"I also found us two saddled horses," continued Saint-Lucq, risking a quick glance out of the window. "Cam you ride?"
"Uh. . . . Yes. A little. . . . You think the cavaliers are still after us?"
"I'm sure of it. They want you and they've not given up the fight. . . . The bodies of the brigands I killed at the mill were still warm when they arrived and as a result, these cavaliers know they only missed us by a tiny margin. And if they found the horses 1 had planned to use in our flight, they also know there are two of us, and that we are on foot. They are no doubt scouring the countryside for us at this very moment."
"But we'll escape them, won't we?"
"We'll have a chance if we don't delay. After all, they don't know where we're going."
"To Paris?"
"Not before we've reclaimed that document. Not before we've put it in a safe place. Get dressed."
A little later, Bailleux was just finishing dressing when he broke down. He dropped onto the bed, put his face in his hands, and burst into sobs.
"I ... I don't understand," was all he managed to say.
"What?" said the stone-faced half-blood.
"Why me? Why has all this happened to me . . . ? I've led the most orderly of lives. I studied and worked with my father before inheriting his position. I married the daughter of a colleague. I was a good son and I believe I am a good husband. I'm charitable and I pray. I conduct my business with honour and honesty. And in return, I have asked for nothing but to be allowed to live in peace. ... So why?"
"You opened the wrong testament. And, what is worse, you let that fact be known."
"But it was my duty as a notary!"
"Undoubtedly."
"It's not fair."
To that, Saint-Lucq did not reply.
From his point of view, there was no fairness in life. There were only strong men and weak ones, the rich and the poor, the wolves and the sheep, the living and the dead. That was how the world was, and how it would always be. Anything else was merely fiction.
He approached the notary in the hope of encouraging him to get a grip on himself. The notary rose suddenly and hugged him hard. The half-blood braced himself as the other spoke: "Thank you, monsieur. Thank you. ... I
don't know who you are, in truth. I don't know who sent you. . . . But without you . . . my God, without you . . . ! Believe me when I say that you have my eternal regard, monsieur. There is nothing, from now on, that I could refuse you. You saved me. I owe you my life."
Slowly but firmly, Saint-Lucq moved away from him.
Then, his hands resting on Bailleux's shoulders, he gave him a shake and ordered: "Look at me, monsieur."
The notary obeyed and the crimson spectacles returned his gaze.
"Do not thank me," continued Saint-Lucq. "And do not trouble yourself any further with the question of who employs me, or why. I do what I do because I'm paid to. If I had been required to kill you, you would be dead. So never thank me again. My place is neither in sensational novels, nor in the chronicles of our times. I'm not a hero. I'm only a swordsman. Contrary to your opinion, I do not deserve anyone's esteem."
Initially incredulous, Bailleux was visibly hurt by this declaration.
Finally, still looking dazed, he nodded and pulled on the beret the half-blood had brought him.
"We should hurry," concluded Saint-Lucq. "Each minute that passes is a minute lost."
The notary left the room first and while he climbed gracelessly into the saddle in the courtyard the half-blood paused inside for a moment to pay the landlord and slip a few words into his ear. The man listened to his instructions attentively, then nodded and pocketed an additional piece of gold.
Less than half an hour after Saint-Lucq and Bailleux left, armed riders arrived. The landlord was waiting for them on the doorstep.
10
In the dining room of the Hotel de I'Epervier, the Cardinal's Blades finished their lunch.
Seated at the head of the rough oak table, La Fargue spoke very seriously with Leprat and Agnes. Marciac listened, close by, and occasionally made an interjection but otherwise contented himself with rocking back and forth on his chair and shuffling a deck of cards which, inevitably, then turned out to have all four aces on top. Almades, silent, waited. As for Ballardieu, he digested his lunch while smoking a pipe and sipping the last of the wine, not without casting longing glances at Nai's's backside as she cleared the table.
"Pretty girl, isn't she?" Marciac said to him, seeing the old soldier ogling the comely young woman.
"Yes. Very."
"But not very talkative. Almost mute."
"I see an advantage there."
"Really? What a strange idea. . . ."