Swords From the Desert Read Online Free Page B

bread.
    "And thou wilt see my need," he added eagerly. "Hearken, little Jeanne-"
    With an effort she swallowed the bread, feeling herself flush from throat to forehead, and wishing of a sudden that she had not dabbled in magic. She wanted to fly from the cellar but she could not.
    "-I know naught of Paris, nor have I a friend here, save thee. I am Hugh of Bearn, once armor-bearer to Sir Rohan of Navarre. We were sent from the south to bear a message to thy lord, the king. At Limoges tavern were we beset treacherously by a dozen riders, who slew Sir Rohan and De Trault. I fought clear of them and got me to a horse, and rode hither without sleep or rest, for now I must carry the message to Louis, who, they say, is captive to Duke John in this town."
    The girl drew a breath of relief and glanced at him curiously.
    "This is the message: The armed host of Navarre hath joined with my lord of Armagnac. It is now on the march toward Burgundy. Nor will it cease that march until Louis is released out of the hands of the Burgundians and set free among loyal men in Tours." He caught her hand impatiently in his. "How can I write such tidings in a letter? Nay, I must find me a way into the presence of the king and bespeak him openly. Sir Rohan said that when Louis knows that armed power hath risen to his aid, Duke John's web of scheming will be broken."
    Thoughtfully Jeanne nodded. "But how would you find a way into the Hotel St. Pol, Messire Hugh?" she asked. "Have you a plan?"
    "Get me a good horse, and I will make shift to do it."
    "Then wait!" Suddenly the girl rose and caught up her fiddle. "Don't pull a snoop-don't go out to look for aught, until I come back. For, truly, Messire Hugh, I can aid you in this." At the stairway she turned to glance back at him shyly. "Will you promise to await me?"
    "If you make haste!"
    In her own way, Jeanne did hasten, skipping through narrow alleys and under archways, toward the great street of St. Jacques.
    When she came abreast a gray wall with gate towers and tree tops showing over it, she walked slowly, her eyes alert. This, she knew, was the entrance to the Hotel St. Pol, with its gardens. She had visited its courtyard before, to play for the seigneurs, and she meant to try now to slip through into the building itself, and gain the presence of the king. She had seen his face in the streets, and she thought that no one would heed a fiddling girl. Then, if fortune served her, she might cry aloud the message that Hugh of Bearn was bringing from Navarre. These great lords, no doubt, would pay little heed to a girl's word, but still the message would be spoken, and the king himself might send for the real messenger-
    The archers lounging before the half-closed grille gates turned to stare at her, and one of them thrust a pike shaft before her, grinning.
    "Pardie," another grunted, 'Ais the fiddling wench who hath half the rogues' brigade at her summons. Let her go, Mulph."
    Safely in the courtyard, Jeanne plucked idly on the strings of her fiddle while she surveyed the prospect. On the left was a blank wall, on the right the stables and quarters of the men-at-arms. At the end of this, a roadway led into the gardens. In front of her rose the bulk of the hotel itself, with barred embrasures for windows, and a single arched gate, where stood men of the inner guard and an officer talking to a priest.
    She went up to them boldly, and touched the officer's arm. "Messire, I have word for Renault."
    He shrugged indifferently, "So have a-many."
    "'Tis a word about the crack he did last night," Jeanne whispered.
    The Burgundian frowned swiftly, and she smiled up at him, trusting that he would not know all the lieutenant's spies by sight, and would have to admit her.
    "Eh, well." He turned to the pikemen of the guard. "One of you bear her in and look to her. Renault is away for the nonce."
    Jeanne had expected that the lieutenant might be out of the hotel, but she had got herself within the doors. Listening