CHAPTER XXIIIBlenheimCompromising Papers—A Jacobite Agent—Praise from Eugene—A Contrast—Sherebiah Resigns—Foreign Ways—A Divided Command—The Duke's Day—The Field of Battle—"The Doubtful Day"—A Famous Victory—A Fugitive—Coals of Fire—A Revelation—Warnings—Silence—A Soft Impeachment—Down the RhineNever a more cordial meeting took place between friends than the meeting of Harry with Godfrey Fanshawe. The latter, with Sherebiah, rode straight for the castle, while Captain van der Werff and his dragoons swept upon the scattered forayers, exacting a terrible retribution from all within reach of their sabres. The moment when the friends met in the courtyard was too tense for speech. Buckley, weaker than the others after his imprisonment, almost sobbed; Eugene's three dragoons sat down on the flagstones and, resting their heads on their crossed arms, sought the blessed oblivion of sleep. Harry's overwrought body was all a-quiver; his trembling lips stammered out broken and inconsequent phrases; and Fanshawe wisely left him to Sherebiah's tendance.It was not till much later in the day that the story of the siege was told. Harry's fellow-officers were unstinted in their admiration of his pluck and resourcefulness. He on his side was provoked to mirth by Fanshawe's story of the methodical Colonel von Stickstoff, though he was serious enough when, turning to his friend, he thanked him earnestly for what he had done to hasten the relief.When Captain van der Werff arrived, he made a thorough search through the castle, and discovered in the cellars a large and motley collection of plunder gathered by the outlaws. There were costly church ornaments, bullion, pictures, pieces of tapestry, jewelry, arms, clothes, articles of furniture, but no plate; this, he concluded, had been melted down to avoid the risk of discovery. In the dungeon was found the shattered body of the landlord of the Zum grauen Bären, killed by the explosion engineered by his own friends. Harry could not but reflect on the nemesis which had pursued this man of crooked ways.Preparations were made in the late afternoon for riding back to the confederate camp. Many of the stricken brigands had surrendered to Captain van der Werff's dragoons, and were escorted into Urach to be dealt with by the civil authorities. At Harry's suggestion the bodies of the slain were examined by Sherebiah, to see if Aglionby was among them; but he was not recognized; it was probable that he had escaped. Before the castle was finally deserted, Aglionby's room was searched. In a wallet beneath his bed a large number of papers was found, consisting of letters, tavern bills, private memoranda, gazettes, and a parchment conferring the rank of captain in the dragoons of the Elector of Bavaria upon Ralph Aglionby, late of the Preobrashenski regiment of his imperial majesty of Muscovy.Harry looked through all these papers himself, hoping to find some clue to the inveterate animosity of Mr. Berkeley. But though he was disappointed in this, he discovered three papers which seemed to him of particular interest, and which he kept carefully apart from the others. The first was a brief note in French from Monsieur de Polignac, written from the head-quarters of Marshal Tallard, congratulating Aglionby on his commission in the Bavarian forces, and asking him to meet the writer as soon as circumstances permitted. From this Harry concluded either that Polignac had not been concerned in the attempt to drown Aglionby in the Merk, or that he was a man of consummate and unblushing duplicity.The second was a letter from Mr. Berkeley himself, written long before. The squire spoke of enclosing money, and referred to the matter of H—— R——, hoping that the captain would make a better job of this commission than with the M—— M——, by which Harry understood the name of the vessel that had carried him down the Thames. The letter continued:"I shall require of you cleare proofe of your profess'd Zeale in my service before I despatch any further Remittance. It will beseeme you to send me an Attested Copie of suchForme of Certificateas is usual in Holland. Let nothing stande in the way of this moste necessarie Document; I doubt not that among theNotable Peoplewith whom you at present consorte there will be founde arespectableAttorney to whom the Businesse may be with suretie confided."This letter left no possibility of doubt that Mr. Berkeley was prepared to stick at nothing to remove Harry; but it threw no light on his motive, and Harry was as much perplexed as ever.The third of the papers was a letter from a certain Anne Consterdine in Westminster, addressed to Aglionby at the Hague."This is to advise you", it ran, "that the Packett from M. de P—— despatch'd by the hands of the Honnest Captin came safely to my hands. The Gratification that you use to recieve will be pay'd to you at the same Place as afore. I am bid by theFriendeat St. J—— to say that besides this your Name & Services have been noted with a speciall Marke, & will berewardedwith all Rightfull Diligence when theGood Shippeyou wot of comes safe to Port."To Harry this letter was a mere enigma; it bore no special significance; but he gained enlightenment when he showed it to Fanshawe. That young man was three years older than Harry, and had moved in a more varied society."By Jove!" he exclaimed, on reading the letter, "your friend Aglionby has many irons in the fire. 'Tis clear he is a go-between, and the correspondence, being betwixt Westminster and the Hague, can mean but one thing. The 'good ship', too—what can that be but the ship that is to convey the Pretender to England to assume his father's crown? Your Aglionbys and Polignacs are Jacobites, Harry; there will be another bone to pick with them."The plunder was packed into Prince Eugene's coach; the wounded dragoons were set on horseback and taken into Urach for treatment. Then, after the destruction of what ammunition remained in the castle, Harry rode with his comrades and Eugene's three dragoons from the memorable scene, and before sundown entered the confederate camp at Gros Heppach. The news of their coming had been already spread by a man riding in advance, and their entry was made amid the clamour of thousands of shouting men and drums and fifes. In a sort of triumph Harry was escorted to head-quarters, where, in the presence of Marlborough and Eugene and officers of their staffs, he had to tell over the story of the ruse and the subsequent siege. He remembered afterwards how differently the two great generals had heard him. Prince Eugene ever and anon broke into exclamations, slapped the table, crossed and uncrossed his legs, was up and down, restless and excited. Marlborough listened throughout with the same tranquil attentiveness, scarce moving, saying never a word. When the story was ended, Eugene cried impetuously:"Ma foi, my lord, this is a lad of mettle. He has done right worthily, and merits much at our hands. For myself, I beg him to accept at once this ring; you did me a gallant service, Monsieur, and it will not displease you to wear as a token of my thanks a ring from the finger of Eugenio von Savoye.""I add my thanks to his Excellency's," said Marlborough quietly. "If I mistake not, my secretary already has your name on a list for advancement; it is a long list, but no name has more merit than yours. You will see to it, Mr. Cardonnel, that Mr. Rochester is not overlooked.""Parbleu, my lord!" exclaimed Eugene, "I am for speedier measures. The lad is an officer of Dutch dragoons, I believe. I ask for his services as aide-de-camp to myself; and, ma foi, I give him a commission in my own hussars. Monsieur, you will not object to the transfer?""Your Excellency does me too much honour," said Harry, his breath almost taken away by such good fortune."That is settled then, with my Lord Marlborough's consent?""I have no objection, your Excellency. And the young man could not be in better hands.""Then I will see your colonel, Monsieur, and the matter shall be arranged as speedily as possible."Harry felt some natural elation at this surprising change in his fortunes. He was a little amused, too, to think that this was the third time he had come under Marlborough's notice, and each time the benevolent intentions of the duke had been anticipated. He could not but contrast Prince Eugene's impetuous generosity with Marlborough's placid goodwill; it was not till long afterwards that he understood what obstacles lay in the duke's way. Marlborough was continually being pestered with applications from people of importance at home on behalf of their friends and connections; and in the then state of politics he could not afford to set aside the requests of those whose support he was so deeply concerned in retaining. Harry never had reason to doubt the kindness of Marlborough's feeling towards him, and as he gained knowledge of the complex intrigues in which the public men of those days were enmeshed, he thought of the duke without bitterness.Before many days he was gazetted captain in the Imperial service, and left his regiment to join Prince Eugene. His departure was signalized by a banquet got up by his fellow-officers, at which he was embarrassed by the many complimentary things said of him. He parted from his old comrades with regret, tempered by delight at the prospect of close service with the great general who had so highly honoured him.Since his return to camp, he had remarked a strange and unaccustomed moodiness in Sherebiah. The worthy fellow went about his duties with his usual care and punctuality, but he was abnormally silent, seldom smiled or hummed country songs as he had been wont to do, and appeared to be in a state of chronic antagonism to Max Berens, whom Harry had taken as additional servant since their adventure together. Harry affected to ignore Sherebiah's change of manner; but in reality it amused him, and he was in constant expectation of something that would bring matters to a crisis.One morning Max came to him in a state of exaltation. Prince Eugene, unwilling that a man who had worn his clothes to such good purpose should remain unrewarded, had not only presented him with the suit, but had purchased for him the Zum grauen Bären on the Urach road. Max said he was loth to leave his new master, but could not throw away so good a chance of settling in life, and added that as Mr. Rochester's Englishman apparently disliked him, the prince's gift had come most opportunely.Max had hardly left Harry's presence when Sherebiah entered. He doffed his cap and fingered it uncomfortably, his usually cheery face wearing a portentously lugubrious look."Well, Sherry, what is it?" asked Harry."Well, 'tis like this, sir. 'Tis a sayen, a' b'lieve, when in Rome do as the rum uns do. These be furren parts, and there be furren ways o' doen things. Seems like now as if I bean't no more use, and I've been a-chawen of it over, and the end on't is, I be come to axe 'ee kindly to gi' me my discharge, sir.""Indeed, Sherry! you surprise me.""You see, sir, I be nowt but a Englishman,—a poor honest Wiltshire man; you can't make a silk purse out o' a sow's ear, and nothen'll make a furrener out of a home-spun countryman.""That's true enough, Sherry, but you're right as you are.""Nay, sir, axen your pardon. True, I ha' still got a bit o' muscle, and can handle a sword featly; but I'm afeard I can't brush a coat nor fold a pair of breeches like a furrener, let alone wearen on 'em. Zooks! suppose a man do get inside of a high prince's goodly raiment, do it make un a whit the better man?—I axe 'ee that, sir. Many's the time I've seed a noble coat on a scarecrow in a turmut-field, sir."Harry remembered that of late Max had made the care of his clothes his special province."Furren ways and furreners," continued Sherebiah, "I can't abide 'em, and but for bein' a man o' peace I'd find it main hard to keep my hands off 'em, be they in prince's fine linen or their own nat'ral smalls, sir.""You don't like foreigners, eh?—Katrinka, eh?"Sherebiah was nonplussed for a moment, but recovered himself with his usual readiness."Ay, but there's a deal in the bringen up, sir. You can break a colt, and tame wild beasts, and make summat o' crabs wi' graften. Katrinka be a young wench, and teachable; bless 'ee, I've teached her how to fry a rasher and make a roly-poly; her be half Wiltshire a'ready, and sings the song o' turmut-hoein' like a bird. And 'tis my thought, sir, bein' discharged, to have our names cried and do the lifelong deed, and goo home-along and bide wi' feyther.""Well, if your mind's set on it, I suppose I must be content to lose you both."Sherebiah ceased twiddling his cap and looked startled."Both, sir!—did I rightly hear 'ee say both?""Yes, you and Max.""Hoy! be it the holy state o' matrimony wi' he too?""I shouldn't wonder. Prince Eugene has made him a present of the Zum grauen Bären inn, and he'll want a wife to help him."Sherebiah looked thoughtfully at the floor."The striplen be a good enough feller," he said slowly. "Barren his furren blood, which he couldn't help, poor soul, he bean't a bad feller. He looks uncommon spry in the prince's noble garments—ay, he do so."Sherebiah paused, and began to twiddle his cap again. Harry waited patiently."I'm a-thinken, sir, 'twould be onbecomen in a Wiltshire man to let his duty goo by, in furren parts an' all. Bean't in reason for both to take our discharge all o' a heap, and if the young man Max goos, I bides, leastways till 'ee set eyes on a plain Wiltshire man as 'ee'll fancy better.""Well, that's all right, Sherry. Now I think the best thing you can do is to go and wish Max good luck."He could not help smiling at Sherebiah's obvious relief at the turn things had taken. Sherebiah heaved a deep sigh; then, as he observed Harry's amused expression, a broad grin overspread his features, and he moved away.With the arrival of Prince Eugene the campaign entered upon a new phase. Dissimilar as they were in character and temperament, the prince and the duke at once became fast friends. Eugene not merely fell under the spell of Marlborough's personal force of character; he recognized his transcendent genius, and threw himself with enthusiasm into his plans. Unluckily, the Prince of Baden was a man of a different stamp. He was a soldier of the old school, brave as a lion, but wanting in judgment, cautious, methodical, a stickler for form. He joined the others in counsel at Gros Heppach, and being the eldest in rank expected that they would yield him the chief command. But the execution of their plan, so daringly conceived, demanded qualities he did not possess, and Marlborough had to exercise all the tact and patience of which he was so consummate a master. With much difficulty he persuaded the prince to share the command with him on alternate days, but not all his diplomacy availed to induce him to depart for the Rhine army. He insisted on remaining with Marlborough on the Danube, and Eugene had reluctantly to accept the other charge. On the 14th of June, therefore, Eugene left for Philipsburg, to watch Marshal Tallard, who was marching along the Rhine to join forces with the Elector of Bavaria. Harry accompanied him.Then began a fortnight of wearisome marching, in cold and rainy weather. The Elector of Bavaria was by this time aware that Marlborough's design was to attack him, and in order to cover his dominions and check the confederate army until the expected reinforcements reached him he sent General D'Arco to occupy the Schellenberg, a height commanding Donauworth, on the north bank of the Danube. Hearing from Eugene that Tallard and Villeroy were at Strasburg organizing these reinforcements, Marlborough decided immediately to attack the Schellenberg. It happened to be his turn of command; he knew that if the day was allowed to pass Baden would find reasons for postponing the attempt, and after a hard march he threw his weary troops upon the position and carried it with heavy loss against an obstinate defence.A diplomatic attempt to detach the Elector from his alliance with France having failed, Bavaria, now open to the confederates, was put to fire and sword. Marlborough, one of the humanest generals that ever lived, refused to allow his own forces to engage in the work of burning and pillage, and did his utmost to restrain the excesses of the German soldiery.Eugene meanwhile, having failed to prevent the junction of Tallard with Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, paid a hurried visit to Marlborough at his camp at Sandizell to concert operations against the now formidable enemy. Luckily, Prince Louis of Baden agreed to lay siege to Ingolstadt, and his colleagues were relieved of the presence of one whose captious temper was a continual stumbling-block.During Eugene's absence news reached his camp that the enemy were hastening towards Lauingen with a design to cross the Danube. Harry was despatched to Sandizell with this important information. He met the prince on the road back; the latter immediately returned to Marlborough, who decided to reinforce him, and moved his own camp to Schönefelt, nearer the Danube, in order to be able to co-operate with him should occasion arise. Late at night on Sunday, August 10, Eugene sent word to Marlborough that the enemy had crossed the river at Lauingen. Marching out at once he joined the prince, and early on Tuesday morning they went towards Hochstadt, where they intended to make their camp. On a hill two miles east of that town they caught sight of some squadrons of the enemy. Not knowing whether this was merely a reconnoitring party or the advance-guard of the main force, the two generals mounted the church tower of Dapfheim, and through their glasses saw that the whole army of the enemy was in full march in their direction, and that a camp was being marked out on the very ground chosen by themselves. They instantly determined to attack.On the north bank of the Danube, at the head of a loop of the river, lies the little village of Blindheim, or, as it was spelt by Marlborough, Blenheim. At the eastern extremity of the loop the Danube is joined by the brook Nebel, shallow and narrow, formed by many rivulets flowing from a range of wooded hills three miles to the north. In those days the ground between these various branches was an undrained swamp. The Nebel flows through two villages, Unterglau a mile above Blenheim, Oberglau three-quarters of a mile farther north.[image]Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704.Tuesday night was spent in preparation for the coming battle. At three o'clock on Wednesday morning the confederate army moved slowly out. A light mist hung over the ground, but after three hours' march they came in sight of the enemy, and the cannon opened fire while the troops deployed into line.The enemy, west of the Nebel, were in two main divisions, the right under Tallard resting on Blenheim, the left under Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria higher up the brook, occupying the villages of Oberglau and Unterglau, the rear being in the village of Lutzingen. On the confederate side, Eugene commanded the right, opposite Marsin, while Marlborough was opposed to Tallard.The confederate troops, composed of English, Germans, Dutch, and Danes, were all in the highest spirits. The victory of the Schellenberg had heartened them; they had unbounded confidence in their generals. As he mounted his horse that morning Marlborough said quietly, "This day I conquer or die," and officers and men alike caught the infection of his brave, calm spirit.The ground on which Prince Eugene's division was to be posted was broken by branches of the Nebel and became uneven as it rose towards the hills. For this reason it took the prince some time to get his men into position. Marlborough's force was earlier posted, and he occupied the interval until he should hear from Eugene that all was ready by having prayers read at the head of each regiment. About twelve o'clock a message came from Eugene that he was prepared. "Now, gentlemen, to your posts," cried Marlborough to the officers with whom he had been breakfasting. Up sprang the big Lord Cutts, deputed to open the attack on Blenheim—a gallant leader, nicknamed Salamander from his careless daring under fire. Up sprang General Churchill, and galloped off towards Unterglau, already set on fire by the cannonade. Up sprang General Lumley, hero of the cavalry charge at the Schellenberg. From brigadier to bugler, every man was determined to "conquer or die".Blenheim was filled with French, seventeen battalions of Tallard's best troops hampering each other's movements there. So strongly was the village defended that the English troops were twice compelled to retire. Marlborough's foreseeing eye marked the urgency of the moment. The enemy must be prevented from pursuing their advantage. In spite of artillery fire in flank and cavalry charges in front he got his horse across the stream and the intervening marshes. Tallard was late in meeting the movement. He allowed the first line of English to form up on his own side of the brook before he ordered a strenuous attack. Then Marlborough reinforced his lines, and having assured himself that they could hold their own, galloped to the left to see how things were faring toward Blenheim.Meanwhile on the right Eugene had fought with varying success. A dashing cavalry charge broke the enemy's front line, but from the second his horse recoiled, and he brought up his Prussian infantry to stem the tide. At Oberglau also the Prince of Holstein's division was thrown into confusion by the gallant Irish brigade, which flung itself upon the Germans with the fierce valour for which these exiles were renowned. Here, too, Marlborough's all-seeing eye marked the crisis. Galloping to the point of danger, he ordered up battalions and squadrons that had not yet been engaged, and in his turn threw the Irish into confusion.The summer afternoon was drawing on; for five hours the battle had raged, and neither side had yet gained a substantial advantage. But soon after five, having seen all his cavalry across the Nebel, the duke rode along the front, and gave orders to sound the charge. At the trumpets' blare 8000 horsemen, splendidly mounted, moved up the slope in two lines towards the enemy, first at a gentle trot, quickening their pace until it became a gallop. One slight check from the terrible fire of the French musketeers, then they swept forward irresistibly. The enemy recoiled, broke, fell into disorder, and fled, the infantry towards Hochstadt, the cavalry towards Sondersheim, on the river bank. Then was seen Tallard's fatal mistake in crowding so many men into the narrow streets of Blenheim. Catching the panic from their flying comrades, they turned hither and thither, not knowing how to find safety. Some plunged into the river, only to be borne away on its swift current and drowned. Others sought to escape towards Hochstadt, but every avenue was blocked. In rage and despair they maintained a stubborn fight until the evening dusk descended, and the hopelessness of their plight counselled surrender.At the head of his shouting cavalry Marlborough himself had chased thirty squadrons down the steep bank of the Danube to destruction. He had but just returned when he was met by an aide-de-camp with a prisoner no less notable than Marshal Tallard himself. The duke put him into his own coach, and sat down to pencil that famous note to his duchess which gave England the first tidings of this glorious victory.The victorious army bivouacked on the field, taking possession of the enemy's standing tents, with a great store of vegetables and a hundred fat oxen ready skinned for the pot.During this great action Harry had been hither and thither in all parts of the field, bearing Eugene's orders to his divisional commanders. Of the details of the fight he saw little, but was well pleased at the close of the day when the prince thanked him in the presence of his staff, and invited him to his own supper table.During the next few weeks the troops marched towards the Rhine, the duke's objective being Landau, which he hoped to take before the close of the campaign. One afternoon Harry went on in advance with Sherebiah from Langenhandel to Weissembourg, to secure quarters for Prince Eugene. His errand accomplished, he was sitting at dinner in the inn when through the open window came the sound of hubbub in the street."What is it, Sherry?" he asked."'Pears to be a crowd of Germans a-setten on to a wounded Frenchman, sir. He have his arm strapped, and——why, sakes alive! 'tis black John Simmons hisself.""Indeed!" cried Harry, rising. "Then the captain will be near at hand. Out and bring the fellow in."Sherebiah issued forth and shouldered his way through the growing crowd. When Simmons caught sight of him, his jaw dropped and he turned to make away; but Sherebiah was at his heels in a twinkling, and soon he dragged him through the throng and into the inn. The man looked even more woebegone than when Harry had last seen him, and his drawn face betokened keen suffering."Cotched again!" said Sherebiah. "Stand there afore Master Harry and speak your mind.""How come you here, Simmons?" asked Harry.The man explained that after the rout at the castle he had escaped with his master to the Elector's camp and been with the army at the battle of Blenheim. He had ridden out of the fight with Aglionby, but being wounded had fallen from his horse and been callously left to his fate by the captain. Contriving to evade capture, he had wandered from village to village, and, reaching Weissembourg, had been sheltered there by a cottager until all his money was gone. Then he was turned out neck and crop, and was being hustled out of the village when Sherebiah intervened. His wound had not been properly treated, and he was in a sorry plight.Harry could not help pitying the poor wretch whose service had been so ill-requited by his master. Properly he was a prisoner of war—one of the 13,000 who had fallen into the hands of the victors. But he was a fellow-countryman after all, and possibly had been an honest fellow until he came under Aglionby's sinister influence. Harry had not the heart to let him go to his fate."Sherry, look to his arm," he said. "Let us see what sort of a leech Jacob Spinney made of you. Then give him some food and find him a lodging."Several days passed, and Harry, in the bustle of camp life, had almost forgotten the incident, when one morning Simmons presented himself and asked to be allowed to speak a word. His arm was nearly healed, and he looked a cleaner, trimmer fellow."Ah, Simmons!" said Harry, "you're better, I see. What have you got to say?""First to thank you, sir, for your kindness, which I know I don't deserve. Sherebiah Minshull has treated me well.""I'm glad of that. Now is there anything else I can do for you?""I've been thinkin', these few days, sir, and ponderin' on my past life; and there's a thing I believe you ought to know.""Well, speak up, man.""'Tis summat I heard pass between Cap'n Aglionby and the Frenchman, sir.""That's enough: I'm not interested in the doings of your rascally employer.""But you are, sir, unless I be much mistaken. The matter concerns the French lady near Breda, and the young mistress—partickler the young mistress, sir."Harry was now all attention."Speak on then, and use few words."Simmons then related that, some few days before the battle of Blenheim, Monsieur de Polignac had come secretly into the camp and paid a visit to Aglionby. (Harry remembered the letter making the appointment he had found in the castle.) The opening of the interview had been stormy; Aglionby had accused Polignac of being a party to the attempt on his life at Breda, and at first refused to accept his assurances that he knew nothing whatever of the matter. But Polignac spoke him fairly, declaring that his connection with Mr. Berkeley had been limited to planning Aglionby's rescue from prison. The Captain's suspicions being at last lulled, Polignac opened up the subject of his visit. Of the remainder of the interview Simmons had but hazy ideas: he had listened through a hole in Aglionby's tent, and the conversation being conducted in low tones and in French, of which he had only a smattering, he had missed a good deal of it. But he had heard enough to know that the Mademoiselle of whom the two spoke was Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, and that Polignac was bargaining with Aglionby to aid him in an attempt to get possession of the young lady."One thing I heard plain, sir," said Simmons in conclusion, "and that was that the cap'n was to get a good bit o' gold when the Frenchman married the lady, and a good bit more when he came into the estates.""What estates?""That I can't tell you, sir; 'the estates' was all I heard—terreswas the word as was used.""Oh! And why do you betray your master?""Well, sir, he've led me a dog's life for years; holds over me that hangin' business on the old road; and then after I'd served him faithful leaves me to shift for myself with a bullet in my arm. I don't owe him no thanks."Harry stood in thought for a few moments."You're a Londoner, I think, Simmons?" he said at length."Ay, sir.""What trade were you bred to?""A joiner, sir.""Well, if you'll promise me to go straight back to London and work at your trade, I'll contrive to send you down the Rhine with the prisoners, and give you a little money to start you.""Thank 'ee kindly, sir!""Very well. Sherebiah shall take you to Hanau and see you safely lodged. Remember, you've your character to build up afresh. If you stick to your trade, and keep out of the way of folk who want to use you for dirty work, you may become a decent citizen yet.""On my soul I'll try, sir. 'Tisn't every one would give a poor fellow a chance, and I thank 'ee true, sir."Harry dismissed the man in Sherebiah's care. He was greatly disturbed by his news. It was clear that Polignac, having failed to win Mademoiselle de Vaudrey by fair means, and by the attempt to bring pressure to bear, so happily frustrated by Mynheer Grootz, was now determined to resort to desperate measures. Something must be done at once to put Madame de Vaudrey on her guard. He would have liked to convey the warning himself, but felt the impossibility of asking from Prince Eugene leave of absence for so long a journey until the campaign was ended. The only other means open to him was to write. Couriers were constantly going backwards and forwards between the armies and the Hague and other towns; he might avail himself of one of these to send his urgent message.Harry lost no time in putting his decision into effect. He wrote both to Madame de Vaudrey and to Mynheer Grootz, telling them that Aglionby and Polignac were scheming to abduct Mademoiselle, and also that they were in league with the Jacobites in France and England. This latter fact would give Grootz a free hand in dealing with them, even if he detected them in no overt act against Mademoiselle de Vaudrey. It was two days before Harry could send off his letters, which for greater safety he entrusted to an official despatch-rider, by permission of Prince Eugene. The post would take several days; it would be towards the end of the first week in October before a reply could be expected.Time passed away, and Harry was anxiously waiting, when, two days before the earliest date on which a letter could be received from Grootz, he was unexpectedly sent by Prince Eugene on an urgent private errand to Vienna. He was accompanied by Sherebiah, now again his constant companion. They made as much speed as possible, but nearly a month elapsed before Harry was able to report the success of his mission to the Prince, then in the confederate camp before Landau. As soon as he had seen the prince, he enquired whether a letter had arrived for him during his absence, and felt a great sense of relief when a packet was given him addressed in Grootz's big business hand.But his feeling was changed to the keenest anxiety when he found that the letter, though written more than a week after the date at which Grootz might reasonably be supposed to have received his letter, made no reference to the news he had sent, and had clearly been despatched in entire ignorance of the threatening danger. Long afterwards he learnt that the courier had been accidentally drowned in crossing a river at night, and his letters had been lost. He dreaded to think what might have happened in the interval. He wrote another urgent letter to Mynheer Grootz, and despatched it by a special messenger; but the bare possibility of a mishap alarmed him, and he could never put the subject from his thoughts. He woke at night under the pressure of his anxiety; if only he could himself go to Lindendaal to see that all was safe! But while the siege was still being prosecuted, and the prince had constant need of his services, he could not bring himself to ask for leave.His difficulty was solved for him by the prince himself. His evident preoccupation, and a slight mistake he made in noting down a message, attracted that astute gentleman's attention. He spoke to Harry on the matter; by this time they were on such terms that Harry felt no difficulty in opening his mind; and he explained that having become aware of a plot likely to injure some friends of his, and fearing that his letter of warning had miscarried, he was in considerable anxiety on their behalf."Naturally," said the prince. "Who are these friends of yours?""A French refugee lady and her daughter, Monseigneur, who live near Breda.""Ah! What is their name?""De Vaudrey, Monseigneur.""Are they relatives of yours?""No, Monseigneur.""A mere matter of friendship, eh?" The prince's eyes twinkled. "Now, my boy, confess: you are in love.""No, indeed, Monseigneur.""Well, the symptoms are not unusual. You ought to know best, of course; but in any case you had better get the matter off your mind. This weary siege cannot last more than a few days longer; we hear that the enemy are on the point of surrender; we shall go into winter quarters immediately, I suppose, and I shall be able to dispense with your services until the spring. Pack off to Breda and see your—friends, holding yourself in readiness, of course, to come back to me when summoned."Harry was too much pleased at the opportunity of assuring himself that all was well to think it necessary to make any protestation about his motives. Thanking the prince, he finished off one or two small duties and went to arrange with Sherebiah for their journey. Before he left he came across Fanshawe in camp, and, without disclosing his reasons, told him where he was going."Then will you do something for me?" asked Fanshawe eagerly. "Will you carry a letter for me? I love that girl, Harry. I can't get over it. I made a mistake last time. I ought to have known that our English ways would not answer with French ladies. I spoke to Adèle herself; I ought to have spoken to her mother. If you will take it, I will write a letter to Madame de Vaudrey asking permission to pay my addresses to her daughter; that may give me a chance; don't you think so, Harry?""I don't know," said Harry. He felt strangely unsympathetic with Fanshawe at that moment. "I will take your letter if you are not long about it: I ride for Maintz to-night.""Thanks, old fellow! Wait till you're in love; then you'll know how a fellow feels; I shall have no peace of mind till I know my fate."A few hours after this, Harry left the camp with Sherebiah, carrying the letter on which Fanshawe's fate depended. To save time he had decided to take boat at Maintz, and sail night and day down the Rhine. Ten hours later he had bought a big boat, engaged a man who knew the river, and begun his journey. With the aid of the stream and oars, and proceeding continuously, he could save a day or two on the land journey. His plan was to engage fresh crews at every important stopping-place, so as to have relays of sturdy oarsmen and to get out of them all the work of which they were capable. The Germans were naturally not so eager as himself, and grumbled a good deal at the exertions demanded of them. "Unerhört! unerhört!" was the exclamation he frequently heard from their lips. But he never relaxed his determination, and found liberal pay a ready stimulus.Thus, without mitigation of pace, the boat rushed down the river. As one after another the river-side towns were passed, Harry felt a satisfaction mingled with an impatience too great to allow of his taking much interest in the scenes. The ugly, dirty garrison town of St. Goar, the fortress of Hesse-Rheinfels, the famous Rat tower of the Hatto legend, Coblentz, Cologne, Düsseldorf, were only so many stages of his uneventful journey.CHAPTER XXIVThe Wages of SinPromenade à Berlin—A Sudden Stop—Grootz Chuckles—Place aux Dames—The Last Two Miles—Polignac Pays the Penalty—Zo!About four o'clock on a November afternoon, fine for the time of year, two horsemen rode up to the inn at Eyndhoven. Huge clouds of steam rose from their horses into the cold air; the panting of the beasts told of a forced pace. Dismounting, the riders called for refreshment and a change of horses: they were anxious to push on at once.When their hasty meal was finished, while the master was paying the bill, the man went into the inn yard and tried to enter into conversation with a servant standing there in charge of a large empty travelling carriage."Whose carriage is that?" he asked."Monsieur de Polignac's," was the surly answer.The man started slightly, but no one would have suspected anything but pure curiosity from the tone of his next question."Who is it waiting for?""Monsieur de Polignac."The reply was still more surly."The roads will be heavy for travelling. Bad enough for horsemen, worse for coaches. Maybe the gentleman is not going far?""Maybe not.""The Breda road?""What is that to you?""No offence, comrade. A man may ask a question, to pass the time. Bid you good-day!"Seeing that he was unlikely to get any further information he sauntered off, but disappeared as quickly as possible into the inn."Mounseer's coach is in yard, sir," he said quietly, "and a-waiten for Mounseer.""Ah! Are we in time, Sherry? Call the ostler."When the man appeared, Harry slipt a coin into his hand."Monsieur de Polignac is making a journey. Tell me all you know about it."The man replied that the coach had been sent to the inn two days before. Monsieur de Polignac was expected at any moment. He had recently sold his estate and was leaving for Germany. It was thought that he wished to take his departure quietly, for he had always been unpopular with his tenants, and he ran the risk of a hostile demonstration if the time of his setting out were known. He probably intended to slip secretly away from his house and make his real start from Eyndhoven. A large quantity of his baggage had passed through the town a few days before; but, strangely enough, a carter coming in had reported that Monsieur's wagons were going south, which was certainly not towards Berlin, the alleged destination. On the road they had taken there was great danger of their falling into the hands of the French, for it was not more than five or six leagues from Marshal Villeroy's lines, and Monsieur as a Huguenot refugee would meet with scant consideration from his countrymen."Has Monsieur de Polignac himself been to Eyndhoven lately?" asked Harry."No, Mynheer; the arrangements were made for him by an English officer who fought at Blenheim, where the great duke gave the French such a drubbing a few months back. He was a masterful man; gave orders that the horses were to be ready at a moment's notice and to be kept in good condition. Only this morning a messenger came with instructions for the coach to be ready by eight o'clock to-night, with a stock of wine and provisions which Monsieur will take with him."Harry was perturbed at this news. It was clear that Polignac intended to depart in haste; but whether on political grounds, having found his character as spy detected, or in pursuance of the plot hinted at by Simmons, it was impossible to know. If the latter, there was certainly not a moment to lose, and it behoved to push on with all speed to Lindendaal. Fresh horses had been waiting for some minutes. Harry and Sherebiah were soon in the saddle, and set off at a gallop along the miry road, into the gathering night.
CHAPTER XXIII
Blenheim
Compromising Papers—A Jacobite Agent—Praise from Eugene—A Contrast—Sherebiah Resigns—Foreign Ways—A Divided Command—The Duke's Day—The Field of Battle—"The Doubtful Day"—A Famous Victory—A Fugitive—Coals of Fire—A Revelation—Warnings—Silence—A Soft Impeachment—Down the Rhine
Never a more cordial meeting took place between friends than the meeting of Harry with Godfrey Fanshawe. The latter, with Sherebiah, rode straight for the castle, while Captain van der Werff and his dragoons swept upon the scattered forayers, exacting a terrible retribution from all within reach of their sabres. The moment when the friends met in the courtyard was too tense for speech. Buckley, weaker than the others after his imprisonment, almost sobbed; Eugene's three dragoons sat down on the flagstones and, resting their heads on their crossed arms, sought the blessed oblivion of sleep. Harry's overwrought body was all a-quiver; his trembling lips stammered out broken and inconsequent phrases; and Fanshawe wisely left him to Sherebiah's tendance.
It was not till much later in the day that the story of the siege was told. Harry's fellow-officers were unstinted in their admiration of his pluck and resourcefulness. He on his side was provoked to mirth by Fanshawe's story of the methodical Colonel von Stickstoff, though he was serious enough when, turning to his friend, he thanked him earnestly for what he had done to hasten the relief.
When Captain van der Werff arrived, he made a thorough search through the castle, and discovered in the cellars a large and motley collection of plunder gathered by the outlaws. There were costly church ornaments, bullion, pictures, pieces of tapestry, jewelry, arms, clothes, articles of furniture, but no plate; this, he concluded, had been melted down to avoid the risk of discovery. In the dungeon was found the shattered body of the landlord of the Zum grauen Bären, killed by the explosion engineered by his own friends. Harry could not but reflect on the nemesis which had pursued this man of crooked ways.
Preparations were made in the late afternoon for riding back to the confederate camp. Many of the stricken brigands had surrendered to Captain van der Werff's dragoons, and were escorted into Urach to be dealt with by the civil authorities. At Harry's suggestion the bodies of the slain were examined by Sherebiah, to see if Aglionby was among them; but he was not recognized; it was probable that he had escaped. Before the castle was finally deserted, Aglionby's room was searched. In a wallet beneath his bed a large number of papers was found, consisting of letters, tavern bills, private memoranda, gazettes, and a parchment conferring the rank of captain in the dragoons of the Elector of Bavaria upon Ralph Aglionby, late of the Preobrashenski regiment of his imperial majesty of Muscovy.
Harry looked through all these papers himself, hoping to find some clue to the inveterate animosity of Mr. Berkeley. But though he was disappointed in this, he discovered three papers which seemed to him of particular interest, and which he kept carefully apart from the others. The first was a brief note in French from Monsieur de Polignac, written from the head-quarters of Marshal Tallard, congratulating Aglionby on his commission in the Bavarian forces, and asking him to meet the writer as soon as circumstances permitted. From this Harry concluded either that Polignac had not been concerned in the attempt to drown Aglionby in the Merk, or that he was a man of consummate and unblushing duplicity.
The second was a letter from Mr. Berkeley himself, written long before. The squire spoke of enclosing money, and referred to the matter of H—— R——, hoping that the captain would make a better job of this commission than with the M—— M——, by which Harry understood the name of the vessel that had carried him down the Thames. The letter continued:
"I shall require of you cleare proofe of your profess'd Zeale in my service before I despatch any further Remittance. It will beseeme you to send me an Attested Copie of suchForme of Certificateas is usual in Holland. Let nothing stande in the way of this moste necessarie Document; I doubt not that among theNotable Peoplewith whom you at present consorte there will be founde arespectableAttorney to whom the Businesse may be with suretie confided."
This letter left no possibility of doubt that Mr. Berkeley was prepared to stick at nothing to remove Harry; but it threw no light on his motive, and Harry was as much perplexed as ever.
The third of the papers was a letter from a certain Anne Consterdine in Westminster, addressed to Aglionby at the Hague.
"This is to advise you", it ran, "that the Packett from M. de P—— despatch'd by the hands of the Honnest Captin came safely to my hands. The Gratification that you use to recieve will be pay'd to you at the same Place as afore. I am bid by theFriendeat St. J—— to say that besides this your Name & Services have been noted with a speciall Marke, & will berewardedwith all Rightfull Diligence when theGood Shippeyou wot of comes safe to Port."
To Harry this letter was a mere enigma; it bore no special significance; but he gained enlightenment when he showed it to Fanshawe. That young man was three years older than Harry, and had moved in a more varied society.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, on reading the letter, "your friend Aglionby has many irons in the fire. 'Tis clear he is a go-between, and the correspondence, being betwixt Westminster and the Hague, can mean but one thing. The 'good ship', too—what can that be but the ship that is to convey the Pretender to England to assume his father's crown? Your Aglionbys and Polignacs are Jacobites, Harry; there will be another bone to pick with them."
The plunder was packed into Prince Eugene's coach; the wounded dragoons were set on horseback and taken into Urach for treatment. Then, after the destruction of what ammunition remained in the castle, Harry rode with his comrades and Eugene's three dragoons from the memorable scene, and before sundown entered the confederate camp at Gros Heppach. The news of their coming had been already spread by a man riding in advance, and their entry was made amid the clamour of thousands of shouting men and drums and fifes. In a sort of triumph Harry was escorted to head-quarters, where, in the presence of Marlborough and Eugene and officers of their staffs, he had to tell over the story of the ruse and the subsequent siege. He remembered afterwards how differently the two great generals had heard him. Prince Eugene ever and anon broke into exclamations, slapped the table, crossed and uncrossed his legs, was up and down, restless and excited. Marlborough listened throughout with the same tranquil attentiveness, scarce moving, saying never a word. When the story was ended, Eugene cried impetuously:
"Ma foi, my lord, this is a lad of mettle. He has done right worthily, and merits much at our hands. For myself, I beg him to accept at once this ring; you did me a gallant service, Monsieur, and it will not displease you to wear as a token of my thanks a ring from the finger of Eugenio von Savoye."
"I add my thanks to his Excellency's," said Marlborough quietly. "If I mistake not, my secretary already has your name on a list for advancement; it is a long list, but no name has more merit than yours. You will see to it, Mr. Cardonnel, that Mr. Rochester is not overlooked."
"Parbleu, my lord!" exclaimed Eugene, "I am for speedier measures. The lad is an officer of Dutch dragoons, I believe. I ask for his services as aide-de-camp to myself; and, ma foi, I give him a commission in my own hussars. Monsieur, you will not object to the transfer?"
"Your Excellency does me too much honour," said Harry, his breath almost taken away by such good fortune.
"That is settled then, with my Lord Marlborough's consent?"
"I have no objection, your Excellency. And the young man could not be in better hands."
"Then I will see your colonel, Monsieur, and the matter shall be arranged as speedily as possible."
Harry felt some natural elation at this surprising change in his fortunes. He was a little amused, too, to think that this was the third time he had come under Marlborough's notice, and each time the benevolent intentions of the duke had been anticipated. He could not but contrast Prince Eugene's impetuous generosity with Marlborough's placid goodwill; it was not till long afterwards that he understood what obstacles lay in the duke's way. Marlborough was continually being pestered with applications from people of importance at home on behalf of their friends and connections; and in the then state of politics he could not afford to set aside the requests of those whose support he was so deeply concerned in retaining. Harry never had reason to doubt the kindness of Marlborough's feeling towards him, and as he gained knowledge of the complex intrigues in which the public men of those days were enmeshed, he thought of the duke without bitterness.
Before many days he was gazetted captain in the Imperial service, and left his regiment to join Prince Eugene. His departure was signalized by a banquet got up by his fellow-officers, at which he was embarrassed by the many complimentary things said of him. He parted from his old comrades with regret, tempered by delight at the prospect of close service with the great general who had so highly honoured him.
Since his return to camp, he had remarked a strange and unaccustomed moodiness in Sherebiah. The worthy fellow went about his duties with his usual care and punctuality, but he was abnormally silent, seldom smiled or hummed country songs as he had been wont to do, and appeared to be in a state of chronic antagonism to Max Berens, whom Harry had taken as additional servant since their adventure together. Harry affected to ignore Sherebiah's change of manner; but in reality it amused him, and he was in constant expectation of something that would bring matters to a crisis.
One morning Max came to him in a state of exaltation. Prince Eugene, unwilling that a man who had worn his clothes to such good purpose should remain unrewarded, had not only presented him with the suit, but had purchased for him the Zum grauen Bären on the Urach road. Max said he was loth to leave his new master, but could not throw away so good a chance of settling in life, and added that as Mr. Rochester's Englishman apparently disliked him, the prince's gift had come most opportunely.
Max had hardly left Harry's presence when Sherebiah entered. He doffed his cap and fingered it uncomfortably, his usually cheery face wearing a portentously lugubrious look.
"Well, Sherry, what is it?" asked Harry.
"Well, 'tis like this, sir. 'Tis a sayen, a' b'lieve, when in Rome do as the rum uns do. These be furren parts, and there be furren ways o' doen things. Seems like now as if I bean't no more use, and I've been a-chawen of it over, and the end on't is, I be come to axe 'ee kindly to gi' me my discharge, sir."
"Indeed, Sherry! you surprise me."
"You see, sir, I be nowt but a Englishman,—a poor honest Wiltshire man; you can't make a silk purse out o' a sow's ear, and nothen'll make a furrener out of a home-spun countryman."
"That's true enough, Sherry, but you're right as you are."
"Nay, sir, axen your pardon. True, I ha' still got a bit o' muscle, and can handle a sword featly; but I'm afeard I can't brush a coat nor fold a pair of breeches like a furrener, let alone wearen on 'em. Zooks! suppose a man do get inside of a high prince's goodly raiment, do it make un a whit the better man?—I axe 'ee that, sir. Many's the time I've seed a noble coat on a scarecrow in a turmut-field, sir."
Harry remembered that of late Max had made the care of his clothes his special province.
"Furren ways and furreners," continued Sherebiah, "I can't abide 'em, and but for bein' a man o' peace I'd find it main hard to keep my hands off 'em, be they in prince's fine linen or their own nat'ral smalls, sir."
"You don't like foreigners, eh?—Katrinka, eh?"
Sherebiah was nonplussed for a moment, but recovered himself with his usual readiness.
"Ay, but there's a deal in the bringen up, sir. You can break a colt, and tame wild beasts, and make summat o' crabs wi' graften. Katrinka be a young wench, and teachable; bless 'ee, I've teached her how to fry a rasher and make a roly-poly; her be half Wiltshire a'ready, and sings the song o' turmut-hoein' like a bird. And 'tis my thought, sir, bein' discharged, to have our names cried and do the lifelong deed, and goo home-along and bide wi' feyther."
"Well, if your mind's set on it, I suppose I must be content to lose you both."
Sherebiah ceased twiddling his cap and looked startled.
"Both, sir!—did I rightly hear 'ee say both?"
"Yes, you and Max."
"Hoy! be it the holy state o' matrimony wi' he too?"
"I shouldn't wonder. Prince Eugene has made him a present of the Zum grauen Bären inn, and he'll want a wife to help him."
Sherebiah looked thoughtfully at the floor.
"The striplen be a good enough feller," he said slowly. "Barren his furren blood, which he couldn't help, poor soul, he bean't a bad feller. He looks uncommon spry in the prince's noble garments—ay, he do so."
Sherebiah paused, and began to twiddle his cap again. Harry waited patiently.
"I'm a-thinken, sir, 'twould be onbecomen in a Wiltshire man to let his duty goo by, in furren parts an' all. Bean't in reason for both to take our discharge all o' a heap, and if the young man Max goos, I bides, leastways till 'ee set eyes on a plain Wiltshire man as 'ee'll fancy better."
"Well, that's all right, Sherry. Now I think the best thing you can do is to go and wish Max good luck."
He could not help smiling at Sherebiah's obvious relief at the turn things had taken. Sherebiah heaved a deep sigh; then, as he observed Harry's amused expression, a broad grin overspread his features, and he moved away.
With the arrival of Prince Eugene the campaign entered upon a new phase. Dissimilar as they were in character and temperament, the prince and the duke at once became fast friends. Eugene not merely fell under the spell of Marlborough's personal force of character; he recognized his transcendent genius, and threw himself with enthusiasm into his plans. Unluckily, the Prince of Baden was a man of a different stamp. He was a soldier of the old school, brave as a lion, but wanting in judgment, cautious, methodical, a stickler for form. He joined the others in counsel at Gros Heppach, and being the eldest in rank expected that they would yield him the chief command. But the execution of their plan, so daringly conceived, demanded qualities he did not possess, and Marlborough had to exercise all the tact and patience of which he was so consummate a master. With much difficulty he persuaded the prince to share the command with him on alternate days, but not all his diplomacy availed to induce him to depart for the Rhine army. He insisted on remaining with Marlborough on the Danube, and Eugene had reluctantly to accept the other charge. On the 14th of June, therefore, Eugene left for Philipsburg, to watch Marshal Tallard, who was marching along the Rhine to join forces with the Elector of Bavaria. Harry accompanied him.
Then began a fortnight of wearisome marching, in cold and rainy weather. The Elector of Bavaria was by this time aware that Marlborough's design was to attack him, and in order to cover his dominions and check the confederate army until the expected reinforcements reached him he sent General D'Arco to occupy the Schellenberg, a height commanding Donauworth, on the north bank of the Danube. Hearing from Eugene that Tallard and Villeroy were at Strasburg organizing these reinforcements, Marlborough decided immediately to attack the Schellenberg. It happened to be his turn of command; he knew that if the day was allowed to pass Baden would find reasons for postponing the attempt, and after a hard march he threw his weary troops upon the position and carried it with heavy loss against an obstinate defence.
A diplomatic attempt to detach the Elector from his alliance with France having failed, Bavaria, now open to the confederates, was put to fire and sword. Marlborough, one of the humanest generals that ever lived, refused to allow his own forces to engage in the work of burning and pillage, and did his utmost to restrain the excesses of the German soldiery.
Eugene meanwhile, having failed to prevent the junction of Tallard with Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, paid a hurried visit to Marlborough at his camp at Sandizell to concert operations against the now formidable enemy. Luckily, Prince Louis of Baden agreed to lay siege to Ingolstadt, and his colleagues were relieved of the presence of one whose captious temper was a continual stumbling-block.
During Eugene's absence news reached his camp that the enemy were hastening towards Lauingen with a design to cross the Danube. Harry was despatched to Sandizell with this important information. He met the prince on the road back; the latter immediately returned to Marlborough, who decided to reinforce him, and moved his own camp to Schönefelt, nearer the Danube, in order to be able to co-operate with him should occasion arise. Late at night on Sunday, August 10, Eugene sent word to Marlborough that the enemy had crossed the river at Lauingen. Marching out at once he joined the prince, and early on Tuesday morning they went towards Hochstadt, where they intended to make their camp. On a hill two miles east of that town they caught sight of some squadrons of the enemy. Not knowing whether this was merely a reconnoitring party or the advance-guard of the main force, the two generals mounted the church tower of Dapfheim, and through their glasses saw that the whole army of the enemy was in full march in their direction, and that a camp was being marked out on the very ground chosen by themselves. They instantly determined to attack.
On the north bank of the Danube, at the head of a loop of the river, lies the little village of Blindheim, or, as it was spelt by Marlborough, Blenheim. At the eastern extremity of the loop the Danube is joined by the brook Nebel, shallow and narrow, formed by many rivulets flowing from a range of wooded hills three miles to the north. In those days the ground between these various branches was an undrained swamp. The Nebel flows through two villages, Unterglau a mile above Blenheim, Oberglau three-quarters of a mile farther north.
[image]Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704.
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Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704.
Tuesday night was spent in preparation for the coming battle. At three o'clock on Wednesday morning the confederate army moved slowly out. A light mist hung over the ground, but after three hours' march they came in sight of the enemy, and the cannon opened fire while the troops deployed into line.
The enemy, west of the Nebel, were in two main divisions, the right under Tallard resting on Blenheim, the left under Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria higher up the brook, occupying the villages of Oberglau and Unterglau, the rear being in the village of Lutzingen. On the confederate side, Eugene commanded the right, opposite Marsin, while Marlborough was opposed to Tallard.
The confederate troops, composed of English, Germans, Dutch, and Danes, were all in the highest spirits. The victory of the Schellenberg had heartened them; they had unbounded confidence in their generals. As he mounted his horse that morning Marlborough said quietly, "This day I conquer or die," and officers and men alike caught the infection of his brave, calm spirit.
The ground on which Prince Eugene's division was to be posted was broken by branches of the Nebel and became uneven as it rose towards the hills. For this reason it took the prince some time to get his men into position. Marlborough's force was earlier posted, and he occupied the interval until he should hear from Eugene that all was ready by having prayers read at the head of each regiment. About twelve o'clock a message came from Eugene that he was prepared. "Now, gentlemen, to your posts," cried Marlborough to the officers with whom he had been breakfasting. Up sprang the big Lord Cutts, deputed to open the attack on Blenheim—a gallant leader, nicknamed Salamander from his careless daring under fire. Up sprang General Churchill, and galloped off towards Unterglau, already set on fire by the cannonade. Up sprang General Lumley, hero of the cavalry charge at the Schellenberg. From brigadier to bugler, every man was determined to "conquer or die".
Blenheim was filled with French, seventeen battalions of Tallard's best troops hampering each other's movements there. So strongly was the village defended that the English troops were twice compelled to retire. Marlborough's foreseeing eye marked the urgency of the moment. The enemy must be prevented from pursuing their advantage. In spite of artillery fire in flank and cavalry charges in front he got his horse across the stream and the intervening marshes. Tallard was late in meeting the movement. He allowed the first line of English to form up on his own side of the brook before he ordered a strenuous attack. Then Marlborough reinforced his lines, and having assured himself that they could hold their own, galloped to the left to see how things were faring toward Blenheim.
Meanwhile on the right Eugene had fought with varying success. A dashing cavalry charge broke the enemy's front line, but from the second his horse recoiled, and he brought up his Prussian infantry to stem the tide. At Oberglau also the Prince of Holstein's division was thrown into confusion by the gallant Irish brigade, which flung itself upon the Germans with the fierce valour for which these exiles were renowned. Here, too, Marlborough's all-seeing eye marked the crisis. Galloping to the point of danger, he ordered up battalions and squadrons that had not yet been engaged, and in his turn threw the Irish into confusion.
The summer afternoon was drawing on; for five hours the battle had raged, and neither side had yet gained a substantial advantage. But soon after five, having seen all his cavalry across the Nebel, the duke rode along the front, and gave orders to sound the charge. At the trumpets' blare 8000 horsemen, splendidly mounted, moved up the slope in two lines towards the enemy, first at a gentle trot, quickening their pace until it became a gallop. One slight check from the terrible fire of the French musketeers, then they swept forward irresistibly. The enemy recoiled, broke, fell into disorder, and fled, the infantry towards Hochstadt, the cavalry towards Sondersheim, on the river bank. Then was seen Tallard's fatal mistake in crowding so many men into the narrow streets of Blenheim. Catching the panic from their flying comrades, they turned hither and thither, not knowing how to find safety. Some plunged into the river, only to be borne away on its swift current and drowned. Others sought to escape towards Hochstadt, but every avenue was blocked. In rage and despair they maintained a stubborn fight until the evening dusk descended, and the hopelessness of their plight counselled surrender.
At the head of his shouting cavalry Marlborough himself had chased thirty squadrons down the steep bank of the Danube to destruction. He had but just returned when he was met by an aide-de-camp with a prisoner no less notable than Marshal Tallard himself. The duke put him into his own coach, and sat down to pencil that famous note to his duchess which gave England the first tidings of this glorious victory.
The victorious army bivouacked on the field, taking possession of the enemy's standing tents, with a great store of vegetables and a hundred fat oxen ready skinned for the pot.
During this great action Harry had been hither and thither in all parts of the field, bearing Eugene's orders to his divisional commanders. Of the details of the fight he saw little, but was well pleased at the close of the day when the prince thanked him in the presence of his staff, and invited him to his own supper table.
During the next few weeks the troops marched towards the Rhine, the duke's objective being Landau, which he hoped to take before the close of the campaign. One afternoon Harry went on in advance with Sherebiah from Langenhandel to Weissembourg, to secure quarters for Prince Eugene. His errand accomplished, he was sitting at dinner in the inn when through the open window came the sound of hubbub in the street.
"What is it, Sherry?" he asked.
"'Pears to be a crowd of Germans a-setten on to a wounded Frenchman, sir. He have his arm strapped, and——why, sakes alive! 'tis black John Simmons hisself."
"Indeed!" cried Harry, rising. "Then the captain will be near at hand. Out and bring the fellow in."
Sherebiah issued forth and shouldered his way through the growing crowd. When Simmons caught sight of him, his jaw dropped and he turned to make away; but Sherebiah was at his heels in a twinkling, and soon he dragged him through the throng and into the inn. The man looked even more woebegone than when Harry had last seen him, and his drawn face betokened keen suffering.
"Cotched again!" said Sherebiah. "Stand there afore Master Harry and speak your mind."
"How come you here, Simmons?" asked Harry.
The man explained that after the rout at the castle he had escaped with his master to the Elector's camp and been with the army at the battle of Blenheim. He had ridden out of the fight with Aglionby, but being wounded had fallen from his horse and been callously left to his fate by the captain. Contriving to evade capture, he had wandered from village to village, and, reaching Weissembourg, had been sheltered there by a cottager until all his money was gone. Then he was turned out neck and crop, and was being hustled out of the village when Sherebiah intervened. His wound had not been properly treated, and he was in a sorry plight.
Harry could not help pitying the poor wretch whose service had been so ill-requited by his master. Properly he was a prisoner of war—one of the 13,000 who had fallen into the hands of the victors. But he was a fellow-countryman after all, and possibly had been an honest fellow until he came under Aglionby's sinister influence. Harry had not the heart to let him go to his fate.
"Sherry, look to his arm," he said. "Let us see what sort of a leech Jacob Spinney made of you. Then give him some food and find him a lodging."
Several days passed, and Harry, in the bustle of camp life, had almost forgotten the incident, when one morning Simmons presented himself and asked to be allowed to speak a word. His arm was nearly healed, and he looked a cleaner, trimmer fellow.
"Ah, Simmons!" said Harry, "you're better, I see. What have you got to say?"
"First to thank you, sir, for your kindness, which I know I don't deserve. Sherebiah Minshull has treated me well."
"I'm glad of that. Now is there anything else I can do for you?"
"I've been thinkin', these few days, sir, and ponderin' on my past life; and there's a thing I believe you ought to know."
"Well, speak up, man."
"'Tis summat I heard pass between Cap'n Aglionby and the Frenchman, sir."
"That's enough: I'm not interested in the doings of your rascally employer."
"But you are, sir, unless I be much mistaken. The matter concerns the French lady near Breda, and the young mistress—partickler the young mistress, sir."
Harry was now all attention.
"Speak on then, and use few words."
Simmons then related that, some few days before the battle of Blenheim, Monsieur de Polignac had come secretly into the camp and paid a visit to Aglionby. (Harry remembered the letter making the appointment he had found in the castle.) The opening of the interview had been stormy; Aglionby had accused Polignac of being a party to the attempt on his life at Breda, and at first refused to accept his assurances that he knew nothing whatever of the matter. But Polignac spoke him fairly, declaring that his connection with Mr. Berkeley had been limited to planning Aglionby's rescue from prison. The Captain's suspicions being at last lulled, Polignac opened up the subject of his visit. Of the remainder of the interview Simmons had but hazy ideas: he had listened through a hole in Aglionby's tent, and the conversation being conducted in low tones and in French, of which he had only a smattering, he had missed a good deal of it. But he had heard enough to know that the Mademoiselle of whom the two spoke was Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, and that Polignac was bargaining with Aglionby to aid him in an attempt to get possession of the young lady.
"One thing I heard plain, sir," said Simmons in conclusion, "and that was that the cap'n was to get a good bit o' gold when the Frenchman married the lady, and a good bit more when he came into the estates."
"What estates?"
"That I can't tell you, sir; 'the estates' was all I heard—terreswas the word as was used."
"Oh! And why do you betray your master?"
"Well, sir, he've led me a dog's life for years; holds over me that hangin' business on the old road; and then after I'd served him faithful leaves me to shift for myself with a bullet in my arm. I don't owe him no thanks."
Harry stood in thought for a few moments.
"You're a Londoner, I think, Simmons?" he said at length.
"Ay, sir."
"What trade were you bred to?"
"A joiner, sir."
"Well, if you'll promise me to go straight back to London and work at your trade, I'll contrive to send you down the Rhine with the prisoners, and give you a little money to start you."
"Thank 'ee kindly, sir!"
"Very well. Sherebiah shall take you to Hanau and see you safely lodged. Remember, you've your character to build up afresh. If you stick to your trade, and keep out of the way of folk who want to use you for dirty work, you may become a decent citizen yet."
"On my soul I'll try, sir. 'Tisn't every one would give a poor fellow a chance, and I thank 'ee true, sir."
Harry dismissed the man in Sherebiah's care. He was greatly disturbed by his news. It was clear that Polignac, having failed to win Mademoiselle de Vaudrey by fair means, and by the attempt to bring pressure to bear, so happily frustrated by Mynheer Grootz, was now determined to resort to desperate measures. Something must be done at once to put Madame de Vaudrey on her guard. He would have liked to convey the warning himself, but felt the impossibility of asking from Prince Eugene leave of absence for so long a journey until the campaign was ended. The only other means open to him was to write. Couriers were constantly going backwards and forwards between the armies and the Hague and other towns; he might avail himself of one of these to send his urgent message.
Harry lost no time in putting his decision into effect. He wrote both to Madame de Vaudrey and to Mynheer Grootz, telling them that Aglionby and Polignac were scheming to abduct Mademoiselle, and also that they were in league with the Jacobites in France and England. This latter fact would give Grootz a free hand in dealing with them, even if he detected them in no overt act against Mademoiselle de Vaudrey. It was two days before Harry could send off his letters, which for greater safety he entrusted to an official despatch-rider, by permission of Prince Eugene. The post would take several days; it would be towards the end of the first week in October before a reply could be expected.
Time passed away, and Harry was anxiously waiting, when, two days before the earliest date on which a letter could be received from Grootz, he was unexpectedly sent by Prince Eugene on an urgent private errand to Vienna. He was accompanied by Sherebiah, now again his constant companion. They made as much speed as possible, but nearly a month elapsed before Harry was able to report the success of his mission to the Prince, then in the confederate camp before Landau. As soon as he had seen the prince, he enquired whether a letter had arrived for him during his absence, and felt a great sense of relief when a packet was given him addressed in Grootz's big business hand.
But his feeling was changed to the keenest anxiety when he found that the letter, though written more than a week after the date at which Grootz might reasonably be supposed to have received his letter, made no reference to the news he had sent, and had clearly been despatched in entire ignorance of the threatening danger. Long afterwards he learnt that the courier had been accidentally drowned in crossing a river at night, and his letters had been lost. He dreaded to think what might have happened in the interval. He wrote another urgent letter to Mynheer Grootz, and despatched it by a special messenger; but the bare possibility of a mishap alarmed him, and he could never put the subject from his thoughts. He woke at night under the pressure of his anxiety; if only he could himself go to Lindendaal to see that all was safe! But while the siege was still being prosecuted, and the prince had constant need of his services, he could not bring himself to ask for leave.
His difficulty was solved for him by the prince himself. His evident preoccupation, and a slight mistake he made in noting down a message, attracted that astute gentleman's attention. He spoke to Harry on the matter; by this time they were on such terms that Harry felt no difficulty in opening his mind; and he explained that having become aware of a plot likely to injure some friends of his, and fearing that his letter of warning had miscarried, he was in considerable anxiety on their behalf.
"Naturally," said the prince. "Who are these friends of yours?"
"A French refugee lady and her daughter, Monseigneur, who live near Breda."
"Ah! What is their name?"
"De Vaudrey, Monseigneur."
"Are they relatives of yours?"
"No, Monseigneur."
"A mere matter of friendship, eh?" The prince's eyes twinkled. "Now, my boy, confess: you are in love."
"No, indeed, Monseigneur."
"Well, the symptoms are not unusual. You ought to know best, of course; but in any case you had better get the matter off your mind. This weary siege cannot last more than a few days longer; we hear that the enemy are on the point of surrender; we shall go into winter quarters immediately, I suppose, and I shall be able to dispense with your services until the spring. Pack off to Breda and see your—friends, holding yourself in readiness, of course, to come back to me when summoned."
Harry was too much pleased at the opportunity of assuring himself that all was well to think it necessary to make any protestation about his motives. Thanking the prince, he finished off one or two small duties and went to arrange with Sherebiah for their journey. Before he left he came across Fanshawe in camp, and, without disclosing his reasons, told him where he was going.
"Then will you do something for me?" asked Fanshawe eagerly. "Will you carry a letter for me? I love that girl, Harry. I can't get over it. I made a mistake last time. I ought to have known that our English ways would not answer with French ladies. I spoke to Adèle herself; I ought to have spoken to her mother. If you will take it, I will write a letter to Madame de Vaudrey asking permission to pay my addresses to her daughter; that may give me a chance; don't you think so, Harry?"
"I don't know," said Harry. He felt strangely unsympathetic with Fanshawe at that moment. "I will take your letter if you are not long about it: I ride for Maintz to-night."
"Thanks, old fellow! Wait till you're in love; then you'll know how a fellow feels; I shall have no peace of mind till I know my fate."
A few hours after this, Harry left the camp with Sherebiah, carrying the letter on which Fanshawe's fate depended. To save time he had decided to take boat at Maintz, and sail night and day down the Rhine. Ten hours later he had bought a big boat, engaged a man who knew the river, and begun his journey. With the aid of the stream and oars, and proceeding continuously, he could save a day or two on the land journey. His plan was to engage fresh crews at every important stopping-place, so as to have relays of sturdy oarsmen and to get out of them all the work of which they were capable. The Germans were naturally not so eager as himself, and grumbled a good deal at the exertions demanded of them. "Unerhört! unerhört!" was the exclamation he frequently heard from their lips. But he never relaxed his determination, and found liberal pay a ready stimulus.
Thus, without mitigation of pace, the boat rushed down the river. As one after another the river-side towns were passed, Harry felt a satisfaction mingled with an impatience too great to allow of his taking much interest in the scenes. The ugly, dirty garrison town of St. Goar, the fortress of Hesse-Rheinfels, the famous Rat tower of the Hatto legend, Coblentz, Cologne, Düsseldorf, were only so many stages of his uneventful journey.
CHAPTER XXIV
The Wages of Sin
Promenade à Berlin—A Sudden Stop—Grootz Chuckles—Place aux Dames—The Last Two Miles—Polignac Pays the Penalty—Zo!
About four o'clock on a November afternoon, fine for the time of year, two horsemen rode up to the inn at Eyndhoven. Huge clouds of steam rose from their horses into the cold air; the panting of the beasts told of a forced pace. Dismounting, the riders called for refreshment and a change of horses: they were anxious to push on at once.
When their hasty meal was finished, while the master was paying the bill, the man went into the inn yard and tried to enter into conversation with a servant standing there in charge of a large empty travelling carriage.
"Whose carriage is that?" he asked.
"Monsieur de Polignac's," was the surly answer.
The man started slightly, but no one would have suspected anything but pure curiosity from the tone of his next question.
"Who is it waiting for?"
"Monsieur de Polignac."
The reply was still more surly.
"The roads will be heavy for travelling. Bad enough for horsemen, worse for coaches. Maybe the gentleman is not going far?"
"Maybe not."
"The Breda road?"
"What is that to you?"
"No offence, comrade. A man may ask a question, to pass the time. Bid you good-day!"
Seeing that he was unlikely to get any further information he sauntered off, but disappeared as quickly as possible into the inn.
"Mounseer's coach is in yard, sir," he said quietly, "and a-waiten for Mounseer."
"Ah! Are we in time, Sherry? Call the ostler."
When the man appeared, Harry slipt a coin into his hand.
"Monsieur de Polignac is making a journey. Tell me all you know about it."
The man replied that the coach had been sent to the inn two days before. Monsieur de Polignac was expected at any moment. He had recently sold his estate and was leaving for Germany. It was thought that he wished to take his departure quietly, for he had always been unpopular with his tenants, and he ran the risk of a hostile demonstration if the time of his setting out were known. He probably intended to slip secretly away from his house and make his real start from Eyndhoven. A large quantity of his baggage had passed through the town a few days before; but, strangely enough, a carter coming in had reported that Monsieur's wagons were going south, which was certainly not towards Berlin, the alleged destination. On the road they had taken there was great danger of their falling into the hands of the French, for it was not more than five or six leagues from Marshal Villeroy's lines, and Monsieur as a Huguenot refugee would meet with scant consideration from his countrymen.
"Has Monsieur de Polignac himself been to Eyndhoven lately?" asked Harry.
"No, Mynheer; the arrangements were made for him by an English officer who fought at Blenheim, where the great duke gave the French such a drubbing a few months back. He was a masterful man; gave orders that the horses were to be ready at a moment's notice and to be kept in good condition. Only this morning a messenger came with instructions for the coach to be ready by eight o'clock to-night, with a stock of wine and provisions which Monsieur will take with him."
Harry was perturbed at this news. It was clear that Polignac intended to depart in haste; but whether on political grounds, having found his character as spy detected, or in pursuance of the plot hinted at by Simmons, it was impossible to know. If the latter, there was certainly not a moment to lose, and it behoved to push on with all speed to Lindendaal. Fresh horses had been waiting for some minutes. Harry and Sherebiah were soon in the saddle, and set off at a gallop along the miry road, into the gathering night.