back the coverlet. In obedience to the thought that flashed through his brain the lad bent quickly forward, caught at the King's hand and raised it eagerly to his lips, half rousing him, to mutter in his sleep, while Leoni took out and unscrewed his little flask and applied it to the King's lips. "Drink this, sir," he said, and in strict obedience to his medical attendant, the sick man drank till the vessel was withdrawn. "Ah!" exclaimed Francis wearily. "I am not well, Leoni. We pay dearly for our adventure. But we will hunt to-morrow at Fontainebleau. Is it not so? Call the Master of the Chase." "You may do so, sir. But you feel stronger now?" "Yes, yes." "Then come, sir." And Leoni snatched the cloak which Denis had thrown on a chair and wrapped it round the King. "We will start at once, sir." "Yes," said Francis, "we will start at once--at once." And he leaned heavily on Leoni's arm, while the latter drew the heavily plumed hat which the boy handed him lower over the King's features. Denis accompanied them to the door. "Farewell," he said. Leoni turned and gazed at him, and for a second the saturnine expression faded and a look of tenderness came over his features. "Until we meet again," he whispered. Then the door closed and the lad stood wondering whether the plan would succeed, whether the King would on the morrow be far on his way to the sea. The next minute he was in the inner chamber by a mirror, smiling at himself, before plunging into the King's place, turning on his side, and drawing the coverlet right up to his ears. _ |
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