"Unless I am laid by the heels," I answered laughing, "I shall be at Rochelle shortly after you!"
It was on the evening of the first day in August, 1568, that I rode into the village of Le Blanc. All day long a pitiless sun had been beating down on the arid earth, with not one freshening breeze to temper the intense heat, and even now not a breath of air stirred so much as a solitary leaf on the trees.
My poor beast dragged wearily along, and his fatigue was scarcely greater than my own.
"Good old fellow!" I said, stroking his neck affectionately, "a few hundred yards more and we shall be at home. Food and water, clean straw, and a shady place for you. Ha, ha, old fellow, that makes you prick up your ears!"
We trailed along the sun-baked street; the door of every house was wide open; the villagers, men, women, and children sprawled listlessly in the coolest places, hardly raising their eyes at the beat of my horse's hoofs.
But those who did glance up gazed at me curiously, and once or twice I heard a muttered, "'Tis Monsieur Edmond!" as if I were the last person they expected to see in my own home. Their strange glances, half surprise, half pity, made me uncomfortable, and set me wondering whether any accident had happened.
However, I proceeded slowly as far as the inn, outside which half a dozen men had congregated, while old Pierre himself stood in the doorway. They greeted me in wonder, and again I heard some one say, "'Tis Monsieur Edmond!"
"Well, my friends," I exclaimed, with perhaps a suggestion of annoyance in my voice, "is there any reason why it should not be Monsieur Edmond? Did you think me dead, or has the heat affected your brains? Speak up, some of you!"
"Is monsieur going to the castle?" asked Pierre.
"Of course I am!" I answered half angrily.
"Perhaps monsieur will dismount and enter the inn. Things have happened since monsieur went away."
A great fear seized me, but, keeping my features under control, I slipped from the saddle, and, bidding the ostler take charge of the animal, followed Pierre into the one private room the inn contained.
"Now, Pierre," I exclaimed, "tell me the story quickly, in as few words as possible."
"First then, monsieur," began the old man in his quavering voice, "it is useless going to the castle, as it is shut up."
"The castle shut up!" I cried in astonishment. "Well, go on with the story; it promises plenty of interest."
"Shortly after your departure, monsieur, many rumours spread abroad. Some said one thing, some mother; but no one knew the truth. Then, one night, your father sent for me to the castle. He orderedme to watch for your return, and to tell you he had gone to Rochelle. Not another word, monsieur, except that you were to join him, and to keep out of the way of the king's troops."
"This is strange news!" I said.
"Your father must have gone away that night, monsieur, for next day the castle was deserted. And it was well he did not stay longer," the old man concluded, with a wise shake of the head.
"Why?" I asked anxiously.
"The next night, monsieur, we were roused from sleep by the tramping of soldiers. I ran to the window and looked out. There were more than two hundred of them marching through the village. On arriving at the castle, they found they were too late. Their leader was very angry; he raved like a madman."
"Did you go to listen to him?"
"No, monsieur, he slept here at the inn. The next day he had all the villagers drawn up outside, and made them a grand speech. Had it not been for his soldiers, I think he would not have left the village alive."
"Then he made the good folk angry?"
"Monsieur, it was terrible. He said the Sieur Le Blanc was a traitor to the king, that he had harboured one of the king's enemies, and that his life was forfeit to the law. Any man was to shoot him like a dog. He said all this, monsieur, and more, much more. Then he called in the leading men one by one, and questioned them closely, but they knew nothing."
"He should have asked you, Pierre."
"He did, monsieur, but he said I was a stupid dolt, with no more sense than one of my own casks!" and the old man broke into a hearty laugh.
"You had a guest the night I went away; he left early in the morning. Who was he?"
"I do not know, monsieur. He was a stranger who wished to learn all he could about the chief folk in the district; but he was an enemy to the Cause, and he did not carry away much information. Old Pierre was too dense to understand his questions," and the old man chuckled again.
"Well," I said after a pause, "since it is useless going to the castle, I must put up here for the night. I am tired and hungry. Get me some supper and a bed; meanwhile I must attend to my horse; the poor beast has carried me far."
Pierre's information was very disquieting, but, as my father had evidently received timely warning, I trusted he had effected his escape, and that by this time he was safely sheltered behind the strong walls of La Rochelle.
When Pierre brought in the supper I asked after Jacques, and, hearing he had not returned, told the landlord to inform him of what had happened. Whether he would endeavour to get into Rochelle or not I left to himself.
I ate my supper slowly, my mind fully occupied with this extraordinary occurrence. Why had my father thus suddenly been marked down for vengeance? He was a noted Huguenot, 'twas true, but he was not a leader such as Condé or the Admiral. He had sheltered thewounded messenger, and had allowed me to carry the warning to Tanlay.
This, of course, was sufficient to incur the Queen-Mother's displeasure; but how had the knowledge reached her? Who was there at Le Blanc able and willing to betray our secrets? Not a soul, unless——! Ah, the name leaped of itself into my mind. Who was the maker of mischief but Etienne Cordel?
I put together all that I had heard of this man whom Jacques detested so thoroughly. He was a lawyer, who, by some means, had amassed wealth and lands. Numerous stories, all evil, were related of him, and it was rumoured that he had long served as a useful tool to persons in high places. At least he had prospered exceedingly in some mysterious manner, and it was said he had been promised a patent of nobility. I called for Pierre, and asked if he had heard anything fresh lately of this upstart lawyer.
"No, monsieur," he answered, "Cordel had gone away before the soldiers came, and he has not yet returned. He went hurriedly, after a visit from the cavalier who slept here. Monsieur does not think——"
"For the present I think nothing, Pierre. I am tired and will go to bed. Get me an early breakfast, so that I can proceed on my journey in the cool of the morning."
Of what use were my suspicions, even if I proved them to be correct? The mischief was done, and I could not undo it. My father was a fugitive from his home, to which he dared not return, and it only remained for me to join him.
I went to bed, and, in spite of my anxiety, was soon asleep, for the long journey from Noyers had been both tedious and fatiguing. Pierre called me early, and while the village still slumbered I set forth.
"Monsieur goes to Rochelle?" asked the old man, as I vaulted lightly into the saddle.
"Yes, at present I intend going to Rochelle."
"It is said here that the war has begun again."
"If it has not, it soon will, Pierre, and when it is finished, the Sieur Le Blanc will once more be master of his castle."
"Heaven grant it, monsieur," said he earnestly, as I rode off.
The state of the country west of Le Blanc was even more deplorable than what I had seen during my journey to Tanlay. The fields were bare both of corn and of cattle; the villagers were starving; the people of the towns went about in fear and trembling; the king's troops robbed as they pleased without restraint.
At Poictiers I found the citizens in a state of dangerous excitement. Armed bands, some Huguenots, some Catholics, patrolled the streets, singing and shouting, and uttering threats of vengeance. Fearful of being mixed up in these disturbances, I alighted before the door of the first decent inn, gave my horse to the ostler, and entered.
"Your streets are a trifle dangerous for a peaceful traveller," I remarked to the landlord, who showed me to a room.
"What would you, monsieur?" he asked, with a shrug of the shoulders; "the times are evil. Thesemiserable heretics disturb the whole country with their senseless brawls. But the mischief will be stamped out before long."
"How?" I said. "Has not the king granted them the privilege of worshipping in their own way?"
"Ah, monsieur, that was meant but for a time. The Queen-Mother will make a clean sweep of their rights as soon as she has power enough. And it is said," here he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, "that a royal army is already marching from Paris. But monsieur is hungry?"
"Hungry and thirsty both," I replied. "What is that?" for the sounds of angry voices came from the outside.
"It is nothing, monsieur; some one has drawn a knife, perhaps, and there is a little fighting, but that is all. One does not regard these things," and he hurried off to prepare my meal.
After leaving Poictiers, I avoided the towns as much as possible, though travelling in the country districts was nearly as hazardous. The peasants having no work, and being without food, had formed themselves into robber bands, and more than once I owed my safety to the fleetness of my horse.
However, on the evening of the second day, I reached Rochelle, just as the gates were being closed. The streets were filled with citizens and Huguenot soldiers, and it was apparent that the illustrious fugitives had arrived safely at their stronghold.
Being a stranger to the city I rode slowly along the street, noting the houses, and scanning the peopleclosely, on the chance of discovering a familiar face. In all my solitary wanderings I had not felt as lonely as I did now, amidst a seething crowd of my fellow-creatures.
The first thing, of course, was to find my father, but on coming to theHôtel Coligny, I resolved to dismount and to seek out Felix Bellièvre. Fortunately, he was within, and I received a hearty welcome, which caused me to feel once more as if I belonged to the world of human beings.
"Faith, Edmond," he cried cheerily, "the grass has not grown under your feet! I did not expect you until to-morrow, at the earliest."
"One does not care to linger around an empty nest," I replied moodily.
"Empty only for a short time, I hope. Do not look so astonished. I have seen your father. More than that, I have been presented to your sister. Already I am a friend of the family! I will conduct you to the house, if you wish. Come, I have plenty of leisure, and you will serve as an excellent excuse for my visit."
"How did you happen to become acquainted with my father?" I asked, as we walked along.
"In the simplest way imaginable, my dear Edmond. He called to pay his respects to the Admiral; being on duty at the time, I heard his name, and made myself known as your friend. He was eager to hear news of you, and carried me off. I met your sister, and you will not be surprised that within twenty-four hours I was repeating my visit. You see there were so many thingsto tell her about yourself," and he laughed roguishly.
"Are they depressed by what has happened?"
"Not in the least; they regard it as a trial of their faith; but here we are at the house. I fear you will not see your estimable aunt; she is an invalid, and keeps strictly to her own rooms. Ah, here is one of the servants; let him attend to your animal, and I will announce you. Your sister will fall on your neck and embrace you. Do you think it possible for us to change parts for a few minutes?"
He was still laughing and talking in his madcap way when a door opened, and my father came towards us.
"Edmond!" he cried, on seeing me, "now this is indeed bright sunshine gleaming through the dark clouds. Monsieur Bellièvre, you are doubly welcome, for your own sake and for what you bring with you!"
The memory of the pleasant evening that followed I treasured for many years. I sat beside my mother, my hand clasped in hers, telling her the story of my adventures. Jeanne was full of high spirits, while Felix was simply overflowing with wit and good-humoured drollery.
The only drawback to our enjoyment was the absence of the trusted Jacques, but even that was slight, as he was not seriously wounded, and from the household of the noble Count St. Cyr he was certain to receive every attention.
Nothing was said that evening about the visit of the troops to Le Blanc, but the next morning I had a longtalk with my father on the subject. I told him what I had learned from old Pierre, and also my suspicions concerning Etienne Cordel.
"The advocate is a scheming rogue," he said, "who bears me no goodwill because I have laughed at his pretensions to be considered our equal. He is in the pay of Monseigneur, and he has acted as a spy on those of the Religion; but, unless he heard of the affair of the letter, he could do me no harm."
"He must have heard of it from the stranger with whom we travelled," I declared. "Jacques distrusted him from the first, and believed he was one of those who attacked Devine. Did he recover?"
"Yes; he is in Rochelle, fretting and fuming at having been prevented from fulfilling his mission. But to return to our own affairs. Have you considered what this proclamation means?"
"That your life is in danger."
"A bagatelle, Edmond. It has been in danger these many years. There is something far more serious. As a traitor to the king, my estates are forfeit, and you will grow up to see another man master of the land which by right is yours. It is a heavy price for you to pay, my boy."
Now I hold it folly to pretend that this caused me no grief, but I was young and enthusiastic, and sensible enough to know that any sign of sorrow would add to my father's unhappiness. So I looked straight into his eyes and said brightly, "Others have paid a heavy price for their faith without murmuring; I am strong enough to do the same."
He held me in his arms and kissed my cheeks, saying: "Now God bless and reward you for those brave words, my son," and never before in all my life had I seen him so deeply moved.
My father had already accepted the Admiral's kind offer, so, after a few days of idleness, I began my new duties, meeting with a genial reception from my future comrades, several of whom were but a little older than myself.
Every day now some fresh note of alarm sounded. The king withdrew the privileges he had granted to those of the Religion, and from several quarters we learned that civil war in all but the name had broken out afresh. It was said, too, that the king had given command of the royal army to his brother, the Duke of Anjou, with orders to exterminate us, root and branch.
"Anjou!" laughed my comrade, "why, he is only a boy! He should be doing his lessons. Has the king provided him with a nurse?"
"Yes," I replied, "he will find Marshal Tavannes a very capable nurse."
"Oh, that is the way of it, eh? Faith, 'tis a good plan, for, see you, Edmond, if there be any glory 'twill go to Anjou, while Tavannes can take the discredit.A capital arrangement—that is, from Monseigneur's point of view!"
Meanwhile numbers of Huguenot gentlemen with their retainers were arriving at Rochelle, and our leaders were soon able to muster a respectable little army.
"Anjou must make haste if he wishes to cover himself with glory," said Felix one morning. "The Queen of Navarre will be here to-morrow, bringing four thousand Bearnese with her. They are sturdy fellows and splendid fighters."
"There is another item of news," I said. "The English queen is sending money and guns!"
"Ah," responded my comrade, "the English are stupid! Why don't they join us boldly? We are fighting for the same object, and against the same enemy. For, mark you, Edmond, our real foes are Spain and the Pope, which these English will find out one of these days! If we get beaten, it will be their turn next."
We gave the brave Queen of Navarre and her troops a right royal reception, but to me the most interesting figure in the procession was her son, Henry, on whom in the years to come the hopes of so many Frenchmen were centred. He was quite a boy, only fifteen years old, but he had a strong and capable face, full of fire and energy. His hair had a reddish tinge, his skin was brown but clear, and he had well-shaped regular features. His eyes had a sweet expression, and when he smiled his whole face lit up with animation. He sat his horse with extreme grace, and responded to the plaudits of the crowd with courtly bows.
"A gallant lad!" exclaimed Felix delightedly. "He has the makings of a soldier, and in a year or two will be a tower of strength to us."
The talk now among the younger men was of moving out from Rochelle, scattering the Royalists, marching on Paris, and dictating peace in the palace. It was astonishing how easy these things appeared to be, as we sat and gossiped idly in the Admiral's ante-chamber! Fortunately, however, our leaders, being in possession of cooler heads and clearer brains, decided otherwise, and when winter came, making a campaign impossible, we were still inside the walls.
During the autumn we were joined by a troop of English gentlemen, about a hundred strong, under the leadership of one named Henry Champernoun. They were mostly young, of good birth and family, very gallant fellows, and as eager to fight as the most headstrong of us.
With one of them—Roger Braund, a lad about the same age as Felix—we soon became very friendly. He was fair and handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and shapely features. He was tall and well made, a skilful horseman, and an astonishing master of fence. Few of us could equal him with the sword, but he was modest and unassuming, and had a genial manner, very captivating.
He was a frequent visitor at my aunt's house, where he speedily became as great a favourite as Felix. Indeed, I sometimes thought that Jeanne regarded him with even more favour. She spent much time in his company, listening to his accounts of the English Courtand of his own home, which was situated in a district called Devonshire. I think Felix was not too well pleased with this intimacy, but whatever sorrow it caused him he kept locked up in his own breast.
One evening, they started together to the house, expecting me to follow as soon as I was relieved of my duty. It was, I remember, about a half after six, when I left the hotel. The streets as usual were thronged with citizens and soldiers, who in some places almost blocked the road. In front of me was a horseman, to all appearance but newly arrived. He was proceeding at a foot pace, and evidently looking for suitable accommodation.
"A fine beast!" I thought, glancing at the animal, and then—"Surely I have seen that horse before!"
The knowledge did not come to me at once, but by degrees I remembered the early morning ride through the sleeping village of Le Blanc, and the richly-dressed cavalier with whom we had travelled some distance. I quickened my steps, and scanned the rider closely. I could not see his face well, but there could be no mistaking the alert, soldierly figure, and the short, brown curls escaping over the forehead.
"Faith, my friend," I said to myself, "the tables are turned now! One word from me, and you would be torn in pieces; but you must be a brave rascal to venture alone into Rochelle! If Anjou has many spies as fearless as you, he must be well served."
I walked close behind him, wondering what was best to be done. He was certainly a spy, who had entered the city for the purpose of searching out ourstrength and weakness. Perhaps it would be best to call a patrol, and have him arrested on the spot. I was still considering this, when he turned up a side street and dismounted before the door of an inn. An ostler led his horse to the stables, and he entered the house.
Now the fellow was so completely in my power that I had the mind to watch him a little further. Several persons were in the room, but he had taken his place at an unoccupied table in the corner, and called for the host.
"Some food and a little wine," he said, "but serve me quickly; I have important business on hand."
"Monsieur has travelled?" said the landlord, with a glance at his boots.
"Yes," he answered, "and one feels safer inside Rochelle than beyond its walls, let me tell you!"
"What is Anjou doing now, monsieur?" asked a man at one of the other tables.
"Killing," said the stranger briefly. "Rochelle will soon be able to hold all those left of the Religion."
"I vow," exclaimed an iron-featured trooper, "it makes one wonder our leaders should keep us cooped up here."
"You had better offer your opinion to the Admiral, or to Condé," said the stranger with a laugh, and he turned his attention to the food that had been set before him.
He ate and drank quickly, taking no further part in the conversation, but apparently as much at ease as if sitting at Anjou's table.
"You will require a room, monsieur?" said the host presently.
"I will pay for one, though I may not use it."
"And your horse, monsieur?"
"Will remain in the stables."
He had nearly finished his meal now, and, acting on a sudden impulse, I crossed the room and sat down opposite him. He looked up at me in a casual way, and the next instant understood he was discovered. But the man had nerves of iron; not a muscle of his face moved; only by the sudden light in his eyes did I know that he recognized me.
"The game is to me, monsieur," I said simply.
"Yes," he agreed, "the game is yours, but do not claim the stakes until I have spoken with you."
"The game is altogether finished, monsieur, and you have lost; you cannot throw again."
"A fig for the game!" he said; "you have but to raise your voice, and these bloodhounds will bury their fangs in my heart. I know that, and do not complain. I ask only a few hours' freedom."
"Surely, monsieur, in the circumstance, that is a strange request!"
"A riddle is always strange when one does not possess the key. For instance, you believe I have entered Rochelle as a spy."
"Exactly."
"And yet you are mistaken. I suppose you will laugh at my story, but I must tell it you. You know me only as an opponent."
"A clever and a daring one."
"And yet you foiled me! But that is not to the point. My name is Renaud L'Estang. My father was a gentleman, poor and without influence; I had good blood in my veins but no money in my purse. My only chance of wealth lay in my sword. I sold it to the highest bidder. In short, monsieur, I am an adventurer, no better and no worse than thousands of others."
"And in the pay of the League!"
"At present," he corrected, with a courteous inclination of the head, "in the service of the Duke of Anjou."
"Why did you attack me at Nevers?"
"To obtain possession of the letter of whose contents we were in ignorance."
"And you denounced my father to the Duke!"
"There you wrong me. I endeavoured to capture the letter; I failed, and my part in the affair was over; but again I am wandering from the point, which is to explain my presence in Rochelle. Monsieur, has it ever occurred to you that a man who earns his livelihood by his sword may have a heart the same as more innocent persons?"
"No one is without some virtue," I said.
"There is one person in the world," he continued, in low earnest tones, almost as if communing with himself, "who has all my love and affection. For her I would willingly die, or suffer the worst tortures a fiend could invent. Monsieur, there is but one person on earth who loves me and whom I love; and she is in Rochelle, lying at the point of death."
"Your wife?" I said questioningly.
"My mother!" he replied. "In her eyes, monsieur, I possess all the virtues. It is strange, is it not?" and he laughed a trifle bitterly.
"And you risked your life to comfort her before she died?"
"Bah!" he exclaimed impatiently, "what is a trifle like that? Monsieur, I never yet begged a favour, but I beg one now. Not for myself, but for her. You are young, and have a mother of your own! I shall not plead to you vainly. I tried to kill you, but you will not take your revenge on her. And I am altogether in your power."
"Yes," I said slowly, "that is true."
"You can send for a guard, but without explaining your object. They can surround the house, while I close my mother's eyes, and afterwards I am at your service. The gallows, the block, or the wheel, as your leaders direct; you will not lose much."
"No, I shall not lose much," I repeated.
Now, strangely perhaps, I felt not the slightest doubt of the man's story. His good faith was apparent in every tone and every gesture. Whatever his vices, he loved his mother with his whole heart. And he was entirely in my power! Even if he got away from me in the streets he could not leave Rochelle! I thought of my own mother, and hesitated no longer. I could not keep these two apart.
"Monsieur," I said, "for good or ill I intend to trust you. We will go together to your home, and—and afterwards you will return with me to theHôtel Coligny. If you abuse my confidence, I will leave your punishment in the hands of God, who judges Huguenot and Catholic alike. Come, let us hasten."
He made no violent protestations, but murmured brokenly: "May the blessing of a dying woman reward you!"
We passed out of the inn together, and walked briskly through the streets, until we reached a house not far from the harbour. The door was opened by a middle-aged woman who gazed at my companion in astonishment.
"Hush!" he said softly, "am I in time?"
"For the end," she answered, "only for that. Madame has already received the last rites."
The woman showed us into an empty room, where my companion laid aside his weapons.
"You do not repent of your generosity?" he asked.
"I have trusted you fully," I replied, and his face lit up with a gratified smile as he left the room, stepping noiselessly into the corridor.
The servant brought a light, and some refreshments, but they stood before me untasted. I was busy with my thoughts. The house was very still; not a sound broke the silence, not the murmur of a voice, nor the fall of a footstep. I might have been in a house of the dead.
Suddenly the door was pushed open noiselessly, and the adventurer stood before me beckoning. I rose from my seat and followed him without a word into another apartment. In the bed in the alcove a woman lay dying. She must have been beautiful in her youth, and traces of beauty still lingered on her face. Shestretched out her hands and drew my head down to hers.
"Renaud tells me you have done him a great service," she said feebly. "It is through you that he was able to come to me. A dying woman blesses you, monsieur, and surely the saints will reward you. A goodly youth! A goodly youth! May God hold you in His holy keeping! Treasure him, Renaud, my son, even to the giving of your life for his!"
Her eyes closed, she sank back exhausted, and I stole from the room. How my heart ached that night! "Treasure him, Renaud!" Poor soul! How merciful that she should die ignorant of the wretched truth! "Even to the giving of your life for his!" And his life was in my hands already! Oh, the pity, the horror of it! She called on God to bless me, and I was about to lead her only son straight from her death-bed to the executioner!
For I could not disguise from myself the fact that this man would die the death of a spy. Ambroise Devine was in Rochelle, and he would show no mercy. And, terrible as it might seem, there were those in the city who would scout the idea that Renaud L'Estang had risked his life solely to visit his dying mother. "He is a spy," they would declare hotly; "let him die a spy's death!"
"It is not my fault," I said to myself angrily; "he has lost; he must pay forfeit!"
"A dying woman blesses you, and surely the saints will reward you!" The room was filled with the words; they buzzed in my ears, and beat into my brain continually; I could not rid myself of them. "A dying woman!" Ay, perhaps a dead woman by now, and her son following swiftly as the night the day! I could have cried aloud in my agony of mind.
"It is over, monsieur."
Renaud L'Estang stood before me, his face drawn and haggard, and heavy with a great grief. He had stolen in noiselessly; his sword and pistol lay within reach of his hand; he might have killed me without effort, and saved his own life. The thought flashed into my mind, but died away instantly. From the moment when he told his story I had never once mistrusted him.
"Your mother has passed away?" I questioned in a tone of sympathy.
"She died in my arms; her last moments were full of peace. Now, I am at your service."
"You are faint," I said. "Will it not be advisable to break your fast before starting out? You will need all your strength."
"I cannot eat."
"Yet it is necessary. Pardon me if I summon your servant."
He allowed himself to be treated almost as a child, eating and drinking mechanically what was set before him, hardly conscious of my presence, unable to detach his thoughts from the sombre picture in the adjoiningapartment. At last he had finished, and I said gently, "Have you made arrangements for your mother's burial?"
"They are all made," he replied gravely.
"There is your sword," I remarked, pointing to the weapon lying on the table.
"Let it lie monsieur," he answered with a mournful smile; "a dead man has no use for a sword."
Now I may have done a very foolish thing, for this L'Estang was a daring soldier, crafty, able, and resolute. He was an enemy to be feared far more than many a general in the armies of the League. All this was well known to me, and yet I could not harden my heart against him. I had meant to denounce him to the Admiral, but at the last moment my courage failed. How could I condemn to death this man who had freely risked his life to comfort his mother's last moments?
"Monsieur," I said awkwardly, "listen to me. When I met you in the city, I jumped to the conclusion that you had come to Rochelle as a spy. You told me your story, and I believed it; but you have doubtless many enemies who will laugh at it. They will say——"
"Nothing, monsieur; I shall go to the block without words. Renaud L'Estang will find no mercy in Rochelle, and asks none."
There was no hint of bravado in his speech; it was but the expression of a man of intrepid courage and iron will.
"Once more listen," I said. "Had you come to Rochelle as a spy I should have handed you over to our troops without hesitation; but I am regarding you,not as the servant of Anjou but as a tender and loving son. I cannot have on my hands the blood of a man who has shown such affection for his mother. I propose to accompany you to the gate, and there to set you at liberty."
He stood like one suddenly stricken dumb. His limbs trembled, the muscles of his face twitched convulsively; he gazed at me with unseeing eyes.
"Monsieur," he said after a time, "I do not comprehend. Is it that you give me, Renaud L'Estang, my life? No, I must have mistaken your words."
"You have made no mistake. As far as I am concerned you are free. I ask but one thing, Renaud L'Estang. Some day you may be able to show mercy to one of your foes. Should such a time arrive, remember that once mercy was not withheld from you."
He did not speak, but motioned me with his hand to follow him. We entered the chamber of death, and he knelt reverently by the bedside. Then, in low, passionate tones, calling on the dead woman by name, he made a solemn vow that, should it ever be in his power, he would repay the debt he owed me, even at the sacrifice of life and all he held most dear.
"I must fight for my side," he said, "but no Huguenot shall ever seek quarter from me in vain."
He buckled on his sword, and we went out together in the dull grey morning. Few persons were abroad, and none presumed to question one of the Admiral's household. My companion fetched his horse from the inn, and I walked with him until we were well beyond the walls of the town.
Then I came to a halt, saying: "Here we part; now you must depend on yourself for safety."
He doffed his plumed hat. "Monsieur," he said, "the friends of Renaud L'Estang would laugh on being told he was at a loss for words; yet it is true. I cannot express my gratitude; I can but pray that I may have an opportunity of proving it. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" I replied, and when he had ridden some distance I returned thoughtfully to the city.
Felix, who was on duty at the hotel, looked at me curiously. "Where have you been?" he asked. "We expected you last night, and concluded you must have been detained on some special service. I have been wearing myself to a shadow on your account!"
I made some commonplace excuse and left him, saying I was tired and wished to sleep; for, though I did not regret my action, I could hardly refrain from doubting its wisdom.
At first the incident occupied a large portion of my thoughts, but as the days passed into weeks the memory of it wore off.
Winter had set in, and we knew the campaign would not open until the spring of the next year. It was a trying time; the cold was intense—the oldest veteran had never known such a keen frost—and much sickness broke out among the troops. The good Admiral tended them with the devotion of a father, spending himself in their service, and we of his household were kept busy from morning till night.
In spite of every care, however, our losses were enormous, and the prospect became very gloomy. Everyone looked forward with eagerness to the coming of spring.
"If the winter lasts much longer," said Roger Braund, one night when we had all met at my aunt's house, "there will be no army left."
"A little more patience," my father exclaimed smilingly; "once the campaign begins you will have no cause to complain of inaction!"
"Faith," laughed Felix, "if he rides with the Admiral, he will be regretting sometimes having left the comforts of Rochelle."
"I shall probably do that," said Roger, glancing at my sister, "even without the hard riding."
"Then you are a caitiff knight and no true soldier," I broke in hastily, for Jeanne was blushing furiously, and my comrade's face had lost its merriment; "but, really, things are becoming serious; more than a score of men have died to-day!"
"Poor fellows!" said my mother tenderly; "if those who force us into these cruel wars could only realize the misery they cause!"
"I fear, madame," remarked Roger, "that the suffering troubles them little, as long as they can gain their ends."
About a week after this conversation there were signs that our long inactivity was drawing to a close. The weather became far milder; the ice began to thaw, and it was possible for the soldiers to pass the nights in some degree of comfort. Orders were issued to the various leaders, carts were collected and filled with stores, bodies of troops marched out from the city,and preparations for the campaign were actively pushed forward.
"I really believe," said Felix one morning, "that we are about to move. Condé has issued instructions for all his followers to hold themselves in readiness, and a body of infantry left Rochelle an hour ago."
We were on duty in the Admiral's ante-chamber, and my comrade had just finished speaking when our leader, attended as usual by the Sieur de Guerchy, ascended the staircase. He glanced round at us with his kindly smile, and, clapping me lightly on the shoulder, exclaimed: "A word with you in my room, Monsieur Le Blanc."
Expecting some trifling commission, such as often fell to his gentlemen of the bodyguard, I followed him into the apartment, and stood waiting to hear his commands.
"A prudent youth, De Guerchy," he remarked to his companion, "and not without experience. He it was who brought the timely warning to Tanlay. His father is the Sieur Le Blanc."
"A gallant soldier!" said De Guerchy with decision.
"And I think the lad will follow in his father's footsteps. I am about to send him to Saint Jean d'Angely, and to Cognac," adding, with a laugh, "'tis a far less distance than to Tanlay."
"But the commission is almost as important," said De Guerchy.
"Much less dangerous though," and, turning to me, he added: "Can you carry a letter to the commandant at Cognac?"
"I will do my best, my lord."
"Then make your preparations; I shall be ready for you at the end of two hours."
I saluted and returned to the ante-chamber, where Felix, catching sight of my smiling face, exclaimed: "More good fortune, Edmond? I shall be jealous of you soon! Why do the Fates select you for their favours?"
"It is an affair of little importance," I said.
"Does it carry you away from Rochelle?"
"A short distance; but I must attend to my horse; our patron is in a hurry," and expecting that we should meet later I hurried away.
Having saddled my horse and put my pistols in order I paid a hasty visit home, though fully expecting to be back in the city within a few days. My father, however, thought my absence would be for a longer period.
"The truth is, Edmond," he said, "that the campaign has opened. Some of the troops have already started, and Coligny himself leaves the city before night. So, should you be charged with a message for him, you are not likely to return to Rochelle."
"And you?" I asked.
"I am waiting for orders, I may march with the troops, or remain here; it depends on our leaders."
My father's information put a greyer colour on the farewell; Jeanne and my mother embraced me very tenderly, and neither could altogether keep back the tell-tale tears. Still, they were very brave, and when at last I rode off, they stood at the window waving theirhandkerchiefs and smiling, though I suspect the smiles quickly faded after I disappeared from sight.
I found the hotel in a state of commotion, and Felix, who met me in the lobby, exclaimed excitedly: "It has begun, Edmond; we march almost immediately. I am just going to say good-bye to your sister. Will you be away from us long?"
"I think not. I am carrying a despatch to the commandants at Saint Jean d'Angely and Cognac. Afterwards I shall rejoin you."
"Till we meet again then," said he, hurriedly, anxious to make the most of the short time still at his disposal.
Several of our leaders besides De Guerchy were with the Admiral, and from time to time one of them came out, mounted his horse, and galloped off. Presently the door opened, and De Guerchy called me inside, where the Admiral handed me two packets.
"One for the commandant at Saint Jean d'Angely," he said, "and one for him at Cognac. From Cognac you will proceed to Angoulême, unless you meet with us on the way. I need not warn you to be prudent and vigilant, nor remind you that these despatches must not fall into the hands of an enemy. Start at once; you should reach Saint Jean d'Angely before norning."
I took the packets, placed them securely inside my doublet, and, after a last word of caution from De Guerchy, left the room. The news of the coming movement had spread throughout the town and the streets were crowded. The excitement was intense, and Iwitnessed many sad scenes; for every one understood that of the thousands who marched from Rochelle comparatively few would return.
Heavy carts, and big, clumsy guns—chiefly useful for making a noise—rumbled along; dashing cavaliers with flaunting favours bestrode their horses proudly; sturdy foot-soldiers carrying murderous pike or deadly arquebus tramped steadily onward, while weeping children and silent, white-faced women stood bowed with grief.
Even beyond the gates I found crowds of people who had come thus far, loth to say the last farewell to their dear ones; but after a while I left the throng behind, and set my horse into a canter. Now and again I overtook a body of troops, marching cheerfully, and singing their favourite hymns. They, too, were tired of inaction, and eager to plunge into the strife.
With the falling of darkness I slackened my pace, riding carefully, listening for any unusual sounds, and peering into the gloom. I had not forgotten my former adventure, but nothing untoward happened, and shortly after midnight I drew rein at the gate of the town.
"Your business?" exclaimed the officer of the guard.
"I am from Rochelle, with a despatch for your commandant."
"From the Prince?"
"From the Admiral—it is all one."
The gate was opened, and, having dismounted, I led my horse forward by the bridle.
"You have had a dark ride, monsieur."
"But a safe one," I answered, laughing. "Where isthe commandant to be found? He will not feel well pleased at being wakened from his sleep."
"Ah, you do not know him! He is like the owl, and sleeps only in the daylight. At other times he watches; he is going the rounds now, and will be with us in a few minutes. It will need a craftier leader than Anjou to take Saint Jean d'Angely by surprise! Ah, here is the commandant!"
A veteran soldier, with white moustaches, white hair, and grizzled beard! A strongly-built man of middle height, with resolute, determined face, and an air that betokened long years of command.
"A despatch from the Admiral, monsieur," I said, saluting and handing him the packet.
Tearing off the covering, he read the letter by the light of a torch, folded the paper, and put it away carefully. By his face one could not judge whether the information he had received was good or ill.
"You are from Rochelle?" he asked sharply.
"I have just ridden from there, monsieur."
"And are you returning?"
"No, monsieur. I am proceeding to Cognac."
"You have had a brisk ride, and your horse is in leed of rest. Come with me."
He conducted me to an inn, wakened the landlord, and did not leave until my horse was comfortably stabled, and preparations for a good supper were in progress. Then he said: "You will be starting early in the morning. Have a care on your journey to Cognac. Bodies of the enemy have been prowling around the district for some days."
"I thank you, monsieur. I was unaware they had ventured so far south."
"They are striking, I think, at Angoulême," he said; "I have sent a courier to Rochelle with the news. Good-night! And don't let the rascals snap you up."
The supper was an excellent one, the bed delightfully cosy and inviting, and my last thought was one of regret at having to leave it so soon. However, I turned out at the landlord's warning, made another hearty meal—these journeys were keen sharpeners of the appetite—and before the day was fairly awake had started in cheerful spirits for Cognac.
What led to the dismal disaster that overtook us at the very opening of the campaign I cannot say. Some ascribe it to the rashness of the Prince, who was certainly a very impetuous leader; but it is ill work buffeting the dead, and profitless also. And if his fiery temper did, indeed, bring about the mischance, he exerted himself as a gallant gentleman to retrieve his error.
By great good fortune, as it appeared afterwards, I had carried my despatch safely to Cognac, and was now, after spending a night in the town, riding along the bank of the Charente in the direction of Angoulême. I had not encountered any of Anjou's troopers, though at Cognac it was strongly rumoured they were in the neighbourhood.
The day was cold and somewhat cloudy, the sun shining out only at intervals, and there was a suspicion of rain in the air. Partly to restore the circulation, and partly to ease my horse—for we were ascending a hill—I had dismounted, and was walking briskly along at the animal's side.
From the brow of the hill I had a clear view of the wide plain stretching before me. Huddled together in one corner was the cluster of houses forming thevillage of Jarnac, where I intended to break my journey. Presently, however, I caught sight of something which put all thought of food and rest out of my head. A body of cavalry had halted on the plain. Some of the men were lying down, some drinking from the brook, but scouts were stationed at a distance from the main body to give warning of any hostile approach.
"This is either Anjou or Condé," I thought, "and in any case it is necessary to discover which."
Still leading my horse, I crept down the hill, and advanced some distance across the plain, ready directly danger threatened to mount and ride. As soon, however, as I drew close enough to distinguish the scouts I saw they were friends, and went on boldly.
Where was Coligny? They did not know; they had parted company with the infantry some time previously. Leaving them, I proceeded to the main body, and in passing a group of cavaliers, heard my name called by a voice I recognized as Roger Braund's.
"Why are you wandering about here?" he asked.
"Faith," I laughed, "I might put that very same question to you! Where are Coligny and the troops? I did not expect to meet with half an army."
"Say, rather, a third; we have not a gun, nor even a man to carry a pike."
"But what does it mean?"
"Perhaps that I don't understand your mode of warfare. We have been marching and countermarching for hours, with no other result as yet than wearing out our animals; but I warrant the Prince has his reasons."
"If there is a man with brains in the enemy's council," said another Englishman, "we shall rejoin our infantry only in the next world. We are scarcely fifteen hundred strong, and I heard this morning that Anjou has at least three thousand."
"Two to one," I remarked carelessly, "the Prince has fought against even heavier odds. But——"
"Mount, mount, messieurs; Anjou is advancing!"
The scouts came galloping in with their warning; the cry was repeated on all sides; men running to their horses mounted hurriedly; officers shouted commands; in an instant all was activity.
"You showed little wisdom in stumbling on us to-day," said Roger. "You would have been better off with your own leader."
"At least I make one more!"
"Yes," he replied, "and a pity too. But come along, you will ride with us, and I promise we will not disgrace you. A fair field for a charge, Edward!" addressing one of his comrades.
"I would rather it were a pitched battle," replied the other; "with our numbers we can do no more than ride them down."
"The Prince! The Prince!" cried one, and presently Condé came riding along our ranks. He had opened his helmet; his face was full of high resolve, his eyes flashed fire.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "here is the chance for which we have waited. Let us begin the campaign with a victory, and we shall finish it the sooner."
We greeted his words with a cheer; the Englishshouted "Hurrah!" which sounded strangely in our ears, and every one gripped his sword firmly. For, in spite of cheers, and of brave looks, a desperate enterprise lay before us. Monseigneur's troops were at least twice as numerous as ours, and his men were seasoned soldiers.
But Condé gave us little time for reflection. "Forward! Forward!" We rose in our stirrups, and with a ringing cheer dashed at the foe. Like a wall of rock they stood, and our front rank went down before them. We withdrew a space, and once more sprang forward, but with the same result. The din was terrific; steel clashed against steel; horses neighed, men groaned in agony, or shouted in triumph.
And presently, above the tumult, we heard Condé's voice ringing high and clear, "To me, gentlemen! To me!"
He was in the thick of the press, cutting a passage for himself, while numbers of his bodyguard toiled after him.
"To the Prince!" cried Roger Braund in stentorian tones, "or he is lost!"
We tore our way like a parcel of madmen, striking right and left in blind fury, and not pausing to parry a blow. But the enemy surged round us like waves in a storm. They hammered us in front, in the rear, on both flanks; we fell apart into groups, each group fighting strenuously for dear life.
And in the midst of the fearful struggle there rose the ominous cry, "The Prince is down!"
For an instant both sides stood still, and then RogerBraund, crying, "To the rescue!" leaped straight at those in front of him. The noble band of Englishmen followed, the battle flamed up afresh; renewed cries of "Condé! Condé!" arose, but we listened in vain for the reply of our daring general.
"The Prince is down!" ran mournfully from man to man, and though some fought on with intrepid bravery, the majority were thrown into disorder by their leader's fall.
As for myself, I know not how the latter part of the battle went. Half-stunned by a heavy blow on my helmet, I clung mechanically to my horse, who carried me out of the press. As soon as my senses returned, I drew rein and gazed across the plain. It presented a melancholy sight. Here was a little band of wearied troopers spurring hard from the scene of conflict; there a man, dismounted and wounded, staggering along painfully, while some lay in the stillness of death. They had struck their first and last blow.
The battle, if battle it could be called, was over; the victors were busy securing their prisoners; nothing more could be done, and with a heavy heart I turned reluctantly away. Removing my helmet so that the fresh air might blow upon my aching temples, I rode on, picking up a companion here and there, until at last we formed a troop some fifty strong.
Hardly a word passed between us. We were angry, and ashamed; we had met with a bitter defeat; our leader was down, and no man knew even if he lived.
"Where is the Admiral?" I asked at last of the horseman at my side; "we must find the Admiral."
"I cannot say, but it is certain that when the news reaches him he will retreat"; then he relapsed into silence.
It was a dreary journey. We wandered on aimlessly and hopelessly for hours, and night had long since fallen when, by some lucky chance, we stumbled upon our infantry. We were not the first fugitives to arrive, and the camp was full of excitement.
I made my way straight to the Admiral's tent, and was instantly admitted. Several officers were already there, eagerly discussing the news, and they plied me with anxious questions. I could, however, tell them nothing fresh, and could throw no light on the fate of the Prince.
In the midst of the interview an officer brought in a wounded trooper. He was weak and faint from loss of blood, and, gallantly as he had held himself in the fray, he hung his head shamefacedly.
"You are from Jarnac?" said Coligny kindly; "can you tell us what has happened to your general?"
Every voice was hushed; the silence became painful as we listened with straining ears for the man's reply. Steadying himself, he gave his answer, and a deep groan burst from the assembled officers.
"The Prince is dead, my lord," he said slowly.
"Dead!" echoed our leader. "Killed in the battle?"
"Murdered in cold blood after the battle, my lord!"
"How?" cried Coligny, and never had I seen his face look so stern. "Think well, my man, before speaking. This is a serious statement to make."
"But a true one, my lord. I was not a yard away when the deed was done."
"Tell us all about it," said the Admiral, "for if this be true——" but here he checked himself.
"The Prince's horse fell, my lord, and he was thrown heavily. I tried to reach him, but failed."
"'Tis plain that you made a most gallant attempt!" remarked Coligny in kindly tones.
"I was knocked down, my lord, and I suppose thought to be dead! The Prince lay a yard or so away. He had taken off his helmet, and was talking to one of the enemy's officers. I heard him say, 'D'Argence, save my life and I will give you a hundred thousand crowns!"
"And what was the answer?"
"The officer promised, my lord, but just afterwards a fresh body of soldiers came galloping to that part of the field. Then the Prince said, 'There is Monseigneur's troop; I am a dead man!'"
"And what answered D'Argence?"
"He said, 'No, my lord, cover your face, and I will yet save you.' But he had not the chance. One of Monseigneur's officers"—we learned afterwards that it was Montesquieu, the captain of the Swiss guard—"shot the Prince in the back of the head!"
"And killed him instantly?"
"He just had strength to say, 'Now I trust you are content!'" replied the trooper, "and then he fell forward dead. They wrapped his body in a sheet and carried it off the field, but I do not know where."
"There is no possible chance of your having been mistaken?"
"None, my lord."
The chaplain, stepping forward, led the trooper from the tent to give him some food, and to bind up his wounds, while every one began discussing the mournful story he had told. In the midst of the talk I slipped out, eager to assure Felix of my safety, and to learn if Roger Braund had returned.
No one in the camp thought of sleep or rest; the soldiers had gathered together in knots, asking and answering questions, while from time to time a single horseman, or half a dozen in a body, trailed wearily into the lines. I met Felix coming toward the tent, and on seeing me he ran forward hastily.
"Is it really you, Edmond?" he cried; "are you hurt? How came you to be in the fight? One of the Englishmen told me you were there. 'Tis a sorry beginning to the campaign, eh? But, after all, 'tis but one dark spot on the sun. Come to our tent and tell us what has happened. There are a thousand rumours."
"Is Roger Braund not with his comrades?" I asked.
"No; there are a good many of the English still missing, but their friends are not anxious; they have lost their way perhaps, and we shall see them in the morning."
As nothing could be done, I accompanied Felix to the tent, where a number of our comrades speedily assembled. Felix gave me food, as I had eaten nothing for hours, and then I related my story.
"On the plain of Jarnac!" exclaimed one in surprise; "what was the Prince doing there?"
"I cannot say. Remember, I came upon them by mere chance."
"'Twas stupid folly!" exclaimed the speaker. "We aren't so strong that we can afford to divide our forces. Condé's rashness will ruin everything. One would think he was a hot-headed boy!"
"If Condé was in fault, he has paid dearly for his mistake," I remarked, and was greeted by cries of "What do you mean?" "Is the Prince hurt?" "Is he a prisoner?" "Speak out, Le Blanc!"
"The Prince, gentlemen," I replied slowly, "is dead; and if my account be true, most foully murdered."
"Condé dead!" cried one, "no, no; there must be some strange mistake!"
"I fear not, monsieur!" and, while they listened in breathless silence, I repeated the story which the wounded trooper had brought from the battle-field.
"Anjou shall have cause to rue this day!" said one, speaking with deadly earnestness. "If I meet him on foot or in the saddle, in victory or in defeat, I will not leave the ground till I have plunged my sword into his heart!"
"But Anjou was not the murderer!"
"An officer of his bodyguard, you said. Do you think he acted against his master's wishes? Pshaw! I tell you, Monseigneur is as much the murderer as if his own fingers had pulled the trigger!" and the murmur of applause from all who heard showed how fully they agreed with him.
When they left the tent, to retail the circumstances of the Prince's death, I was glad to lie down. I wasstill anxious concerning my English comrade, but Felix, who was too excited to sleep, promised to bring me any information that he could gather. My head ached terribly, but I managed to sleep, and for an hour or two at least I forgot the dismal tragedy that had occurred.
The whole camp was astir in the early morning, and my comrade brought me very welcome news. Roger had arrived during the night, with about a dozen fellow-countrymen, tired out but unwounded.
"I half expected he was dead," I said; "he was in the very thickest of themêlée."
"Humph!" said Felix, "I warrant he fought with no greater bravery than Edmond Le Blanc! He is a gallant fellow enough, but you need not worship him as a hero."
I looked at my comrade with surprise, and I think he felt rather ashamed of his ungenerous speech, as he continued: "however, he is unhurt, which is the main thing. It seems we have lost quite a number of brave fellows besides Condé at Jarnac."
"I suppose the last of the stragglers are in?"
"Yes, and we strike camp almost immediately. Anjou is very kind to give us breathing time. According to our scouts, he is actually going to lay siege to Cognac."
"He will meet with a warm reception!"
"If the citizens can hold him only for a few weeks," said Felix, "all will go well. We are to be joined by strong reinforcements. The sun will shine again, Edmond."
Making my way through the camp after breakfast I came across Roger, who had Just risen from a brief sleep.
"I did not come to your tent last night," he said; "there was no need to disturb you. You are not much hurt?"
"No, but rather ashamed! We have begun badly."
"And shall therefore make a better ending," said he brightly. "Cheer up, Edmond, there is no disgrace in being beaten by twice our number. Jarnac is not the only field of battle in France."