for that indulgence of calm thought during which the heart broods over
its own griefs, and but increases them by contemplation. The first
day's march was performed without danger or difficulty; and, not a
little to the satisfaction of Charles of Montsoreau, the soldiers whom
he had raised, being bred amongst a rural population, demeaned
themselves peaceably and orderly amongst the inhabitants of the
village where they halted for the night, so that no complaint was
heard in the morning; and when they departed, many a villager was seen
shaking hands with, and bidding God speed, the acquaintance of the
evening before.
On the second day's march, which brought them to Grisolles, rumours
and reports of the band of reiters which the Duke of Guise had
mentioned began to reach their ears. The peasantry showed every sign
of rejoicing on their appearance; and as they rode through the various
villages, the young Count's horse was often surrounded by the
peasantry, giving him this report or that, and expressing a hope that
he had come to deliver them from the marauding strangers. On the third
day's march towards Montigny, more accurate information was obtained
concerning the real position and proceedings of the band of German
adventurers, who were represented as lying further down towards the
Marne, in the woods and hamlets about Gland and La Fern, intercepting
the passengers on the roads between Chateau Thierry, Epernay, and La
Ferte: the lower part of which latter town they were said to have
attacked and plundered. Manifold were the entreaties now addressed to
Charles of Montsoreau by the wealthy farmers and proprietors of that
rich tract of country to go at once against the marauders, and drive
them across the Marne. But he adhered firmly to his resolution of
obeying the Duke's orders; and after halting for some hours to refresh
his horses and men at Gandelu, he again began his march towards three
o'clock in the evening, expecting to arrive at Montigny before
nightfall.
On the whole of the road he had received no greater service from any
one than from the boy Ignati, whose light weight and arms did not
fatigue his horse so much as those of the other horsemen, and who was
constantly riding hither and thither through the country obtaining
intelligence, and bringing it rapidly to the young Count. He had left
the little village of Gandelu about a quarter of an hour before the
rest of the troop, and was not seen again for nearly an hour and a
half after it had recommenced its march. The Count had asked for him
more than once, and had become somewhat apprehensive regarding him,
when, as they were passing through the wood of Ampon, his anxiety
regarding the boy was not diminished by hearing a discharge of
fire-arms at some distance, but apparently in advance. He was relieved
on Ignati's account, however, in a moment after, by seeing him coming
at full speed through the wood in apparent excitement and alarm.
"Quick! quick, my Lord!" he cried: "down in the meadow there, the
Schwartz reiters have attacked a gallant little band just crossing a
small stream, and are driving them back towards the Marne. I saw some
ladies in a carriage, too; and they must have fallen by this time into
the hands of the enemy."
No further inducement was wanting to Charles of Montsoreau. Giving
orders to quicken his men's pace, he himself advanced at still greater
speed, till he reached the point where the road issued forth from the
wood upon the meadow, where he had at once before him, at the distance
of scarcely three hundred yards, the whole scene which the boy had
described, though it was, of course, somewhat changed in aspect during
the time which had since elapsed.
On the bank of the small stream which, flowing through a slight hollow
in the meadow, proceeded towards the Marne, was seen a party of some
thirty or forty horsemen, the greater part of them well armed, making
a gallant but ineffectual stand against a body of reiters nearly
double their number, which charged them on every side, and seemed
likely to overpower them in a few minutes. That, however, which struck
Charles of Montsoreau the most, was to see, in the very front of the
party who opposed the reiters, a man dressed in a clerical habit, who
seemed, with the utmost coolness, skill, and determination, to be
directing the movements of those around him, for the purpose of
extricating a heavy carriage which was embarrassed in the bed of the
rivulet.
The forms of the reiters passing here and there obscured the view of
his person from time to time; but Charles of Montsoreau felt sure that
his eyes could not deceive him, when they told him that there, in the
midst of the fight, was the form of his old preceptor, the Abbe de
Boisguerin. A moment after, he caught sight of his brother also, and
prepared, without the loss of an instant, to extricate the whole party
from their perilous situation.
The numbers which he brought were hardly sufficient to make his band,
even when united with that of his brother, equal numerically to that
of the reiters. But he knew that there was much in surprise; and,
though he did not exactly despise his enemy, yet he by no means looked
upon each reiter as a match for one of his own men at arms. His
troopers had followed him at all speed; and, the moment they came up,
his orders were given, the lances levelled, the spurs struck into
every horse's sides, and down the gentle slope they went, against the
flank of the enemy, with a speed and determination that proved for the
moment quite irresistible. The commander of the foreigners had
scarcely time to wheel a part of his force to receive the charge of
this new adversary, before the troops of Logeres were upon him, and,
in a moment, he was driven down the stream for nearly fifty yards.
But the marauders had one great advantage over ordinary troops.
Accustomed to fight in small parties, and even hand to hand, they were
fully as much, if not more, in their element when their ranks were
broken than when they were in a compact mass, and Charles of
Montsoreau now found that the success of his first onset by no means
dispirited them; but that, superior in numbers to his own soldiery,
they met his troopers man to man, and that a body was even detached to
pursue the carriage, which by this time had been extricated; while
neither his brother nor the Abbe de Boisguerin, embarrassed in
protecting the unarmed persons of their own party, thought it needful
to give him the slightest assistance in his contention with the
reiters.
Under these circumstances, the only thing that appeared to be left for
him to do, was to keep his men in the most perfect order, and fall
gradually back, covering his brother's band, and sending to demand his
co-operation for their mutual benefit. The reiters, however, in the
mean time, made every effort to frustrate this purpose, which they at
once divined, and by repeated charges endeavoured to break his line,
and force him to fight after their own manner. In pursuing this plan,
however, they committed the oversight of making a part of their body
cross the stream in order to take him on the flank.
With a quickness of perception, which he generally displayed in times
of difficulty and danger, he had remarked, even while in the act of
charging the enemy, that the stream higher up grew deeper, and the
banks more steep. He now saw that, by falling back a little farther
than he had at first intended, he could deal with the Germans in
separate bodies, and in all probability rout them band by band.
To do so, however, obliged him to leave his brother's party, the
carriage, and those whom he knew it contained, to struggle unassisted
with the little force which had been detached from the reiters, as
well as they might, and for a moment he remained in a state of
suspense which almost lost him the advantage. The hour, however, was
late; the shades of evening were beginning to fall: one look to the
other side of the field showed him that the first attack of the
reiters on his brother's party had been repulsed, apparently with
considerable loss, and he accordingly took his resolution, and gave
orders to retreat slowly up the stream, preparing his men, however, to
charge again the moment that he found it expedient so to do.
The reiters, thinking him defeated and intimidated, pursued him
fiercely, and those on the right bank of the stream galloped quickly
on to cut him off from a retreat by the high road. But the others
immediately in front of him were surprised, and somewhat astounded, to
find that as soon as he perceived the stream was deep enough, and the
bank was high enough--if not to prevent the other body of reiters from
crossing, at all events to embarrass and to delay them--the order was
given to the French troopers to charge, and the young Count and his
band came down upon them with a shock which scattered them before him
in an instant.
He was now, in turn, superior to that party in numbers, and knowing
that not a moment was to be lost, he exerted every energy of mind and
body. With his own hand he struck the commander from his horse, and
urging on his men with all speed, drove a number of the scattered
parties over the banks into the stream. Some escaped unhurt to the
other side, but in many instances the horses fell, and rolled over
into the water with their riders; and in the mean time terrible havoc
was going on amongst those who remained upon the bank.
The pistols and musketoons of the German soldiery had been discharged
in the first contest with his brother; but the troops of Logeres,
charging with the lance, had still their fire-arms loaded: and seeing
that the struggle with the sword might be protracted till the other
party came up, the young commander shouted loudly to his men to use
their fire-arms. His voice was heard even in the midst of the strife;
and now mingled as the two parties were with each other, the effect of
the pistol was terrible. A number of the enemy were killed and thrown
from their horses on the spot, a number were wounded, and unable to
continue the conflict, and the rest, seized with panic, were flying
amain, when the other band, seeing the error that had been committed,
endeavoured to repair it by crossing the stream and attacking Charles
of Montsoreau in the rear.
Though they succeeded in their first object, it was with difficulty
and in disorder, some choosing one place, some, not liking to venture
too far, seeking a safer passage; and heavily armed as were both
horses and men, the task was certainly one of great danger. In the
midst of the strife which he was carrying on, the young Count had not
failed to watch eagerly, from time to time, the movements of the party
on the other bank.
The body immediately opposed to him was by this time completely
routed, and in full flight; and wheeling his men to encounter the
other, he calmly brought them once more into good order, and led them
to the charge.
But the leader of the enemy in that part of the field seeing that he
had come too late, and that his men were in no condition to protract
the struggle with success, was wise enough not to attempt to play out
a losing game. Giving orders for instant retreat, he kept a firm face
to his adversary, till his men had recovered from the disorder of
crossing the water, and then marched firmly up the hill, facing round
every two or three minutes to receive the charge of the French
troopers, and not suffering his pace to be hurried, though he lost
several men as he went.
The sight, however, of a group of peasantry, watching the strife from
a part of the road above, seemed to strike the reiters, who probably
mistook them for a fresh band of soldiers, with panic and dismay.
Their leader lost all command over them; and though he was seen in
vain endeavouring to rally them, and keep them in their ranks, they
fled down the road at full speed, pursued by Charles of Montsoreau and
his band for some time, till the coming on of night rendered it
useless to protract the chase any farther.
The young officer then caused the recall to be sounded, and turned his
bridle rein towards the field where the skirmish had taken place, in
order both to ascertain what was the amount of his own loss, and to
give assistance to the wounded. He found a number of peasants on the
field; and though in all instances they were giving the tenderest care
and attention to the wounded troopers of Logeres, there was too good
reason to suspect that the knife of the boor had been employed without
mercy to end the course of any of the wounded Germans who had fallen
into their hands. Only two were found alive upon the field, and it is
probable that they owed their lives to the return of Charles of
Montsoreau.
His own loss in persons actually killed was very slight, but a number
were severely wounded; and in order to gain some assistance for these
poor men, it was necessary, of course, to proceed to the nearest town.
On inquiring what that was, the peasantry replied that none was nearer
than La Ferte sous Jouarre, and thither the young Count bent his
steps, as soon as some litters and carriages could be procured to bear
the wounded men.
CHAP. XIII.
Night had fallen heavily over the world, ere Charles of Montsoreau and
his party approached the town of La Ferte: but the moon was coming out
heavily from behind the clouds, and cast a silvery radiance over all
that part of the sky which lay behind the heights of Jouarre, throwing
out a part of the towers and pinnacles of the old abbey in clear
relief, as they rose above the shoulder of the hill.
But there were other lights in the prospect of a different hue, which
not a little puzzled Charles of Montsoreau, as he rode on at the head
of his men. What seemed to be torches, by the red and heavy glare they
gave, were seen moving about fitfully amongst the banks and vineyards
on the heights, and, in a minute or two after, a horseman passed the
young Count at full speed.
He turned suddenly from the path, however, and plunged his horse down
the banks into the neighbouring meadow, as soon as he saw the body of
men at arms; but though the young Count judged it useless to pursue
him, the faint light that was in the sky was quite sufficient to
enable him to judge that he belonged to a part of the marauding band
which had been defeated in the morning. He concluded, naturally and
rightly, that he was one of those who had followed the party of his
brother Gaspar, and had probably pursued it towards Jouarre. A moment
or two after, the sound of coming horses again met his ear; and,
ordering some of his men to advance, and cut off the way into the
meadow, he halted the rest of the troop, and waited in listening
expectation.
At the end of a few minutes, three more horsemen appeared, and dashed
into the very midst of the ambush that the young Count had laid for
them.
"Halt, and surrender!" he cried in a loud tone, ordering his men at
the same time to close round them; and the reiters, for such indeed
they were, finding escape impossible, yielded without resistance. From
them Charles of Montsoreau found that his suspicions were true, and
that they formed part of the band which had pursued his brother
towards La Ferte. He could gain no further information, however, from
the men he had taken, except that the Marquis had effected his retreat
in safety, and that a large body of armed burghers, coming out from La
Ferte, had forced the reiters to fly with all speed.
Having given the prisoners in charge to those who would not lose sight
of them, Charles of Montsoreau resumed his march; and, as his band
approached La Ferte, their trumpet sang cheerily out in the clear
night, giving notice to the citizens of the arrival of a friendly
party.
The streets were now full of horses and people, the red light of the
torches flashing upon the eager and excited countenances of those who
had taken part in the affray; and, by the glare, Charles of Montsoreau
easily distinguished the chief inn, with a number of horses held
around the door, and a group of fifteen or sixteen persons gathered
together round one, in whom he at once recognised his brother.
Perhaps Charles of Montsoreau had not any cause to be more satisfied
with that brother's conduct during the eventful day which had just
passed, than he had been with that which preceded his departure from
Montsoreau. But fraternal affection was strong at his heart, and
halting his men in the market-place, he rode up with the page and two
or three others to gratulate his brother, and ask how he fared after
the perils he had undergone. He was surprised, however, as he came
near, to see a heavy cloud lowering on the Marquis's brow, and his
eyes rolling with an expression both fierce and anxious.
"So, Charles of Montsoreau," he exclaimed in a loud harsh tone, even
before his brother could dismount, "so you have come to render an
account of your conduct this day, I trust, and to explain away the
treachery which is but too evident."
The young Count heard him with surprise, as may be well supposed; but
he saw that he was under the excitement of some strong passion, and
instantly dismounting from his horse, he walked up to his brother
through the crowd, holding out his hand, and saying, "Gaspar, you are
under some mistake. How do you fare? You shall explain to me what is
the matter within."
But the Marquis put his hand angrily by, exclaiming, "I take no hand
stained with such treachery, even though it be my brother's. I care
not who sees or who hears. I suppose, sir, you have brought the Lady
with you, whom you have contrived to rescue once more, by first
leading her into danger, that you might then deliver her from it."
"I can hardly suppose you sane, Gaspar de Montsoreau," replied his
brother at length. "What danger have I led you or any one else into?
though you say true, when you say that I have delivered you, even when
you thought fit to give me no assistance. But I ask again, What danger
have I led you into, or any one else? What is it that you mean?"
"Pshaw!" exclaimed his brother, turning away with a look of contempt,
which was very hard to bear. "You had better bring the Lady into the
house, sir, and let her take some repose; and if she be not altogether
blinded, I will take care to explain to her how all this day's
brilliant achievements have been brought about."
"In the name of God, Gaspar of Montsoreau!" exclaimed his brother, at
length, "what is it that you mean? What Lady? Where is Mademoiselle de
Clairvaut? What madness has seized upon you now?"
Gaspar of Montsoreau took a step forward, till he almost touched his
brother, and demanded in a voice that was loud, but that trembled with
passion, "Did I not see your page, that very page who is holding your
horse now--that very page, who was pointed out to me by one that knows
him well, as your bought bondsman--did I not see him--can you deny
it?--did I not see him with the reiters at the moment that they
charged down the hill upon us? And then I saw him by your side five
minutes after, when you came pretending to assist us."
"The man's mad, or drunk!" said the boy aloud; but Charles of
Montsoreau turned upon him sharply, exclaiming, "Hush! Remember, sir,
he is my brother!"
"I am sorry that he is, sir," replied the boy. "He might see me
near the reiters, but he never saw me with them, for I had been
watching them for half an hour, concealed behind a great mass of
bushes, and not daring to stir for my very life, till I saw them
begin to ride down the hill, when I came out and galloped as fast as I
could to tell my noble Lord, and bring him up to attack them.--Out
upon it!--Pretending to help any one, when there is scarcely a man in
the troop unwounded!--Out upon it!--Pretending to attack the reiters,
when he has well nigh cut them to pieces, and not left two men
together of the whole band!"
The boy spoke loud and indignantly, and at the joyful news of the
marauders being cut to pieces, a glad shout burst from the town's
people, who had gathered round, listening with no small surprise to
the dispute between the two brothers.
"For Heaven's sake, Gaspar," said Charles of Montsoreau, "govern your
feelings for a few minutes. I am here on the service of the noble Duke
of Guise, and set out from Logeres only three days ago. I had heard of
the reiters by the way, and determined to fight them if I met them.
The first moment that I saw or had any communication with them--on my
honour and on my soul!-was that when I ordered my men to level their
lances, and charge them in the flank. You have nothing to do but
either to look at the banks of the stream, where they lay by dozens,
to speak to the prisoners I have brought in, or to take one glance
into those litters and those carts that carry my own wounded, to show
you that it was no feigned strife, as you have wildly fancied, that
went on between us. And now believing this, and feeling that you have
done me wrong, tell me where is Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, for your
words alarm and agitate me concerning her? Where is she, Gaspar? I say
where is she?"
"I know not," said the Marquis, turning sullenly away, "I know not,
Charles. In the last charge of the reiters, which happened nearly at
night-fall, they drove us beyond the carriage, and I have seen no more
of her. The Abbe, however, was with her, and he has not come up
either; two or three of the men, too, were there."
"Bring up the prisoners," exclaimed Charles of Montsoreau, with a
degree of agony of mind that it is impossible to conceive. "These men
can give us information, for we took them on the road just now.--Bring
up those prisoners."
With their arms tied, and their heads uncovered, the three Germans,
who had endeavoured, as was customary with many of their bands, to
make themselves look as fierce and terrible as possible, by suffering
their hair and beards to grow in confused and tangled masses, were now
brought before the young commander; and gazing sternly upon them, he
said, "You are here not as fair and open enemies, but as plunderers
and marauders, after the generals who brought you here have retreated
from the land, and entered into a treaty with the King of this
country. Your only way, then, of obtaining any portion of mercy is, by
answering the questions I am going to ask you distinctly and truly;
for if I catch the slightest wavering or falsehood in your replies, I
will have you shot one by one within the next five minutes, as a just
punishment for the crimes that you have committed."
His words seemed to make little or no impression upon men accustomed
to the daily contemplation of death. They all seemed to understand
him, however, though it was with difficulty that they answered him in
his own language, mingling German with French, so as to render it
nearly unintelligible.
"We will tell you the truth to be sure," replied one of the men. "What
should we tell you a lie for? All that ought to be lied about you know
already; so we can do no harm by telling you the truth, and may do our
own throats harm by telling you a lie. Hundred thousand! Ask your
questions, and you shall have truth."
It was in vain, however, that Charles of Montsoreau questioned the man
sternly and strictly in regard to what had become of Marie de
Clairvaut, and those who were with her. It was evident that he knew
nothing. He admitted that they had driven the party of the Marquis
beyond the carriage, and had passed it themselves in the eagerness of
pursuit; but the sudden appearance of the armed burghers of La Ferte
had caused them, he said, to retreat in great haste, and in separate
parties. He and those who were with him had not taken the same road by
which they came, and had seen nothing of the carriage.
This information, though so scanty, afforded Charles of Montsoreau a
hope. "If the road," he exclaimed eagerly, "on which these men were
captured, is not the same on which the carriage was left, it may still
be there, and Mademoiselle de Clairvaut safe."
But his brother shook his head with an air of sullen grief and
despair. "No!" he said, "No, the carriage is not there! I have been
out myself to seek it, and have passed the spot. Not a trace of it was
to be seen, and I only returned when I heard your trumpets, believing
that you were bringing in your prize in triumph."