Beauvallet (32 page)

There was no sound behind the shuttered windows, nor any light discernible. The place seemed to be strangely quiet, or else this side of the house was not much inhabited. Sir Nicholas stole along until he stood beneath the one unshuttered window. Flattening himself against the wall, he peeped cautiously in.

The window stood wide to the cool evening air; the room seemed to be a sort of winter parlour, very elegantly furnished. In a chair half-turned from the window sat Dona Beatrice de Carvalho, reading from a gilt-bound volume.

Sir Nicholas considered her for a moment. Then with a little shrug of fatalism he set his hands on the sill and noiselessly swung one leg over.

Dona Beatrice, yawning over her book, heard a tiny sound, the click of a scabbard against the stone wall. She turned her head towards the window, and for once was startled out of her composure. She let fall her book.

‘I give you a thousand good-morrows, señora,’ said Sir Nicholas pleasantly, and came gracefully into the room.

Dona Beatrice recovered herself. ‘My dear Chevalier!’ she drawled. ‘Or should I say my dear Señor Beauvallet?’

‘But were you in doubt?’ said Sir Nicholas, one eyebrow up.

‘Very little,’ she said. She lay back in her chair, placidly regarding him. ‘You are a remarkably bold man, señor. I protest I like you. But what do you hope for here?’

‘To be frank with you, señora, I am here to carry off your niece,’ said Sir Nicholas. He walked to the door, opened it, and looked out into the passage. There was no sign of anyone
stirring. He shut the door, and came back into the room. ‘And if your charming son is at hand I shall be happy to cross swords with him,’ he added.

She gave a low laugh of pure enjoyment. ‘You are delightful,’ she assured him. ‘But do you think I shall sit quiet while you perform these deeds?’

He smiled disarmingly. ‘Why, as to that, señora, I am afraid I shall have to use you rather roughly,’ he said. ‘It is not my custom to war with women, and I should be loth to have you think me a brutal fellow, but I fear I shall have to tie you up and gag you.’ The smile grew. ‘Be at ease, I shall not hurt you.’

She was perfectly at her ease. ‘Holy Virgin, a desperate man, I see! What possessed you to come in at this window, Señor Beauvallet?’

‘It was the only one that stood open,’ he replied lightly.

‘You might have chanced on my son, señor, instead of me.’

‘I had rather hoped that I might,’ agreed Sir Nicholas. ‘I am out of luck.’

Her eyelids drooped. ‘Yes, señor, you are out of luck; more so than you know,’ she said.

‘Am I so, señora?’ The blue eyes were watchful now.

‘Sadly, I fear. You will have to be content to talk to me. I confess I could not have hit upon a more entrancing way of spending this tedious evening. You see, I am alone in the house but for my servants.’

‘You astonish me, señora,’ said Sir Nicholas, politely incredulous.

‘Pray you search the house if it will set your mind at rest,’ she invited. ‘I am a creature quite without guile. This is a most amusing situation, do you not find?’

Sir Nicholas sat down on the edge of a small table near at hand. He began to play with his pomander, but his eyes never left the lady's face for all they were so careless-seeming. ‘It is unexpected,’ he admitted. ‘But then, as you no doubt know,
señora, my genius lies in dealing with the unexpected. Where, dear lady, has your son taken Dona Dominica?’

She was prepared for that. ‘Rather, señor, he has gone in search of her. Yesterday, not ten miles from here, our equipage was set upon by brigands, and my niece carried off.’

‘Brigands is exactly the word I should myself have chosen,’ nodded Sir Nicholas, dangerously sweet. ‘I understand now why you are in so much agitation, señora. A grievous thing to have your cherished niece carried off.’ His voice changed; he let fall his pomander, and Dona Beatrice saw that the laughing eyes were like twin swords. ‘Come, señora!’ he said briskly. ‘Give me credit for some little measure of wit! Where has he taken her?’

‘My dear Señor Beauvallet, if he had taken her you would surely not expect me to tell you,’ she pointed out.

Sir Nicholas’ brain was working swiftly now. ‘I think you have told me all I need to know,’ he said. ‘There is a certain hunting-lodge not five miles from here, is there not?’

The faintest shade of alarm, or perhaps it was only of annoyance, crossed her face. It was enough for Sir Nicholas, watching like a hawk. ‘My thanks, señora.’ He stood up. There was no smile in his eyes now; they were blazing, and the fine mouth was set hard.

‘You know more than I do, señor,’ she shrugged.

He stood looking down at her for a moment; she gave a little laugh, and looked away. ‘I know,’ said Sir Nicholas softly, ‘that I shall have rid the earth of a very knave when I rid it of Don Diego de Carvalho. As for you, señora –’ He broke off, and threw up his head, intently listening. The sound of horses, approaching fast, was heard. He took a quick step forward, and before she could move had a hand hard clamped over Dona Beatrice's mouth, the other gripping her shoulder. There was a sound of trampling round at the front of the house, and at that moment Joshua's alarmed face peeped over the window-sill.

The black brows lifted interrogatively.

‘Master, master, King's men!’ whispered Joshua.

He nodded briefly. ‘Rip me up your cloak. Quick, man!’ His hand left Dona Beatrice's shoulder, and flicked the handkerchief from the sleeve of his doublet. Without ceremony he forced it into the lady's mouth. Not afraid, but cynical still, she was able to admire in a detached way his coolness, and to reflect that she could hardly recognise him now for the same man who had ruffled it so gaily in Madrid. He had a ruthless look now; there would be quick death for any who crossed his path tonight.

Joshua threw his torn cloak into the room. A thunder of knocks on the front door in the distance set him shivering again. ‘For God's sake, master – !’

Sir Nicholas answered never a word. With swift, sure movements he twisted one of the strips of cloth tightly round Dona Beatrice's gagged mouth, and tied it. Another encircled her body, pinning her arms to her sides. She made no resistance; over the bandage her eyes looked mockingly. If the King's men were at hand now El Beauvallet was doomed.

There was a hurry of footsteps in the passage, servants were running to the front door. Sir Nicholas bent, passed the third strip round the lady's wide skirts, and hobbled her tightly.

‘In the King's name!’ The peremptory voice reached the parlour; evidently the front door was open now.

Sir Nicholas smiled grimly. ‘Now, señora!’ he said, and lifted her up bodily. She was no light weight, but he carried her easily to the window. Her eyes no longer mocked; they looked startled now, for this was indeed the unexpected.

‘Take the lady!’ said Sir Nicholas, and lowered her into Joshua's arms.

‘Beshrew your heart, master!’ whispered Joshua, staggering under the burden. ‘Are you mad in very sooth? Come away, sir! For the love of God come swiftly!’

‘I come,’ said Sir Nicholas, and climbed lightly over the sill. He dropped to the ground, lifted his prisoner from Joshua's straining arms, and carried her off over his shoulder across the dark pleasance to the low wall, and the spinney beyond.

‘We are sped! we are sped!’ almost moaned Joshua. ‘And you lug the wrong lady off with us! What now, master? Whither?’

‘To that hunting-lodge,’ said Sir Nicholas through his teeth. ‘We shall leave the wrong lady in the spinney. I do not think they will look for her there in a hurry.’ He dumped Dona Beatrice down on the wall, climbed over, and lifted her up again. She was carried to the thicket where the horses stood, and set down in the middle of it. Sir Nicholas untied his horse and gathered the bridle in his hand. A moment he looked down at Dona Beatrice, glaring up at him. ‘Señora,’ he said, ‘do not repine at the discomfort of your situation. Had you been a man I should have killed you.’

Twenty-three

T
he track through the forest was found, and Beauvallet's horse leaped forward under the spur. Joshua, pressing up close, looked anxiously into his master's grimly smiling face. ‘Master, what is it?’ he said fearfully.

‘Don Diego has had my lady shut up in the lodge since yesterday,’ said Sir Nicholas curtly.

Joshua's jaw dropped. He could understand now why Sir Nicholas wore his killing look. This was ill news; the very worst that could have befallen. His stupefaction passed; righteous wrath sprang up. ‘Ah, villain! ah, crack-hemp! If we slit not your weasand for this!’

They galloped on down the track. To either side the great trees reared up, ghostly in the darkness. The road was good, a grassy ride cut through the woods. ‘Well for us it was, for we did not pick our way daintily, look you,’ says Joshua.

Sir Nicholas caught his horse up on a stumble, and turned his head. ‘Hard-pressed now, my Joshua,’ he said, and shook the sword in his scabbard slightly.

‘In my opinion, master, there is naught new in that,’ said Joshua philosophically.

‘How many men, by your reckoning?’

‘Enough to do our business,’ said Joshua dryly. ‘But having
dumped the fat lady in the spinney – I allow it to have been politic, upon reflection – and so shut her mouth, we may yet win clear away.’

‘I don’t think it,’ said Sir Nicholas calmly. ‘They may waste time in searching for her, but if I read this villainy aright every hilding on the estate will know where Dona Dominica lies, and send the guards hotfoot after me there.’

Joshua spoke in a voice of alarm. ‘Save you, master, save you! do you lose heart? For if that is so at last then I know we are shent.’

The answering laugh reassured him. ‘Oh chewet, do you not know when I am in a fighting humour?’

‘I should indeed, sir,’ acknowledged Joshua. ‘I make bold to say I find you dangerous at this present. There will be broken heads and slit gullets yet.’

They rode on in silence, stirrup to stirrup. Presently Beauvallet spoke again. ‘I may have to lead the chase astray a little,’ he said. ‘Do you ride off with my lady by the north-west road to Villanova, and there await me. You mark me?’

‘Master, do you tell me to desert you?’ said Joshua, offended. ‘That is not very likely.’

He caught the well-known gleam in Beauvallet's eye. ‘Oho!’ said Sir Nicholas softly. ‘Do you command here, my friend? Now I think you will do as I say, or it may be the worse for you.’

‘Pretty treatment, master, by my troth!’ said Joshua. ‘Well, go to: I do not deny you are the General.’

‘If we are overtaken,’ said Sir Nicholas, ignoring this stricture upon his ruthless methods, ‘as I have little doubt we shall be, ride with my lady hotfoot to Villanova, and there await me. Is it understood?’

‘Well, master, well. And if you come not?’

‘By this hand I shall come!’ said Beauvallet. ‘What, do you
fear for me? Know then that I was never more in the mood to try a throw with death.’

‘That I may very easily believe, sir, and I may add that it does not set me the more at ease,’ said Joshua. He peered ahead and reined in to a walk. ‘Softly, now! What's here?’

A house loomed up ahead, approached by a wicket-gate giving on to the track. There was a low building some three hundred yards farther on: stables, Joshua guessed.

Sir Nicholas slipped from the saddle, and twitched the bridle over the horse's head. ‘This should be the place. Follow me now.’ He led the way off the track into the gloom of the forest. The moss-grown floor muffled the sound of the horses’ hooves; they skirted the house, and came round to the back of it, under cover of the trees. The horses were swiftly tethered to a young sapling. Sir Nicholas unbuckled his sword-belt, and drew the shining blade clear of its sheath. ‘No need to take this to hamper me,’ he said, and left the scabbard on the ground. He scanned the back of the house, and saw a lighted window on the upper storey. ‘Aha, my bird, do you lie there?’ he said. ‘We shall see anon. Now I am for you, Don Diego de Carvalho!’

They went quickly round to the front of the house. Joshua had his long dagger out, and followed silently in Beauvallet's grim wake. Sir Nicholas went boldly now, the naked sword in his hand, and hammered on the door of the lodge with its chased hilt.

‘God's my life, we stalk on our fate now!’ muttered Joshua, aghast at these high-handed measures.

They heard footsteps approaching inside the house, rather hesitantly. Sir Nicholas beat again on the door, an imperative summons, and Joshua took a firmer hold on his weapon.

The footsteps came nearer; the door was opened a few inches, and Luis, the valet, looked out. ‘Who knocks? What do you want?’

Joshua's arm slid lovingly round his neck; the point of his
dagger pricked the man's throat. ‘Nay then, my cosset, no sound out of you, or you are sped,’ he said softly.

The man's eyes stared at him, his lips moved soundlessly.

‘Truss him up,’ said Sir Nicholas, and passed into the lodge.

There were candles in sconces upon the walls; the stairs ran up to one side, to the other a door opened hastily. Don Diego came out, a snatched-up sword in his hand, a look of quick alarm in his face. ‘Let none enter!’ he said sharply, and then started back. ‘Jesu!’ he gasped, blanched and shaking. His eyes were wide and staring, looking fearfully. In the doorway stood El Beauvallet, tall and straight, fiendishly smiling, like avenging doom wafted thither by most dreadful witchcraft.