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Agnes Sorel

<h4>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h4> There was a great crowd in the court of the Hôtel d'Anjou--lackeys, and pages, and men-at-arms; but the court was a very large one, with covered galleries on either hand, and the number of retainers present was hardly seen. From time to time some great lord of the court arrived, and proceeded at once into the palace, leaving his followers to swell some of the little groups into which the whole body of the people assembled had arranged themselves. To one particular point the eyes of all present were most frequently directed, and it was only when one of the princes of the blood royal, the Dukes of Berri or Bourbon, or the King of Navarre arrived, that the mere spectators of the scene could divert their eyes from a spot where a young and handsome lad, who had not yet seen twenty years, stood in the midst of a group of the prévôt's; guard with fetters on his limbs. By half past three o'clock, several of the princes and the Royal Council had entered the building, and were conducted at once to a large hall on the ground floor, where every thing was dark and sombre as the occasion of the meeting. The ceiling was much lower than might have been expected in a chamber of such great size; but the decorations which it displayed were rich and costly, showing the rose, an ancient emblem of the house of Anjou, in red, and green, and gold, at the corner of every panel; for the ceiling, like the rest of the room, was covered with dark oak. The walls were richly embellished; but the want of light hid the greater part of the delicate carving, and scarcely allowed a secretary, seated at the table, to see the letters on the paper on which he was writing. Most of the members of the council had arrived; the Duke of Berri himself was present; but two very important personages had not yet appeared, namely, the Duke of Anjou (titular king of Sicily), and the Duke of Burgundy. The Duke of Berri, nevertheless, gave orders that the business of the day should proceed, while he sent a lackey to summon the Duke of Anjou; and very shortly after, that prince entered the room, inquiring, as he advanced to the table, if the prévôt; had yet arrived. "No, fair cousin," replied the Duke of Berri; "but we may as well get over the preliminaries. The facts attending the finding of the body must be read, in the first place." "I have read the whole of the procès verbal," replied the King of Sicily. "Go on--go on, I will be back immediately." The Duke of Berri seemed somewhat displeased to see his cousin quit the hall again; but the investigation proceeded. All the facts regarding the assassination of the Duke of Orleans which had been collected were read by the secretary from the papers before him; and when he had done, he added, "I find, my lords, that a young gentleman, the secretary of the late duke, who was not with him at the Hôtel Barbette, was arrested by one of her majesty's servants at the scene of the murder, in very suspicious circumstances, shortly after the crime was perpetrated. Is it your pleasure that he be brought before you?" "Assuredly," replied the Duke of Berri. "I have seen the young gentleman, and judged well of him. I can not think he had any share in this foul deed. Are there any of my poor nephew's household here who can testify concerning him?" "Several, your highness," answered the secretary. "They are in the ante-room." "Let them also be called in," said the Duke of Berri; and in a minute or two, Jean Charost, heavily ironed, was brought to the end of the table, and a number of the Duke of Orleans's officers, the jester, and the chaplain appeared behind them. The Duke of Berri gazed at the young man sternly; but with Jean Charost, the first feelings of grief, horror, and alarm had now given way to a sense of indignation at the suspicions entertained against him, and he returned the duke's glance firmly and unshrinkingly, with a look of manly confidence which sat well even upon his youthful features. "Well, young gentleman," said the Duke of Berri, at length, "what have you to say for yourself?" "In what respect, my lord?" asked Jean Charost, still keeping his eyes upon the duke; for the stare of all around was painful to him. "In answer to the charge brought against you," answered the Duke of Berri. "I know of no charge, your highness," answered Jean Charost. "I only know that while proceeding, according to the orders of my late beloved lord, to rejoin him at the Hôtel Barbette. I was seized by some men at one corner of the Rue Barbette, just as I was pausing to look at a house in flames, and at a crowd which I saw further down the street; that then, without almost any explanation, I was hurried to prison, and that this morning I have been brought hither, with these fetters on my limbs, which do not become an innocent French gentleman." "It is right you should near the charge," answered the duke. "Is the man who first apprehended him here present?" The tall, stout lackey of the queen, who had been the first to seize the young secretary's bridle, now bustled forward, full of his own importance, and related, not altogether without embellishment, his doings of the preceding night. He told how, on hearing from the flying servants of the Duke of Orleans that their lord had been attacked by armed men in the street, he had snatched up a halbert and run to his assistance; how he arrived too late, and then addressed himself to apprehend the murderers. He said that Jean Charost was not riding in any direction, but sitting on his horse quite still, as if he had been watching from a distance the deed just done; and that a gentleman of good repute, who had hastened, like himself, to give assistance, had pointed out the young secretary as one of the band of assassins, and even aided to apprehend him. He added various particulars of no great importance in regard to Jean Charost's manner and words, with the view of making out a case of strong suspicion against him. "You hear the charge," said the Duke of Berri, when the man had ended; "what have you to say?" "I might well answer nothing, your highness," replied Jean Charost; "for, so far as I can see, there is no charge against me, except that I checked my horse for an instant to look at a crowd and a house in flames. Nevertheless, if you will permit me, I will ask this man a question or two, as it may tend to bring some parts of this dark affair to light." "Ask what you please," answered the duke; and Jean Charost turned to the servant, and demanded, it must be confessed, in a sharp tone, "Was the man who pointed me out to you armed or unarmed?" "Completely armed, except the head," replied the lackey, looking a little confused. "What had he in his hand?" demanded Jean Charost. "A mace, I think," answered the man; "an iron mace." "Did he tell you how he came completely armed in the streets of Paris at that hour of the night?" asked Jean Charost. "He said he came forth at the cries," answered the servant. "How long may it take to arm a man completely, except the head?" asked the young gentleman. "I don't know," answered the servant; "I don't bear arms." "I do," answered Jean Charost; "and so do these noble lords; nor is it probable that a man could shuffle on his armor in time to be there on the spot so soon, unless he were well armed before. Now tell me, what was this man's name?" The man hesitated; but the Duke of Berri thundered from the head of the table, "Answer at once, sir. You have said he was a gentleman of good repute; you must therefore know him. What was his name?" "William of Courthose," answered the man; "the brother of the king's valet de chambre." "Where is he?" asked the Duke of Berri, so sternly, that the man became more and more alarmed, judging that his stupid activity might not prove so honorable to himself as he had expected. "I do not know rightly, your highness," he replied. "His brother told me to-day he had gone to Artois." There was a silence all through the room at this announcement. Jean Charost asked no more questions. Several of the council looked meaningly in each other's faces, and the Duke of Berri gazed thoughtfully down at the table. The chaplain of the late Duke of Orleans, however, and Seigneur André, his fool, moved round and got behind the prince's chair. The former bent his head, and said a few words in a low tone; and the duke instantly looked up, saying, "It seems, Monsieur De Brecy, that there was a quarrel between yourself and my unhappy nephew. You were heard speaking loud and angrily in his apartments; you left him half way to the Hôtel Barbette. Explain all this!" "There was no quarrel, my lord," replied Jean Charost; "there could be no quarrel between an humble man like myself and a prince of the blood royal. His highness reproved me for something I had done amiss, and his voice was certainly loud when he did so. He pardoned me, however, on my apology, took me with him on his way to the Hôtel Barbette, sent me to deliver a letter and receive an answer, and commanded me to rejoin him at her majesty's house, which I was on the way to do when I was arrested." "What was the cause of his reproving you?" asked the Duke of Berri; "to whom did he send you with a letter, and where did you pass the time from the moment you left him to the moment of your arrest? You had better, Monsieur De Brecy, give a full account of your whole conduct from the time of your arrival in Paris till the time of your apprehension." Jean Charost looked down thoughtfully, and his countenance changed. To betray the secrets of the dead, to plant a fresh thorn in the heart of the Duchess of Orleans, already torn, as it must be, to explain how and why he had hesitated to obey his lord's commands, was what he would fain escape from at almost any risk; and his confidence in his own innocence made him believe that his refusal could do him no material damage. "It will be better for yourself, sir, to be frank and candid," said the Duke of Berri; "a few words may clear you of all suspicion." "I doubt it not, your highness," replied Jean Charost; "for as yet I see no cause for any. Were I myself alone concerned, I would willingly and at once state every act of my own and every word I uttered; but, my lord, in so doing, I should be obliged to give also the acts and words of my noble master. They were spoken to me in confidence, as between a frank and generous prince and his secretary. He is dead; but that absolves me not from the faithful discharge of my duty toward him. What he confided to me--whither he sent me--nay, even more, the very cause of his reproving me, which involves some part of his own private affairs, I will never disclose, be the consequence what it may; and I do trust that noble princes and honorable gentlemen will not require an humble secretary, as I am, to betray the secrets of his lord." "You are bound, sir, by the law, to answer truly any questions that the king's council may demand of you," said the King of Navarre, sternly; "if not, we can compel you." "I think not, my lord," replied Jean Charost; "I know of no means which can compel an honorable man to violate a sacred duty." "Ha, ha!" shouted Seigneur André; "he does not know of certain bird-cages we have in France to make unwilling warblers sing. Methinks one screw of the rack would soon make the pretty creature open its bill." "I think so too," said the King of Navarre, setting his teeth, and not at all well pleased with Jean Charost's reply. "We give you one more chance, sir; will you, or will you not, answer the Duke of Berri's questions? If not, we must try the extent of your obstinacy." As he spoke he beckoned up to him the prévôt; of Paris, who had entered the hall a few minutes before, and spoke to him something in a whisper; to which the other replied, "Oh yes, sir, in the other chamber; the screw will do; it has often more power than the rack." In the mean time, a struggle had been going on in the breast of Jean Charost. It is often very dangerous to commit one's self by words to a certain course of action. So long as we keep a debate with ourselves within the secret council-chamber of our own bosom, we feel no hesitation in retracting an ill-formed opinion or a rash resolution; but when we have called our fellow-creatures to witness our thoughts or our determinations, the great primeval sin of pride puts a barrier in our way, and often prevents us going back, even when we could do so with honor. Jean Charost was as faulty as the rest of our race, and perhaps it would be too much to say that pride had no share in strengthening his resolution; but, after a short pause, he replied, "My lord, the Duke of Berri, take it not ill of me, I beg your highness, that I say any questions simply regarding myself I will answer truly and at once; but none in any way affecting the private affairs of my late royal master will I answer at all." "We can not suffer our authority to be set at naught," said the Duke of Berri, gravely; and the King of Navarre, turning with a heavy frown to the prévôt, exclaimed, "Remove him, Monsieur Tignonville, and make him answer." Jean Charost turned very pale, but he said nothing; and two of the prévôt's; men laid their hands upon him, and drew him from the end of the table. At the same moment, however, another young man started forward, with his face all in a glow, exclaiming, "Oh, my lords, my lords! for pity's sake, for your own honor's sake, forbear! He is as noble and as faithful a lad as ever lived--well-beloved of the prince whom we all mourn. Think you that he, who will suffer torture rather than betray his lord's secrets, would conspire his death?" "It may be his own secrets he will not reveal," said the Duke of Berri. "Meddle not with what does not concern you," cried the King of Navarre, sternly. But Jean Charost turned his head as they were taking him from the room, and exclaimed, "Thank you, De Royans--thank you! That is noble and just." He was scarcely removed when the Duke of Burgundy entered by the great entrance, and the King of Sicily by a small door behind the Duke of Berri. The former was alone, but the latter was followed by several of the officers of his household, and in the midst of them appeared a young girl, leaning on the arm of an elder woman dressed as a superior servant. "I heard that Monsieur De Brecy was under examination," said Louis of Anjou, looking round, "accused of being accessory to the murder. Is he not here?" "He has retired with a friend," said Seigneur André, who thought it his privilege to intermeddle with all conversation. "The truth is, fair cousin," answered the King of Navarre, "we have found him a very obstinate personage to deal with, setting at naught the authority of the council, and refusing to answer the questions propounded to him. We have therefore been compelled to employ means which usually make recusants answer." "Good God! I hope not," exclaimed the Duke of Anjou. "Here is a young lady who can testify something in his favor." He turned as he spoke toward the young girl who had followed him into the hall, and who has more than once appeared upon the scene already. She was deadly pale, but those energies which afterward saved France failed her not now. She loosed her hold of the old servant's arm, on which she had been leaning, took a step forward, and, with her hands clasped, exclaimed, "In God's name, mighty princes, forbear! Send a messenger, if you would save your own peace, and countermand your terrible order. I know not why you have doomed an innocent man to torture, but right sure I am that somehow he has brought such an infliction on his head by honesty, and not by crime; by keeping his faith, not by breaking it." "They are made for each other," said the King of Navarre, coldly. "They both speak in the same tone. Who is she, cousin of Sicily?" "Mademoiselle De St. Geran--Agnes Sorel," answered the Duke of Anjou, in a low tone. "One of the maids of honor to my wife." But Agnes took no notice of their half-heard colloquy, and, turning at once with quick decision and infinite grace toward the Duke of Burgundy, who sat with his head leaning on his hand, and his eyes fixed upon the table, she exclaimed, "My lord the Duke of Burgundy, I beseech you to interfere. You know this young man--you know he is faithful and true--you know he refused to betray the secret of his lord, even at your command, and dared your utmost anger. You know he is not guilty." "I do," said the Duke of Burgundy, rising, and speaking in a hoarse, hollow tone. "My lords, he is not guilty--I am sure. Suspend your order, I beseech you. Send off to the Châtelet, and let him--" A deep groan, which seemed almost a suppressed cry, appeared to proceed from a door half way down the hall, and swell through the room, like the note of an organ. "He is not far off, as you may hear," said the King of Navarre, with an indifferent manner. "Tell them to stop, if you please, fair cousin." The Duke of Burgundy had waited to ask no permission, but was already striding toward the door. He threw it sharply open, and entered a small room having no exit, except through the hall; but he paused, without speaking, for a moment, although before his eyes lay poor Jean Charost strapped down upon a sort of iron bedstead, and one of the prévôt's; men stood actually turning a wheel at the head, which elongated the whole frame, and threatened to tear the unfortunate sufferer to pieces. For an instant, the duke continued to gaze in silence, as if desirous of seeing how much the unhappy young man could bear. But Jean Charost uttered not a word. That one groan of agony had burst from him on first feeling the peine forte et dure. But now his resolution seemed to have triumphed over human weakness, and, with his teeth shut and his eyes closed, he lay and suffered without a cry. "Hold!" exclaimed the duke, at length. "Hold, Messire Prévôt. Unbind the young man. He is not guilty!" The duke then slowly moved toward the door, and closed it sharply, while Jean Charost was removed from his terrible couch, and a little water given him to drink. He sat up, and leaned his head upon his hand, with his eyes still closed, and not even seeming to see who had come to deliver him. The prévôt's; men approached, and attempted, somewhat rudely, to place upon him his coat and vest, which had been taken off to apply the torture. "Patience--patience, for a moment!" he said. In the mean while, the Duke of Burgundy had approached close to him, and stood gazing at him with his arms crossed on his broad chest. "Can you speak, young man?" he said, at length. Jean Charost inclined his head a little further. "What was it you refused to tell the council?" asked the duke. "Where the Duke of Orleans sent me last night," answered the young man, faintly. "Faithful and true, indeed!" said the Duke of Burgundy; and then, laying his broad hand upon the youth's aching shoulder, he said, in a low tone, "If you seek new service, De Brecy, join me at Mons in a week. I will raise you to high honor; and remember--this you have suffered was not my doing. I came to deliver you. Now bring him in, prévôt, as soon as he can bear it." When the duke returned to the hall, he found Agnes Sorel standing by the side of the Duke of Berri, although a chair had been placed for her by one of the gentlemen near; for in those days there was the brilliant stamp of chivalrous courtesy on all French gentlemen, in external things at least, though since blotted out by the blood of Lamballe and Marie Antoinette. "Your testimony as to his general character and uprightness, my fair young lady," said the Duke of Berri, in a kindly tone, "will have the weight that it deserves with the council, but we must have something more definite here. We find that he was absent more than an hour from the duke's suite, when my poor nephew had ordered him to rejoin him immediately, and that this fearful assassination was committed during that period. He refuses to answer as to where he was, or what he was doing during that time. We will put the question to him again," he continued, looking toward the door at which Jean Charost now appeared, supported by two of the prévôt's; men, and followed by that officer himself. "Has he made any answer, Monsieur De Tignonville?" "Not a word, your highness," replied the prévôt. "Noble lad!" said Agnes Sorel, in a low voice, as if to herself; and then continued, raising her tone, "My lord the duke, I will tell you where he was, and what he was doing." The Duke of Burgundy started, and looked suddenly up; but Agnes went on. "Although there be some men to whose characters certain acts are so repugnant that to suppose them guilty of them would be to suppose an impossibility, and though I and the mighty prince there opposite can bear witness that such is the case even in this instance, yet, lest he should bring himself into danger by his faithfulness, I will tell you what he will not speak, for I am bound by no duty to refrain. He was at the house of Madame De Giac, sent thither with a note by the Duke of Orleans. She told me so herself this morning, and lamented that a foolish trick she caused her servants to play him--merely to see how he, in his inexperience, would escape from a difficulty--had prevented him from rejoining his princely master, though, as she justly said, her idle jest had most likely saved the young man's life." "Skillfully turned," muttered the Duke of Burgundy between his teeth, and he looked up with a relieved expression of countenance. "If my lords doubt me," continued the young girl, "let them send for Madame De Giac herself." "Nay, nay, we doubt you not," said the Duke of Burgundy; "and so sure am I of the poor lad's innocence--although he offended me somewhat at Pithiviers--that I propose he should be instantly liberated, and allowed to retire." "Open the door, but first clip the bird's wings," said Seigneur André. "He won't fly far, I fancy, after the trimming he has had." The proposal of the Duke of Burgundy, however, was at once acceded to; and Louis of Anjou, whose heart was a kindly one, notwithstanding some failings, leaned across the table toward Agnes Sorel, saying, "Take him with you, pretty maid, and try what you and the rest can do to comfort him till I come." Agnes frankly held out her hand to Jean Charost, saying, "Come, Monsieur De Brecy, you need rest and refreshment. Come; you shall have the sweetest music you have ever heard to cheer you, and may have to thank the musician too." With feeble and wavering steps, the young gentleman followed her from the room; and the moment the door was closed behind them, the King of Sicily turned to the prévôt, saying, "This young man is clearly innocent, Monsieur De Tignonville. Do you not think so?" "I have never thought otherwise, my lord," replied the prévôt. "Well, then, sir," said the Duke of Berri, "you have doubtless used all diligence, as we commanded this morning, to trace out those who have committed so horrible a crime as the assassination of the king's own brother." "All diligence have I used, noble lords and mighty princes," said De Tignonville, advancing to the edge of the table, and speaking in a peculiarly stern and resolute tone of voice; "but I have yet apprehended none of the assassins or their accomplices. Nevertheless, such information have I received as leads me to feel sure that I shall be able to place them before you ere many hours are over, if you will give me the authority of the council to enter and examine the houses of all the servants of the king and those of the princes--even of the blood royal; which, as you know, is beyond my power without your especial sanction." "Most assuredly," replied the King of Sicily. "Begin with mine, if you please. Search it from top to bottom. There are none of us here who would stand upon a privilege that might conceal the murderer of Louis of Orleans." "There can be no objection," said the Duke of Berri. "Search mine, when you please, Monsieur le Prévôt." "And mine," said the Duke of Bourbon. "And mine--and mine," said several of the lords of the council. The Duke of Burgundy said nothing; but sat at the table, with his face pale, and his somewhat harsh features sharpened, though motionless. At length he started up from the table, and exclaimed, in a sharp, quick tone, "Come hither, Sicily--come hither, my fair uncle of Berri. I would I speak a word with you;" and he strode toward the great door, followed by the two princes whom he had selected. Between the great door and that of an outer hall was a small vestibule, with a narrow stair-case on one side, on the lower steps of which some attendants were sitting, when the duke appeared suddenly among them. "Avoid!" he said, in a tone so loud and harsh as to scatter them at once like a flock of frightened sheep. He then closed both the doors, looked up the stair-case, and drew the Duke of Berri toward him, whispering something in his ear in a low tone. The venerable prince started back, and gazed at him with a look of horror. "It was a suggestion of the great enemy," said Burgundy, "and I yielded." "What does he say--what does he say?" exclaimed the King of Sicily. "That he--he ordered the assassination," answered the Duke of Berri, in a sad and solemn tone. "I have lost two nephews in one night!" The Duke of Anjou drew back with no less horror in his face than that which had marked the countenance of the Duke of Berri; but he gave more vehement way to the feeling of reprobation which possessed him, expressing plainly his grief and indignation. He was brief, however, and soon laid his hand upon the lock to open the door of the council-chamber again. "Stay, stay, Louis," said the Duke of Berri. "Let us say nothing of this terrible truth till we have well considered what is to be done." "Done!" repeated the Duke of Burgundy, gazing at them both with a look of stern surprise, as if he had fully expected that his acknowledgment of the deed was to make it pass uninvestigated and unpunished; and passing between his two relations, he too approached the door as if to go in. But the Duke of Berri barred the way. "Go not into the council, fair nephew," he said. "It would not please me, nor any other person there, to have you among us now." The Duke of Burgundy gave him one glance, but answered nothing; and, passing through the opposite door and the outer hall, mounted his horse and rode away, followed by his train. "Let us break up the council, Louis," said the Duke of Berri, "and summon it for to-morrow morning. I will hie me home, and give the next hours to silent thought and prayer. You do the same; and let us meet to-morrow before the council reassembles." "My thoughts are all confused," said the King of Sicily. "Is it a dream, noble kinsman--a bloody and terrible dream? Well, go you in. I dare not go with you. I should discover all. Say I am sick--God knows it is true--sick, very sick at heart." Thus saying, he turned toward the stair-case, and while the Duke of Berri returned to those he had left, and broke up the council abruptly, the other prince proceeded slowly and gloomily toward his wife's apartments. When he reached the top of the stairs, however, and opened the door at which they terminated, a strain of the most exquisite music met his ear, sweet, slow, and plaintive, but yet not altogether melancholy. Oh, how inharmonious can music sometimes be to the spirits even of those who love it best! <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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