The Messenger of the Black Prince 9

The Messenger of the Black Prince 9

I began to explain.

 

“You see, as I was coming home last night, I happened upon two men who

were quarreling in the woods,” said I, watching his face closely.

 

“Yes,” he answered.

 

“The one got the better of the other,” I went on, “and the man who lost

was tied by the victor to a tree.”

 

He did not change his __EXPRESSION__, but looked steadily into my eyes.

 

“Dead?” he demanded.

 

“No. Alive.”

 

The breath came back to him. He tried not to show it but a faint smile

of satisfaction played around his mouth.

 

“I understand you now, Henri,” he went on. “You have a good heart. If he

is still there, you want to set him free.”

 

With that he clapped my arm under his as he had done just before

breakfast. With a little more hurry than was necessary he made with me

towards the woods.

 

I led him to the spot where I thought the man was lashed to the tree.

But the only trace of him we found was a length of rope. It was frayed

and worn at the ends. No doubt he had set himself free by hours of

rubbing against the rough bark. The ground about the trunk was stamped

and torn as though by the marching of a hundred feet.

 

“The villain’s gone,” I remarked.

 

“Why do you call him a villain?” De Marsac came back at me with his soft

sneer.

 

“Because, Sieur De Marsac,” said I with more boldness than caution, “he

tried to take my life.”

 

De Marsac whistled.

 

“And he failed?” he said. His voice flattened as though it was a thing

he regretted. Then he came close to me. “Do you know, Henri,” he

continued in the same slow tone, “any of us might be killed without a

moment’s warning. There is a man following me at this very minute who is

thirsting for my life.”

 

“It might be the same fellow,” I suggested craftily.

 

“No,” he said, “your fellow is an ordinary lout—stupid. He has made a

mess of his work. The man who is following me is far deadlier. He never

misses—and never fails.”

 

I drew cautiously away, for De Marsac’s words and the snake-like

subtlety of them threw me on my guard.

 

“What do you mean,” said I, “when you say that ‘he has made a mess of

his work’? Is it your opinion that I really ought to have been killed?”

 

His eyes sharpened. Like a man ready to strike a blow his face grew red

with anger and he shifted forward.

 

“You are a smart lad, Henri,” he said drawing his eyes together till

they were almost closed, “but you should be taught to speak more

respectfully to your betters.”

 

I hardly knew what to say. There was no good in the man. He was

underhand in his actions. He had something up his sleeve that he was

going to have out with me. It struck me that the sooner it was over the

better.

 

“You are not plain enough, Sieur De Marsac,” I said, “for me to answer

you.” Then rashness got the upper hand of me and I burst out, “Why did

you follow me this morning, anyway?”

 

He only stood glaring at me. His lips tightened. A wicked glint gathered

in his eyes and he stepped in towards me. I was now truly alarmed. I

looked from one side of me to the other for a way of escape. I saw him

finger at his belt for his dagger. His answer came like a thunderbolt.

 

“—to finish the bungling of last night!” he hissed.

 

I was entirely on the defensive for I had no weapons. As he reached out

to grasp me, I sprang to one side. Then I turned to run for it. We were

somewhat aside of the path and the underbrush was matted and tangled. I

made a leap, thinking to get as far from him as possible. My foot caught

in a weed or trailing vine which held it as though it were tied there.

 

In the next second my legs were knocked from under me. I fell forward on

my hands and face. Then I got another jolt as though someone were

thumping me on the side and shoulders with a heavy log. I could not see,

for the undergrowth was sharp and I was forced to close my eyes. A deep

grunt and a squeal started near me. A brushing of the weeds and vines

followed. Terror crept into my soul for I realized that it was an animal

which I had startled and disturbed.

 

My heart was jumping like a hammer. I rose on one elbow and looked

fearfully around. To my amazement and horror, as I scrambled to my feet,

I saw a wild boar with its snout to the ground make its way through the

underbrush and disappear deeper into the woods.

 

Then came another surprise. De Marsac was standing as white as a corpse.

He seemed to have forgotten me entirely. His eyes were fastened on the

direction which the boar had taken. His whole body was moving nervously

as though he were greatly excited. From what I had noticed before I knew

a fresh thought had started in his mind. Like a flash he was over

helping me to my feet.

 

“Henri,” he called. “You can thank me for saving your life! If I hadn’t

warned you in time, you would have been gored to death!”

 

I made no reply for the thoughts were scared out of me.

 

“We’ll go home now, Henri,” De Marsac said in a trembling voice.

 

I went along with him. From the time we left the woods he spoke not a

word to me nor did he seem conscious of my presence. There was something

brewing in his mind. He continually snapped his fingers as though he was

impatient. He muttered under his breath and shook his head in approval

of what was stirring in his thoughts.

 

Once I heard him mumble, “The wild boar. The very thing. We’ll hunt the

wild boar.” Again, when he appeared forgetful that I was there, he

growled, “It will be an easier way—when we hunt the wild boar.” He

laughed confidently to himself. “We’ll start tomorrow—at dawn.” When we

came to the gravel path that led to the house, he clapped me on the

shoulder.

 

“Tomorrow will be my lucky day—eh, Henri?” he said.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VI

WE HUNT THE WILD BOAR

 

 

We reached home in the early afternoon. It was then that I got a clearer

vision of De Marsac’s duplicity and of the game that he was playing. No

sooner had we laid eyes upon my brother and the Count, when he began to

tell of our adventure in the woods in the most excited fashion. He drew

a most vivid picture of the danger I had been in. He painted himself in

the rôle of my rescuer. His voice took on a high tremulous tone as

though he too had suffered from the shock and were really alarmed at my

nearness to death. Every now and then he turned to me to bear him out in

this or that assertion but went rapidly on again before I had time to

utter a sound. He clapped me on the back. He tugged me by the elbow. He

looked beamingly into my face. To see and hear him you would have

thought that I was lucky to be alive and you would have considered him

the bravest man in the world.

 

At last with a fine frenzy he concluded.

 

“We must track this monster to his lair,” he shouted. “We must drive him

to his death.”

 

I was like a fish floundering on dry land. To me this man was all fraud

and froth. I looked appealingly towards my brother with the hope that he

would see beneath it all.

 

The old Count rose and stretched himself.

 

“André,” he said with a sly wink, “it’ll be a fine day’s sport. What do

you say?”

 

“We shall have everything ready by the morning, Sieur De Marsac,” he

said dryly. Then he turned to the old Count and said, “We must drive

this monster to its doom.”

 

With that he grinned and walked away.

 

That was final, I knew. I went off to the barn and busied myself during

the afternoon with odds and ends that interested me. The day passed and

the night came. We lighted the candles. Until the time for bed we sat in

the great hall exchanging worthless gossip.

 

I dragged myself upstairs first, tired and weary. But I managed to keep

awake until I heard the others follow one by one. When I thought them

fast asleep, I crept noiselessly into André’s room and sat softly down

on the side of his bed. To my surprise he had not closed his eyes.

 

“I was expecting you, Henri,” he said.

 

“I came to speak to you about De Marsac,” I began. “Don’t you think he

is bent on harm?”

 

“Are you worried?” he asked.

 

“I have good reason to be,” I replied. “It was only by a lucky chance

that I was not killed today.”

 

He sat bolt upright in the bed and took me by the arm.

 

“By him?” he demanded.

 

“Yes.” And I told him of the happenings in the woods.

 

“That is going too far,” he said. “Tomorrow must be his last day among