There was a great change in Agnes, and Madame De Brecy remarked it immediately. Hers was an earnest, though a cheerful spirit, and when she was thoughtful, those who knew her well might be sure she was debating something with herself, examining some course of action, trying some thought or feeling before the tribunal of her own heart. All that night, and all the following morning, she was very thoughtful. Her gayety seemed gone, and though she could both listen and converse, yet at the least pause she fell back into a revery again.
Jean Charost, too, was a good deal changed, at least toward Agnes, and the mother's eye marked it with very varied feelings. His manner was more tender, his language more glowing; there was a spirit in his words which had never been there before. He, too, was often very thoughtful; but Jean Charost had other motives for thought besides those connected with Agnes. Early on the morning of the day following the incidents lately detailed, he sent a man up to the watch-tower with others to keep his eye on the valley of the Cher, and Madame De Brecy remarked that the soldiers who had remained at St. Florent were no longer scattered about, either amusing themselves in the village, or sporting in the court-yard, but were gathered together, all in busy occupation, some cleaning and rubbing down their horses, some polishing armor, or sharpening swords and lances, some skillfully making arrows or quarrels for the crossbow. She refrained from asking any questions till after the mid-day meal; but it was hardly over when the horn of the watcher upon the tower was winded loudly, and De Brecy, springing up from the table, ran up the stairs himself, as if on some notice of danger. There were several of the chief persons of his little band still around the board; but none of them moved or showed any sign of anxiety, and, in truth, they had been so long inured to hourly peril that danger had lost its excitement for them.
The young lord was absent only a few minutes; but, on his return, he did not resume his seat, merely saying to the soldiers around, "To the saddle with all speed. Lead out all the horses. Some one bring me my armor. Do not look pale, my mother; I know not that there is any cause for alarm; but I heard yesterday that troops were tending toward Bourges in a somewhat menacing attitude, and I think it may be as well for us to leave St. Florent for a time, and return to De Brecy."
"Are they English?" asked Madame De Brecy, evidently much frightened.
"Not so," replied her son; "nor are they even the rebels on the English part; but I grieve to say these are Royalists, perhaps more dangerous to the king's cause than even his open enemies. I will tell you the circumstances presently; for there may yet be some mistake. The spears we have seen are very distant, and few in number. Our good friend above was quite right to give the alarm; but neither he nor I could at all tell what troops they were, nor in what force. I will go back and see more in a moment. In the mean time, however, dear mother, it would be well to have all prepared for immediate departure. I can not receive these gentlemen as friends in St. Florent, and they may be very apt to treat those who do not do so as enemies. Dear Agnes, get ready in haste. Tell Martin Grille to have my mother's litter ready; I will return directly."
Thus saying, he again went up to the watch-tower, and remained gazing along the valley of the Cher for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. There was much woodland in those days along that fair valley, and Jean Charost could not satisfy himself. Spear heads he certainly descried; but in the leafy covering of the scene they were lost almost as soon as perceived, and he could not tell their numbers. At length he turned to the warder, who stood silent, gazing out beside him, and pointed out one particular spot in the landscape. "You see that large tree," he said; "an evergreen oak, it seems to be. The road divides there into two; one turns eastward to the right, the other comes toward the north. Watch those men well as they pass that spot. They must all show themselves there. If there be more than fifty, and they come upon this road, blow your horn twice and come down. If they take the other road, remain quiet where you are till I come."
The preparations of Madame De Brecy, under the effect of fear, had been very rapid; and she and Agnes were standing in the hall, ready for departure. A page was there also, resting on a bench half covered with armor, and, as soon as his lord appeared, he sprang to arm him, asking, as Madame De Brecy had asked, "Are they the English?"
"No, boy--no!" replied De Brecy and then, turning to his mother, he said, "There is no need of great haste. We shall hear more presently. The fact is, the Count of Richmond," he continued, in a quiet, narrative tone, "has ridden the court somewhat too hard. He forced La Trimouille upon the king, as I told you the other night; and now he would rule La Trimouille, and, through him, his sovereign. He found himself mistaken, however; for Trimouille is a very different person to deal with from Giac or Beaulieu. Finding himself opposed, he determined to employ force; joined with himself the Counts of La Marche and Clermont, and advanced upon Chatellerault. When I left Poictiers, the king had chosen a decided part, and ordered the gates of Chatellerault to be closed against the counts. It was supposed, indeed, that the matter would be soon accommodated; for Richmond is needful to the king, and is himself but a mere cipher, except when serving his royal master. But since my arrival here, I have heard that, instead of submitting dutifully, he has levied larger forces, and is marching upon Bourges. If the troops I have seen be his, we shall soon hear more, and then--though doubtless there would be no great danger in staying--it may be better to retire before them. How do you go, dear Agnes? In the litter with my mother?"
"Oh, no; I will ride," replied the beautiful girl. "I have become as good a cavalier as any man in your band."
"Well, then, you shall be my second page," said Jean Charost, with a smile. "Come and buckle this strap on my shoulder--the boy can hardly reach it."
Agnes sprang forward and buckled the strap, and Jean Charost gayly kissed her cheek, saying, "Thanks for the service, dear Agnes."
His tone and manner were altogether so easy and unconcerned, that even Madame De Brecy could hardly suppose that there was any cause for fear; but, a moment after, the trumpet was heard to sound twice from the tower above, and then the step of the soldier descending the stairs heavily.
"Now, dear mother," said Jean Charost, taking the old lady's hand, "you must let me lead you to your litter; for these friends of ours are coming this way. Run, boy, and tell Martin Grille and the rest to mount, and be gone on the road to De Brecy. Come, Agnes, come."
All were soon in the court-yard. It may seem an ungallant comparison; but all light things are more easily moved than weightier ones, and women, like dust, are soon disturbed by bustle. The very haste with which her son spoke destroyed all Madame De Brecy's confidence, agitated and alarmed her. Even Agnes felt a sort of thrill of apprehension come over her heart. But in those perilous times people were drilled into promptitude. Madame De Brecy and two of the maids wee soon in the litter, and Agnes mounted on her horse by Jean Charost's side. She had seen him in times of suffering and of captivity; she had seen him go forth to battle and to danger; she had seen him in the chivalrous sports which in those times were practiced in almost every castle in the land; but she had never ridden by his side in the hour of peril and command. On many a former occasion, deep interest, compassion, admiration perhaps, had been excited in her bosom; but now other sensations arose as she heard the clear, plain orders issue from his lips, and saw the promptness and submission with which all around obeyed. Surely woman was formed to yield, and, beyond all doubt, there is something very admirable to her eyes in the display of power. But she was to witness more before the day closed.
As they issued forth upon the road down to the village of St. Florent, nothing was to be seen which could create the least alarm; and, turning toward Solier, all seemed fair and open. But still Jean Charost was watchful and anxious, throwing out several men in front, and detaching others to the rear, while, as they approached the little valley which lies between the Cher and the Avon, and gives name to the small hamlet of La Vallée, he sent one of the soldiers on whom he could trust to the top of the church tower, to reconnoitre the country around. The man came back at speed; and rejoined the party ere they had proceeded far, bringing the intelligence that he had seen a considerable body of horse following slowly at about half a league's distance.
"Then we have plenty of time," said Jean Charost, in an easy tone; but still he rather hurried the horses, and, mounting the hill, the towers of Bourges were soon in sight.
At that time the road to Mont Luçon entered the road to Bourges much nearer to the city than it does at present, and it was along the former that the way of Jean Charost lay in going to De Brecy, if he wished to avoid passing through the city itself. But as he approached the point of separation, the sound of a trumpet on the right met his ear, and, galloping up a little eminence, he saw a large body of crossbow men, with some thirty or forty men-at-arms coming up from the side of Luçon. They were near enough for the banners to be visible, and he needed nothing more to decide him. Wheeling his horse, he hurried down the hill again, and, speaking to his lieutenant, said, "There are the men of La Marche in our way. There is nothing for it but to go through Bourges."
"Here is Hubert come back from the front, sir," replied the lieutenant at once, "to tell us that they have got a party on the bridge over the Avon. They shouted to him to keep back; so they will never let us pass into Bourges."
"The best reason for going forward," answered Jean Charost, in a gay tone. "We are nicely entangled; but we have made our way through, against worse odds than this. How many are there, Hubert?"
"Much about our own numbers, fair sir," replied the man. "The others are a great deal further off; but we are right between them."
"Oh; Jean, will you be obliged to surrender?" asked Agnes, with a pale face.
"Surrender!" exclaimed Jean Charost, pointing to his pennon, which was carried by one of the men. "Shall De Brecy's pennon fall, my Agnes, before, a handful of rebels, and you by my side? Give me my lance. Now mark me, Dubois. The bridge is narrow; not more than two can pass abreast. You lead the right file, Courbeboix the left. Valentin, with the eight last men, escort the litter and this lady. The object is to give them a free passage. We must beat the rebels back off the bridge, and then disperse them over the flat ground beyond. Go back to the side of the litter, my Agnes. 'Twere better you dismounted and joined my mother. Go back, dear girl; we must lose no time. Now, loyal gentlemen, use the spur. They have bid us back; I say, forward!"
Agnes was alarmed, but less for herself than for him; and, notwithstanding the wish he had expressed, she kept her seat upon her horse's back, with her eyes straining upon the front, where she saw the plume of blue and white in De Brecy's crest dancing in the air, as his horse dashed on.
On the little party went; words were passed forward from front to rear; quicker and quicker they moved forward, till a short turn of the road showed them the bridge over the Avon, partly occupied by a party of horse, several of whom, however, had dismounted, and seemed to be gazing nonchalantly up toward the walls of Bourges.
Jean Charost gave them no time to question or prepare; for he knew right well who they were, and why they were there. Agnes saw him turn for an instant in the saddle, shout loudly a word which she did not clearly hear, and the next moment his horse dashed forward to the bridge, at what seemed to her almost frantic speed. She saw him couch his lance and bend over his saddle-bow; but the next instant, the greater part of his troop following, hid him from her sight. There was a momentary check to their headlong speed upon the bridge, and she could clearly see some one fall over into the water. All the rest was wild confusion--a mass of struggling men and horses rearing and plunging, and lances crossed, and waving swords and axes. Oh, how her young heart beat! But as she still gazed, not able to comprehend what she beheld, one of the soldiers suddenly took her horse by the rein, saying, "Come on, dear lady--come on. Our lord has cleared the way. The bridge will be free in another minute. 'Tis seldom De Brecy gives back before any odds."
Agnes could have kissed him; but on they went, and she soon saw that he was right. Driven on into the open space beyond the bridge, the men of the Count La Marche still maintained the combat; but they were evidently worsted, for some were beaten back to the right, some to the left, and some got entangled in the marshy ground, and seemed scarcely able to extricate their horses. To Agnes's great joy, however, she saw the blue and white plume still waving on the right, and a clear space before them up to the walls of the city. Forward pressed the man who had hold of her rein; the litter came after it, as fast as the horses could bear it, followed by three or four servants in straggling disarray, but flanked on either side by several stout men-at-arms. This was not all, however, which Agnes saw when she looked back to assure herself of the safety of Madame De Brecy. On the other side of the bridge, and across the marsh which lies to the east, she beheld a large, dark body of spears moving on rapidly, and at the same time, as they came closer to the walls of the town, cries and shouts were heard, apparently from within. "By the Lord! I believe they have won the city," exclaimed the soldier who was guiding her; and almost at the same moment, a man from the battlement over the gate shouted something to the conductor, who replied, "The Seigneur De Brecy, just from Poictiers. Long live King Charles!"
"Ride quick to the castle gate!" cried the man from above. "The Count of Richmond is in the city. They are fighting in the streets; but we are not enough to hold the town. To the castle--to the castle!" and he himself ran along the battlements to the westward.
Agnes's guide turned in the same direction, but was met by De Brecy coming at full speed, a little in advance of his men, who now, gathered all together again in good order, were approaching the gate which Agnes and her companion had just left.
Jean Charost heard the tidings with evident pain and anxiety; but there was no time for deliberation, and, with one cheering word to Agnes, he wheeled his horse and galloped on to another gate hard by, close to which rose up the large round tower and smaller square keep of the old citadel of Bourges. Strong works, according to the system of fortification of that day, connected the castle with the gate below, and the space between the wall and the marsh was very narrow, so that the place was considered almost impregnable on that side. A number of persons were seen upon the towers as Agnes rode on; and when she reached the castle draw-bridge, she found De Brecy arguing with a little group of armed men upon the crenelated gallery of the gate-tower, who seemed little disposed to give him admission.
"Tell Monsieur De Royans," he exclaimed, "that it is his old friend De Brecy; and in Heaven's name make haste! They are rallying in our rear, and the other squadrons coming on. You can not suppose that I would attack and rout my own friends. You have yourselves seen us at blows on the meadow. Wheel the men round there, Dubois, behind the litter," he continued, shouting to his lieutenant. "Bring their spears down, and drive those fellows into the marsh, if they come near enough."
As he spoke, however, the chains of the draw-bridge began to creak and groan, a large mass of wood-work slowly descended, and the portcullis was raised.
"Forward, Agnes, forward!" cried De Brecy, riding toward the rear; and while he and a few of his followers kept the enemy in check, the rest of the party passed over the bridge, till they were all closely packed in the space between the portcullis and the gate. The latter was then opened, and riding on, Agnes found herself in a small open sort of court, surrounded by high walls, between the inner and the outer gates. There were stone stair-cases leading up to the ramparts in different directions, and down one of these flights a gentleman in steel armor was coming slowly when the troop entered.
"Where is De Brecy?" he exclaimed, looking down upon the group below. "I do not see him. Varlet, you have not shut him out?"
"No, no; I am here!" cried the voice of De Brecy, riding in from under the arch, while the portcullis clanged, and the draw-bridge creaked behind him.
"Pardi! De Brecy," cried the man from above, "you have brought us a heap of women. Men are what we want, for we have only provisions for a week, and we shall be closely pressed, I can tell you."
"Here are forty-seven horses," answered De Brecy, "which will feed the whole castle for a month, in case of need. But is there no means of passing through the town?"
"Impossible!" cried the other. "They are just now fighting in the castle street, to bring in safely the grain out of the corn-market."
Agnes then, for the first time, became fully aware of her situation, and that she was destined to be for some time the tenant of a small citadel, closely besieged, and but very ill provided to resist.
The power of the mind to accommodate itself to all things is curiously displayed in the zest and carelessness with which soldiers, in the busy time of war, enjoy all short intervals of repose. The whole morning had been passed in skirmishing in the streets of Bourges, in strengthening every defense of the castle, and in collecting whatever provisions could be found in the neighboring houses, so long as the smallness of the force in the town permitted parties to issue forth from the citadel. But in the course of the day, the troops of the Count of La Marche and of the Count of Clermont entered Bourges, and joined the Count of Richmond. A strong party was posted across the river opposite to the gate of the castle, another occupied the bridge, and the blockade of the citadel was complete. Weary, however, with the long march and a morning's skirmishing, the troops of the revolted lords did not press the siege during the rest of the day. The defenders of the citadel, too, had but little opportunity of annoying the enemy or serving themselves; and, from three o'clock till nightfall, nothing occurred but an occasional shot of a cannon or a culverine, directed at any group of the enemy who might appear in the castle street, or at the parties on the opposite side of the river. True, the citadel was surrounded on every side by a strong force; true, the siege was likely to commence on the following day with vigor and determination; but still a sort of tacit truce was established for the time; and could any one have seen the little party of superior officers seated together in the castle of Bourges that night at supper, they would have seemed but a gay assembly of thoughtless men met together on some occasion of merry-making. They laughed, they talked, and some of them drank deep; but none of them seemed to give one thought to their perilous situation, trusting confidently to the precautions they had taken for defense, and to the care and faith of those who had been left upon guard.
Jean Charost, though perhaps the gravest of the party, seemed for the time as indifferent to the fate of the citadel as the rest; and, seated next to Juvenel de Royans, conversed upon any subject on earth but the state of Bourges, dwelling upon former times and past-by occurrences, the days they had spent together in the household of the Duke of Orleans, their after meetings, and the fatal events of Monterreau.
"What a strange thing life is, De Brecy!" said his companion. "Here you and I meet, first as enemies, and are ready to cut each others throats; then as young friends and brothers-in-arms, ready to sacrifice our lives for one another; and then here we are, beleaguered in this fusty old château of Bourges, with Richmond, who never spares an enemy, and La Marche, who seldom spares a friend, ready to dig us out of our hole, as they would a badger on the side of a hill. I forgot to mention our short meeting at Monterreau, for, by my faith! I was too ill at that time even to do the honors of my quarters."
"You seem wonderfully improved in health, De Royans," said Jean Charost. "You look younger by four or five years than you did then."
"But a poor, battered old soldier, after all," replied De Royans, tossing up with his fingers one of the curls that hung at the back of his neck. "You see I am as gray as a wild goose. However, I am much better. A year's idleness on the banks of the Garonne, a little music, and a great deal of physic, cured my wounds, loosened my stiff joints, and enabled me to keep my horses back almost as well as ever. I have got on in the world, too, De Brecy, have made some very nice little captures, paid off many old debts, and got two companies of arquebusiers under my command instead of one. I wish to Heaven I had them all here. Had they been in the town, Richmond would never have got in by the northwest gate."
"I marvel much that he did, I will confess," replied Jean Charost. "Two days ago I sent Monsieur de Blondel there intimation that Bourges was in danger. I thought fit, indeed, to tell him the source from which I received the intelligence; but still it might have kept him on his guard."
"Oh, I heard all about that," replied De Royans, laughing; "and we were all more or less in fault. When Blondel got your letter, he held it in his hand, after reading it, and cried out, in his jeering way, 'What's a hermit? and what does a hermit know of war?' Then said Gaucourt, 'As much as the pig does of the bagpipe; and why should he not?' and then they all laughed, and the matter passed by. But who is this hermit who has got such good intelligence? On my life! De Brecy, it would be well to have him in pay."
"That you could hardly have," replied De Brecy. "He was once a famous soldier, my friend, but has met with many disasters in life. I went to see him upon other matters; but the intelligence he gave me, transmitted from mouth to mouth, I believe, all the way from Chatellerault to St. Florent, seemed so important that I left him without even touching upon my object. He is looked upon as a saint by all the country round, and the peasantry tell him every thing they hear."
"But what, in Fortune's name, took you to a saint?" asked Juvenel de Royans, laughing "Was it to ask for absolution for wandering about the land with that lovely little creature you brought hither?"
Jean Charost looked grave, but answered calmly, "That was no sin, I trust, De Royans, for I may call her my adopted daughter. She had, indeed, something to do with my going to see him, for he has great knowledge of her fate and history; and I wished to learn more than he has ever yet told me. It is time that she herself should know all. She will, it is true, have all I die possessed of; but still I could wish the mystery of her birth cleared up."
"Why, surely this is not the infant you brought out of the wood near Beauté sur Marne--the child we had so many jests upon?" exclaimed De Royans.
"The very same," replied Jean Charost. "She has been as a child to me ever since."
"We thought she was your child then," replied De Royans. "Heaven help us! I have learned to think differently since of many things, and would gladly have wished you joy of your babe, if you had acknowledged her, right or wrong; but, as it was, we all vowed she was yours, and only called you the sanctified young sinner. Two or three times I went down to good Dame Moulinet's to see if I could not get the truth out of her; but; though she seemed to know much, she would say little."
"Do you know if Dame Moulinet be still living, and where she is?" asked Jean Charost.
"She was living a year ago, and not ten miles from Bourges," replied De Royans. "In the village of Solier, hard by the Cher. I had one of her sons in my troop. She and her husband are well to do now, for they have got her father's inheritance. They were tenants of that old Monsieur de Solier whose daughter our dear lord and master, the Duke of Orleans, carried off by force from her husband."
Jean Charost started, and exclaimed, "Merciful Heaven!"
"Ay, it was bad enough," said De Royans. "Our noble lord had his little faults and his great ones; and some of them. I have a notion, imbittered his last hours. This, above all others, I believe, affected him, for it had a terrible termination, as I dare say you remember."
"No--no," answered Jean Charost; "I never heard of it before. How did it end?"
"Why, the lady died," said De Royans, gravely. "No one of the household very well knew how, unless it was Lomelini. Some say that she was poisoned--some, that she was stabbed in her sleep."
"Not by the duke!" exclaimed Jean Charost, with a look of horror.
"God forbid!" cried Juvenel de Royans, eagerly. "He only loved her too well. No; there were strange tales going; but certain it is she died, and her death nearly deprived the duke of reason, they thought. Now, I recollect, you first came about that very time. The lady had been ill some months; but, as there was the cry of a babe in the house--one might hear it from the garden--we thought that natural enough. Her death, however, surprised us all. Hypocritical Lomelini would have us believe that it was remorse that killed her; but there were a great many strange things took place just then. One of the judges of the Châtelet was brought to the palace--there were secret investigations, and I know not what. Your coming about that time made us think you had something to do with the affair. Some said you were her younger brother. But what makes you look so sad, De Brecy?"
"The subject is a sad one," answered Jean Charost; "and, moreover, new lights are breaking upon me, De Royans. Do you think, if Lomelini is still living, he could give me information upon those events?"
"He could, if he would," answered his companion. "He is living, and as sleek as ever, and Abbot of Briare; but I can tell you, I think, all that remains to be told. Poor old Monsieur De Solier died of grief. I shall never forget his coming to the Palais d'Orleans, to persuade the duke to give his daughter up, nor the despair of his countenance when the duke would not see him. The husband made away with himself, I believe, which was a pity, for they say this Count De St. Florent was as good a soldier as any of his day, and had fought in many a battle under Charles the Fifth. However, he never was heard of more, from the time the duke carried off his wife, during his absence. That is all that is to tell. One--two--three, died miserably for a prince's pleasures; and he himself had his heart wrung with remorse, which is better, perhaps, than could be said of most princes. It is a sad history, though a brief one."
"And the child?" said De Brecy.
Juvenel de Royans looked suddenly up with an inquiring glance. "I do not know," he said. "But do you think--do you really believe--"
"I know nothing," replied Jean Charost. "The duke told me nothing of all this. I had fancied he might have something of importance to communicate; and, indeed, something was said about giving me some papers; but he was murdered, and--"
"Did you never get the packet Lomelini had for you?" asked De Royans.
Before Jean Charost could answer, a soldier came into the hall, saying, "Is there a Monsieur de Brecy here?"
"He is here, young man; what do you want?" asked De Brecy.
"A letter addressed to you, sir," answered the soldier, advancing toward him.
All eyes turned at once upon the bearer of the letter and him to whom it was addressed; and De Blondel, who was in command, exclaimed, "A letter, by the Lord! Unless we have taken to writing letters to one another, the gates of the old château must be more open than we thought."
"I found it on an arrow-head, sir, just within the east barbican," replied the soldier.
"Well, well. What contains it?" asked the other, impatiently. "News, or no news, good or bad, Seigneur De Brecy?"
"News, and good news," replied Jean Charost, who had by this time received the letter and unfolded it; "hear what he says;" and he proceeded to read from the somewhat crooked and irregular lines before him the following words:
"FAITHFUL AND TRUE,--This is to have you know that King Charles is already on the march for your deliverance. Hold out to the last, and two days will see the royal banner before Bourges. Let not your companions slight this notice as they slighted the last; for the shameful loss of Bourges can only be repaired by the brave defense of the castle."
"He touched us there pretty sharply," said Blondel; "and, 'pon my life, what he says is true; so I, for one, swear by this flagon of wine--and if I don't keep my vow may I never drink another--that I will bury myself under the ruins of the castle before I surrender it. What say you, gentlemen? Will you all touch the tankard, and take the vow?"
They all swore accordingly; for the chivalrous custom of making such rash vows had not departed, though Chandos, one of the most remarkable of vow-makers, had laid his head in the grave nearly half a century before. It must be confessed, however, that Jean Charost took the oath unwillingly, for there were lives in that castle dearer to him than his own.
This is not a book of battles and sieges--those fire-works of history which explode with a brief space of brilliant light, and leave nothing but dust, and tinder, and darkness. The man who gave an account of the three great battles of the world, and explained that he meant those which had permanently affected the destinies of the human race, probably named three too many. There is nothing so insignificant as a battle. The invention of the steam-engine was worth a thousand of the greatest victories that ever were achieved.
This is no hook of battles and sieges, and, therefore, I will pass over lightly the events of the two succeeding days. Suffice it, the counts of Richmond, Clermont, and Marche pressed the Castle of Bourges with all the means and appliances they could command. They attacked it from the country side; they attacked it from the city; they assailed the gates and barriers sword in hand; they endeavored to escalade the walls; but they were met at every point with stern and determined resistance, and though by no means well prepared for defense, the château held out; the besiegers lost many men, and gained nothing.
In the midst of these scenes, Jean Charost was not inactive. Now on the walls, now at the barricades, and now quietly sitting in the high upper chamber of the round tower, with Agnes, and his mother, and their maids plying the busy silk with trembling fingers, he tried to give encouragement to the soldiery, and to restore confidence and calmness to the women. There was something in his aspect, something in the perfect serenity of his look and manner, in the absence of every sign of agitation and anxiety on his face, which was not without its effect, and the news which he brought of the speedy coming of the King of France to the relief of his faithful vassals besieged in Bourges afforded bright hope and expectation. The services of himself and those whom he brought were great to the defenders of a citadel too large for the numbers it contained; and his quiet, unassuming bravery, his activity and ready presence of mind, won for him that respect which pretension, even well founded, could not have gained.
"I always knew he would make a good soldier," said Juvenel de Royans, somewhat proud of his friendship and their long companionship; and Blondel himself, one of the first knights of France, admitted that he had never seen a clearer head or stronger hand exercised in the hour of danger.
At first sight, it may seem strange to say that the news of the king's march, which brought hope and relief to the whole garrison--and, in one sense, to himself also--filled him, when considered in another point of view, with grief and alarm. But when Jean Charost considered what must necessarily be the consequence--at a moment when more than one half of France was in possession of a foreign invader, and the first vassal of the crown in arms against his sovereign--of an actual struggle between the monarch in person, and three of those who had been his chief supporters, his heart sunk as he thought, what might be the fate of France. During many a moment throughout the first and second day, when a pause took place in the attack, he meditated somewhat sadly of these things; but he was not a man only to meditate, without action; and toward evening he took De Blondel aside to confer with him as to what was to be done. A few words presented the subject to the mind of the other in the same light in which it appeared to himself, and he then said, "I wish you very much to consider this, Monsieur De Blondel, as I think an opportunity is afforded you of rendering great service to France. Were I in your place, I would open negotiations at once with the constable, and represent to him the consequences that are likely to ensue. It would be no slight honor to you if you could induce him to cease the attack, and draw off his forces, even before the king appears, and little less if you could commence a negotiation which might be carried on after his majesty's arrival, and heal these unhappy dissensions."
"By the Lord," cried Blondel, "if I were the king, I would have the head of every one of them, who by his insolent ambition and rebellious spirits gives strength to the arm of our foreign adversary, and takes away the strength of France. Nevertheless, I suppose he is obliged to temporize. But there are many difficulties in the way, my good friend. You are a negotiator, I am told, as well as a soldier. I know nothing of such things, and should only make a blunder. I should never know how to use the knowledge we possess of the king's coming without betraying the secret to the enemy."
"Well, leave it to me," said De Brecy. "I will act in your name."
De Blondel mused for a minute. "On the condition," he said, at length, "that there is no talk of surrendering the castle; and also that you say nothing of the king's movements till he is actually in sight. But who will you get to go? On my life, the task is somewhat perilous; for Richmond is just the man either to hang any one who pretends to oppose his will, or drown him in a sack, as he did Giac."
"I will go," replied De Brecy. "I have no fear. The constable is violent, haughty, domineering; but at heart he has a sincere love for France, a bitter hatred of the English, and devotion to the royal cause. Giac he scorned, as well as hated; and besides, Giac stood in his way. Me he neither scorns nor hates, nor wishes to remove. By your leave, I will send out for a safe-conduct by a flag of truce, and you shall give me a general authority to treat, though, of course, not to conclude."
De Blondel was easily led in such matters. A good soldier and a gallant man, he commanded skillfully and fought well; but his political views were not very far-sighted, and he was one of those persons who fancy they save themselves half the trouble of decision by looking only at one side of a question. The authority was given as amply as Jean Charost desired, and nearly in words of his own dictation: a flag of truce was sent out to demand a pass for the Seigneur De Brecy, in order to a conference with the lord constable, and the bearer speedily returned with the paper required, reporting that he had remarked much satisfaction among the rebel leaders at the message which he had carried them, in which they doubtless saw an indication of some intention to capitulate.
A slight degree of agitation was apparent upon Blondel's face, as Jean Charost, divested of his harness, and armed only with sword and dagger, prepared to set out upon his enterprise. "I do not half like to let you go, sir knight," he said. "This Richmond is a very furious fellow. There is no knowing what he may do."
"I do not fear," repeated Jean Charost. "But, in case of any accident, De Blondel, I trust in your honor and your kindness to protect the ladies whom I leave here with you. They have some thirty or forty men with them who would each shed the last drop of his blood in their defense; but the honor of a knight, and that knight De Blondel, is a surer safeguard than a thousand swords."
The gates of the castle were soon passed; and the first barricade which the assailants had raised in the Rue du Château was reached without question. Some half dozen men were lying on a pile of straw behind, lighted by a solitary lantern; but two of them started up immediately, and, though neither of them could read a word of the pass, they both seemed to have been previously informed of what they had to do; for they insisted upon bandaging De Brecy's eyes, and leading him on blindfold, as if conducting him through the works of a regular fortress. He submitted with a smile; for he knew every step of the city of Bourges from his childhood, and could almost tell every house that they passed as he was led along. The tread of the broad stone sill of the gateway where they at length stopped was quite familiar to him; and it was without surprise that, on the bandage being removed, he found himself in the court-yard of his old friend Jacques Cœur.
Conducted up a narrow stair-case, in one of the congregation of square towers, of which the building principally consisted, he was introduced into a small, but very tall cabinet, lined with gilt leather hangings. In the midst stood a table, with three gentlemen surrounding it, and a lamp, swinging overhead and showing a mass of papers on the board, the stern, square-cut head of the constable bent over them, the mild and rather feeble expression of the Count La Marche, and the sharp, supercilious face of the Count of Clermont.
"Here is Monsieur De Brecy, I presume," said the latter, addressing Richmond.
The constable started up, and held out his hand frankly, saying, "Welcome, welcome, De Brecy. Sit down. There's a stool. Well," he continued, as soon as the guard was gone, and the door closed, "what cheer in the castle?"
"Very good cheer, my lord," replied De Brecy. "We have not yet finished the pullets, and horse-flesh is afar off."
The Count La Marche laughed; but Richmond exclaimed, somewhat impatiently, "Come, let us to the point. You are frank and free usually, De Brecy. Say what terms of capitulation you demand, and you shall speedily have my answer."
"You mistake my object altogether, my lord," replied De Brecy. "The castle is less likely to capitulate than when first you sat down before it. There are now men enough within to defend it for a month against five times your force, unless you shoot better than you have done these last two days; and we have provisions for some months, as well for our own mouths as for those of the culverins."
"Then, in the devil's name, what did you come here for?" exclaimed Richmond, angrily.
"Upon business, my lord," replied De Brecy, "which I should wish to communicate to you alone."
"No, no. No secrets from these gentlemen," said the constable; and then added, with a hard, dry laugh, "we are all chickens of one coop, and share the same grain and the same fate. Speak what you have to say before them."
"Be it so, if you desire it, my lord," replied De Brecy. "I came to offer an humble remonstrance to you, sir, and to point out a few facts regarding your own situation"--Richmond gave an impatient jerk in his chair, as if about to interrupt him; but De Brecy proceeded--"and that of the citadel, which I think have escaped your attention."
"Ay, ay; speak of the citadel," answered Richmond. "That is what I would fain hear of."
"I have told you, my lord," replied De Brecy, "that the citadel can and will hold out for more than a month, and nothing that you can do will take it. Long before that month is at an end, the king himself will be here to give it relief."
"Well, let him come," exclaimed Richmond, impatiently. "We may have the citadel before he arrives, for all you say."
"I think not, sir," answered De Brecy; "and if you knew as much of the affair as I do, you would say so too. But let us suppose for a moment that the castle does hold out, and that the king arrives before you can take it--"
"Perhaps we can deal with both," cried Richmond.
"And ruin France!" answered De Brecy. "I will never believe that the Count of Richmond--the loyal, faithful Count of Richmond--that the Count of La Marche, allied to the royal race; or the Count of Clermont, well known for his attachment to the throne, would be seen fighting against their sovereign at the very moment when, surrounded by foreign enemies, he is making a last desperate struggle for the salvation of his country and your own."
He turned slightly toward the Count La Marche as he spoke, and Richmond exclaimed, in a furious tone, "Speak to me, sir. I am commander here. By the Lord, if you attempt to corrupt my allies, I will have your head off your shoulders."
"You forced me to speak in their presence, my lord," replied Jean Charost, coolly; "and, whatever I have to say must be said as boldly as if they were not here."
"Nay, nay; let him speak, good cousin," said the Count La Marche. "It is but right we should hear what he has to say."
"My noble lord constable," said Clermont, "can not blame Monsieur De Brecy for acting on his own orders. We were his dear allies a moment ago, and partners of all his secrets. Why should we not hear the young gentleman's eloquence?"
"Would I were eloquent!" replied De Brecy. "I would then show you, my lords, what a spectacle it would hold up to the world, to see one of the first officers of the crown of France, and two of the first noblemen of the land, from some small personal disgusts at the king's prime minister, violating their allegiance, frustrating all their sovereign's efforts to save his country, plunging the state, already made a prey to enemies by military factions, into greater danger and confusion than ever, and destroying the last hope for safety in France."
Richmond rolled his eyes from the speaker to the two counts, and from their faces to that of De Brecy again, while his fingers clasped ominously round the hilt of his dagger. "Let him do us justice," he cried; "let him do us justice, and we will sheathe the sword."
"Even if he have not done you justice," said De Brecy, boldly, "is this a moment to unsheathe the sword against your lord--that sword which he himself put into your hands? Is this a time, when every true son of France should sacrifice all personal considerations, and shed the last drop of his blood, were it necessary, for the deliverance of his country, to take advantage of the difficulties of his sovereign in order to wring concessions from him by force of arms? But has he not done you justice, my lord constable? Twice has his minister been sacrificed to your animosity. A third time you quarrel with the minister whom you yourself forced upon him, and plunge your unhappy country, already torn to pieces by strangers, into civil war, because the king will not, for the third time, submit to your will. Are his ministers but nine-pins, to be set up and knocked down for your pleasure? Are they but tools, to be used as you would have them? and are you an officer of the king, or his ruler?"
The constable started up, with his drawn dagger in his hand, and would probably have cast himself on De Brecy, had not the Count La Marche interposed.
"Hold, hold!" he cried, throwing himself in the way. "No violence, Richmond. On my life, he speaks well and truly. We are here for the public good--"
"At least we-pretend so," said the Count of Clermont. "Really, my lord constable, you had better let Monsieur De Brecy go on, and speak quietly. We presume that he can say nothing that you would not wish us to hear, being chickens of the same coop, as you yourself have said; and the sharp arguments you seemed about to use might convince him, but could not convince us."
Richmond threw himself into his seat again, and thrust the dagger back into its sheath.
"Let us consider calmly," said the Count La Marche, "what are to be the consequences if the king does come to the relief of this castle before we have taken it."
"Simply that we shall be besieged in the good city of Bourges," said the Count of Clermont, "and pass three or four months very pleasantly, with such diet and exercise as a besieged city usually affords."
"Merely to get rid of La Trimouille," said the Count La Marche.
The door suddenly opened as he spoke, and a gentleman, armed all but the head, entered in haste. "I beg your pardon, my lords," he said; "but I have thought fit to bring you instant intelligence that trumpets have been heard in the direction of Pressavoix, and some of the peasantry report that the king is there with a large force."
"So soon!" said Richmond.
"Got between us and Paris!" said the Count of Clermont.
"The very movement is a reproach, my lords," replied De Brecy. "It shows that the king, unhappily, has been led to infer, from the surprise of Bourges, that three of the noblest men in France are in league with the common adversary. Oh, wipe away such a stain from your names, I beseech you! Send somebody to the king to make representations, if nothing more; and let not the Englishmen see true Frenchmen shedding each other's blood, while they are riding triumphant over the land. My life for it, if you have any real grievances, they will be redressed when properly represented."
"It is false!" cried Richmond, vehemently, catching at some of De Brecy's words, and not heeding the rest. "We have no league with the enemy. We are faithful vassals of the crown of France; but we can be loyal to the king without being servile to his minister."
"I doubt you not in the least, my lord," replied De Brecy. "Had I believed you disloyal, I never would have come hither. I have sought but to show you what language your actions speak, without ever questioning the truth and, fidelity that is in your heart. All I beseech you now to do, is to send some one at once to the king to negotiate terms of accommodation, and to show the loyalty you feel, before passion lead you into absolute treason."
"I think the proposal is a very good one," said the Count La Marche. "We can do no harm by negotiating."
"At all events, it will put our adversaries in the wrong," said Clermont. "What say you, Richmond?"
"Well, well," said the constable, "I say yea also, although I have known more great successes cut short, more mighty enterprises frustrated, more good hopes crushed by small negotiation than by battle or defeat. However, so be it. Let some one go, though, good faith, I know not who will be the man, being sure of one thing, that, were I Tremouille, and a sleek-faced negotiator were to come with pleasant words from Richmond, La Marche, or Clermont, I would write my answer on his forehead, and hang him on the first tree I found. When men have gone as far as we have, to my mind there is no going back. However, I yield to better judgment. Send some one, if you can find him."
Clermont and La Marche consulted together for a moment or two in a low tone, and, to say sooth, they seemed sorely puzzled. But at length La Marche looked up, saying, with some hesitation, "Perhaps Monsieur De Brecy would undertake the task?"
"Good Lord!" exclaimed the constable, slightly raising his hands and eyes.
"I will go willingly," replied De Brecy; "but it can only be, my lords, to open the negotiation for you. Carry it on I can not, as I am not of your faction. I shall require a letter under the hand of one or more of you assuring his majesty of the loyalty of your intentions, and begging him to appoint persons to confer with yourselves or your deputies in regard to certain grievances of which you complain. In this I think I shall succeed; but I will bear you back his majesty's answer, and after that can take no further share in the affair."
"What, then," exclaimed the constable, in a tone of affected surprise, "you do not propose to rise upon our tombs to higher honor and preferment?"
"Not in the least," replied De Brecy. "I am here, even at this present moment, merely as the envoy of Monsieur De Blondel, who sent me to you, as this authority will show."
"Pooh, pooh!" said Richmond, in a contemptuous tone. "De Blondel has no wits either for the conception or the execution of such projects. But one thing I must exact, Monsieur De Brecy: if we send you to the king, you must hold no consultations in the castle before you go."
De Brecy meditated for a moment, and then replied, "See Monsieur De Blondel I must, my lord; for I came from him to you, and must render him an account of what I have done. That account, however, may be very short. I can have him called to the barriers, and any one of you may hear what passes. I must, however, have horses and some of my train."
"Be it so," said the constable. "I will go with you. You, Clermont, are a scribe, so write the letter to the king. It will be ready when we come back. Doubtless you will make it dutiful enough, and you need not say, unless you wish it, that Richmond is the only obstacle."
With this sneer he rose, put his bonnet on his head, and accompanied De Brecy out of the room. As they went he said little, and at the barrier, both while Jean Charost waited for Blondel's coming and during their short conference, stood silent, with his arms crossed upon his breast. The governor of the castle, indeed, noticed the constable first, saying, "Give you good-night, my lord;" but Richmond only bent his head gravely in reply, and spoke but once during the whole interview, saying, when Jean Charost had given directions regarding his horses and men, "Send them down to Jacques Cœur's house, De Blondel, and that as quick as may be, for fear La Marche should have time to change his mind, and Clermont to fill his letter so full of tropes that no one can understand it."