Such was the inference of Le Glorieux, when, in consequence of the reconciliation of which we gave the particulars in the last Chapter, the Burgundian guards were withdrawn from the Castle of Peronne, the abode of the King removed from the ominous Tower of Count Herbert, and, to the great joy both of French and Burgundians, an outward show at least of confidence and friendship seemed so established between Duke Charles and his liege lord. Yet still the latter, though treated with ceremonial observance, was sufficiently aware that he continued to be the object of suspicion, though he prudently affected to overlook it, and appeared to consider himself as entirely at his ease.
Meanwhile, as frequently happens in such cases, whilst the principal parties concerned had so far made up their differences, one of the subaltern agents concerned in their intrigues was bitterly experiencing the truth of the political maxim, that if the great have frequent need of base tools, they make amends to society by abandoning them to their fate, so soon as they find them no longer useful.
This was Hayraddin Maugrabin, who, surrendered by the Duke's officers to the King's Provost-Marshal, was by him placed in the hands of his two trusty aides-de-camp, Trois-Eschelles and Petit-André, to be dispatched without loss of time. One on either side of him, and followed by a few guards and a multitude of rabble, – this playing the Allegro, that the Penseroso, – he was marched off (to use a modern comparison, like Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy) to the neighbouring forest; where, to save all further trouble and ceremonial of a gibbet, and so forth, the disposers of his fate proposed to knit him up to the first sufficient tree.
They were not long in finding an oak, as Petit-André facetiously expressed it, fit to bear such an acorn; and placing the wretched criminal on a bank, under a sufficient guard, they began their extemporaneous preparations for the final catastrophe. At that moment, Hayraddin, gazing on the crowd, encountered the eyes of Quentin Durward, who, thinking he recognised the countenance of his faithless guide in that of the detected impostor, had followed with the crowd to witness the execution, and assure himself of the identity.
When the executioners informed him that all was ready, Hayraddin, with much calmness, asked a single boon at their hands.
"Any thing, my son, consistent with our office," said Trois-Eschelles.
"That is," said Hayraddin, "any thing but my life."
"Even so," said Trois-Eschelles, "and something more; for as you seem resolved to do credit to our mystery, and die like a man, without making wry mouths – why, though our orders are to be prompt, I care not if I indulge you ten minutes longer."
"You are even too generous," said Hayraddin.
"Truly we may be blamed for it," said Petit-André; "but what of that? – I could consent almost to give my life for such a jerry-come-tumble, such a smart, tight, firm lad, who proposes to come from aloft with a grace, as an honest fellow should do."
"Neither, my good, kind, and most expeditious friends," said the Bohemian – "I only pray to speak a few minutes with yonder Archer of the Scottish Guard."
The executioners hesitated a moment; but Trois-Eschelles recollecting that Quentin Durward was believed, from various circumstances, to stand high in the favour of their master, King Louis, they resolved to permit the interview.
When Quentin, at their summons, approached the condemned criminal, he could not but be shocked at his appearance, however justly his doom might have been deserved. The remnants of his heraldic finery, rent to tatters by the fangs of the dogs, and the clutches of the bipeds who had rescued him from their fury to lead him to the gallows, gave him at once a ludicrous and a wretched appearance. His face was discoloured with paint, and with some remnants of a fictitious beard, assumed for the purpose of disguise, and there was the paleness of death upon his cheek and upon his lip; yet, strong in passive courage, like most of his tribe, his eye, while it glistened and wandered, as well as the contorted smile of his mouth, seemed to bid defiance to the death he was about to die.
Quentin was struck partly with horror, partly with compassion, as he approached the miserable man, and these feelings probably betrayed themselves in his manner, for Petit-André called out, "Trip it more smartly, jolly Archer – This gentleman's leisure cannot wait for you, if you walk as if the pebbles were eggs, and you afraid of breaking them."
"I must speak with him in privacy," said the criminal, despair seeming to croak in his accent as he uttered the words.
"That may hardly consist with our office, my merry Leap-the-ladder," said Petit-André; "we know you for a slippery eel of old."
"I am tied with your horse-girths, hand and foot," said the criminal – "You may keep guard around me, though out of ear-shot – the Archer is your own King's servant – And if I give you ten gilders" –
"Laid out in masses, the sum may profit his poor soul," said Trois-Eschelles.
"Laid out in wine or brantwein, it will comfort my poor body," responded Petit-André. "So let them be forthcoming, my little crack-rope."
"Pay the blood-hounds their fee," said Hayraddin to Durward; "I was plundered of every stiver when they took me – it shall avail thee much."
Quentin paid the executioners their guerdon, and, like men of promise, they retreated out of hearing – keeping, however, a careful eye on the criminal's motions. After waiting an instant till the unhappy man should speak, as he still remained silent, Quentin at length addressed him, "And to this conclusion thou hast at length arrived?"
"Ay," answered Hayraddin, "it required neither astrologer, nor physiognomist, nor chiromantist, to foretell that I should follow the destiny of my family."
"Brought to this early end by thy long course of crime and treachery!" said the Scot.
"No, by the bright Aldeboran and all his brother twinklers!" answered the Bohemian. "I am brought hither by my folly, in believing that the bloodthirsty cruelty of a Frank could be restrained even by what they themselves profess to hold most sacred. A priest's vestment would have been no safer garb for me than a herald's tabard, however sanctimonious are your professions of devotion and chivalry."
"A detected impostor has no right to claim the immunities of the disguise he had usurped," said Durward.
"Detected!" said the Bohemian. "My jargon was as good as yonder old fool of a herald's; – but let it pass. As well now as hereafter."
"You abuse time," said Quentin. "If you have aught to tell me, say it quickly, and then take some care of your soul."
"Of my soul?" said the Bohemian, with a hideous laugh. "Think ye a leprosy of twenty years can be cured in an instant? – If I have a soul, it hath been in such a course since I was ten years old and more, that it would take me one month to recall all my crimes, and another to tell them to the priest; – and were such space granted me, it is five to one I would employ it otherwise."
"Hardened wretch, blaspheme not! Tell me what thou hast to say, and I leave thee to thy fate," said Durward, with mingled pity and horror.
"I have a boon to ask," said Hayraddin, – "but first I will buy it of you; for your tribe, with all their professions of charity, give nought for nought."
"I could wellnigh say thy gifts perish with thee," answered Quentin, "but that thou art on the very verge of eternity. – Ask thy boon – reserve thy bounty – it can do me no good – I remember enough of your good offices of old."