"To see the completion of the good work begun this.morning.""You have come the right road.I go to kindle the north to a holy emulation.That heretic dog behind is a Picard, and I bring him to Amiens that he may perish there as a warning to his countrymen.""So?" said Gaspard, and at the word the Huguenot's horse, pricked stealthily by Champernoun's sword, leaped forward and dashed in fright up the hill, its rider sitting stiff as a doll in his bonds.The Jacobin cried out and the soldiers made as if to follow, but Gaspard's voice checked them."Let be.The beast will not go far.I have matters of importance to discuss with this reverend father."The priest's face sharpened with a sudden suspicion."Your manners are somewhat peremptory, sir Spaniard.But speak and let us get on.""I have only the one word.I told you we had come north to see the fruition of the good work, and you approved.We do not mean the same.By good work Imean that about sunrise I slew with this sword the man Petrucci, who slew the Admiral.By its fruition I mean that I have come to settle with you.""You...?" the other stammered.
"I am Gaspard de Laval, a kinsman and humble follower of Goligny."The Jacobin was no coward."Treason!" he cried."A Huguenot! Cut them down, my men," and he drew a knife from beneath his robe.
But Gaspard's eye and voice checked the troopers.He held in his hand the gold trinket."I have no quarrel with you.This is the passport of your leader, the Duke.I show it to you, and if you are questioned about this day's work you can reply that you took your orders from him who carried Guise's jewel.Go your ways back to Paris if you would avoid trouble."Two of the men seemed to waver, but the maddened cry of the priest detained them."They seek to murder me," he screamed."Would you desert God's Church and burn in torment for ever?" He hurled himself on Gaspard, who caught his wrist so that the knife tinkled on the high road while the man overbalanced himself and fell.The next second the mellay had begun.
It did not last long.The troopers were heavy fellows, cumbrously armed, who, even with numbers on their side, stood little chance against two swift swordsmen, who had been trained to fight together against odds.One Gaspard pulled from the saddle so that he lay senseless on the ground.One Champernoun felled with a sword cut of which no morion could break the force.The two others turned tail and fled, and the last seen of them was a dust cloud on the road to Paris.
Gaspard had not drawn his sword.They stood by the bridge of a little river, and he flung Guise's jewel far into its lilied waters.
"A useful bauble," he smiled, "but its purpose is served."The priest stood in the dust, with furious eyes burning in an ashen face.
"What will you do with me?"
"This has been your day of triumph, father.I would round it off worthily by helping you to a martyr's crown.Gawain," and he turned to his companion, "go up the road and fetch me the rope which binds the minister."The runaway was feeding peaceably by the highway.Champernoun cut the old man's bonds, and laid him fainting on the grass.He brought back with him a length of stout cord.
"Let the brute live," he said."Duck him and truss him up, but don't dirty your hands with him.I'd as lief kill a woman as a monk."But Gaspard's smiling face was a rock."This is no Englishman's concern.
To-day's shame is France's and a Frenchman alone can judge it.Innocent blood is on this man's hands, and it is for me to pay the first instalment of justice.The rest I leave to God."So when an hour later the stunned troopers recovered their senses they found a sight which sent them to their knees to patter prayers.For over the arch of the bridge dangled the corpse of the Jacobin.And on its breast it bore a paper setting forth that this deed had been done by Gaspard de Laval, and the Latin words "O si sic omnes!"Meantime far up in the folds of the Santerre a little party was moving through the hot afternoon.The old Huguenot, shaken still by his rough handling, rode as if in a trance.Once he roused himself and asked about the monk.
"I hanged him like a mad dog," said Gaspard.
The minister shook his head."Violence will not cure violence.""Nay, but justice may follow crime.I am no Nicodemite.This day I have made public confession of my faith, and abide the consequences.From this day I am an exile from France so long as it pleases God to make His Church an anvil for the blows of His enemies.""I, too, am an exile," said the old man."If I come safe to Calais I shall take ship for Holland and find shelter with the brethren there.You have preserved my life for a few more years in my blaster's vineyard.
You say truly, young sir, that God's Church is now an anvil, but remember for your consolation that it is an anvil which has worn out many hammers."Late in the evening they came over a ridge and looked down on a shallow valley all green and gold in the last light.A slender river twined by alder and willow through the meadows.Gaspard reined in his horse and gazed on the place with a hand shading his eyes.
"I have slain a man to my hurt," he said."See, there are my new fishponds half made, and the herb garden, and the terrace that gets the morning sun.
There is the lawn which I called my quarter-deck, the place to walk of an evening.Farewell, my little grey dwelling."Champernoun laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.
"We will find you the mate of it in Devon, old friend," he said.
But Gaspard was not listening."Eaucourt by the waters," he repeated like the refrain of a song, and his eyes were full of tears.
