_ CHAPTER THIRTY. BEARDING A LION
The King walked swiftly on in the direction of that portion of the castle where he had lodged his guest, the polished oak boards of the floor resounding beneath his heavy tread, while the chamberlain heard him keep muttering to himself as he went, till he reached a portion where a couple of officers stood on duty by a heavy door, ready to challenge them; but seeing in the half darkness who their visitors were, they drew back saluting, and opened the doors to allow them to pass.
"Your Majesty," said the chamberlain, in a low tone, as they began passing down an inner passage, and Henry read in his voice a protest against the action he was taking.
"Have done with your scruples," he said. "I am not going to assassinate Francis, or even do him ill, only to make sure." And he proceeded on his way, motioning to another officer, who came forward and saluted, to resume his post.
Turning at right angles, and going some distance further on, the King stopped again.
"It should be here," he said quietly, and he moved towards a wide arched door, but drew back suddenly, for a figure emerged from the shadow into the full light, naked sword in hand.
"You cannot pass," said the sentry.
"Who are you?" said Henry.
"A follower of the noble Comte de la Seine," was the reply.
"And he mounts guards at his chamber door?" said the King haughtily.
"Yes; but by what right do you come here and question me?"
Henry advanced into the light of a lamp overhead, and threw back his robe.
"I have the right," he said.
Denis drew back, but only a step.
"The King!" he murmured. "The King!"
Henry nodded quickly.
"You know me? Good. I have another word I wish to say to your master to-night."
"Sire," said Denis, dropping on one knee, "it is impossible."
"Impossible!" thundered the King.
"Impossible, Sire."
"Impossible! To me! In to your master at once, and tell him I have words to say to him to-night. By Heaven, it is an honour I do him, I think!"
"But, Sire--" cried Denis, who still barred the way.
"You heard me, boy?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Then--obey!"
"I regret to repeat to your Majesty that I cannot."
"Cannot!"
"No, Sire."
The King burst into a harsh laugh, and turning to the chamberlain, pointed angrily at the boy, before facing him again frowningly.
"Stand back, boy, and let me pass."
"I regret, your Majesty. Order me to do something else far more difficult--I would cheerfully obey your commands."
"But I have nothing else which I wish you to do--only this. Let me pass."
"No, Sire."
"Boy, it is the first time in my recollection that I have been refused obedience. Why do you stay me?"
"My master, Sire, has ordered me to keep strict guard here."
"Hurst, what am I to do to this obstinate fool?"
The chamberlain stepped forward.
"Boy," he said, "it is from sheer ignorance that you place yourself in such a position of danger. Sheathe your sword at once, sir, and let his Majesty pass. Do you not know that there are guards here at every turn? My royal master's guests will be well protected without your aid."
Denis stood motionless, and made no attempt to stir.
"Do you hear, sirrah!" roared the King. "I am in no humour to wait longer. Stand back."
This was too much for the determination of the young esquire. It was a king who spoke, and drawing back slightly, he yielded to circumstances, feeling that his puny efforts were in vain, and guarding the door no longer, he thrust his sword back into its scabbard and stood aside.
"Ah!" cried the King, growing mollified upon seeing himself obeyed, and looking admiringly at the lad. "Not bad, Hurst, for a mere boy," he said. "May I always be as well served by followers of mine. There," he continued, stepping forward towards the door, and looking back at Denis, "you can follow me, and I will make your peace with your lord, for I am master here."
He tapped sharply at the panel of the door with the hilt of his sword, and Denis heard him breathing heavily as if after some great exertion; but there was no reply, and he tapped again, with the same negative result. Then with an angry snort he said mockingly:
"Our young esquire seems to have reason on his side, and the Comte must be asleep. Am I to leave him to his slumbers, Hurst? But maybe he will sleep the better after awakening and hearing all I have to say. Open the door, Hurst. Bah! I need no help for this." And, brushing by the chamberlain, he noisily raised the latch, thrust open the door, and entered the room.
It was the ante-chamber, with the couple of candles burning on the mantel. The richly embroidered cloak lay upon the couch where it had been hurriedly thrown, and the valise lay ready packed and strapped.
The King's eyes flashed as the valise caught his eye, and crossing the room quickly he made for the door of the sleeping chamber, which was ajar.
There was no pause to ask for entrance here, for now fully roused, the King thrust open the door, with the light from behind him falling fall upon the unpressed bed.
"Hah! What I expected," cried the King angrily. "This way, Hurst. There is mystery and trickery here."
As he was speaking the clock from one of the turrets was chiming loudly, the sounds of the bells seeming to quiver in the still air and mingle with the faint strains from the room where the dancing was still going on.
The chamberlain rushed forward, looked sharply round, and made for the casement; but it was closed and fastened inside.
"The boy on guard, Sire, and no one here!" cried the chamberlain. "I do not understand."
"Nor I," cried the King; "but we will, and that right soon." Then making for the door, which had fallen back as the chamberlain entered, he dragged it open, crying angrily, "Boy, your master is not sleeping here. Where is he? What have you to say? Ha!" he roared, like the angry lion he had described himself to be. "Quick, Hurst! Our guards! The boy has gone!" _