THE TUMULT OF AMBOISE
After the departure of the Prince de Condé, neither the king nor Mary
Stuart nor the brothers De Lorraine referred to what had just taken
place. They seemed to avoid the dangerous subject by tacit
understanding.
Minutes and hours passed away in the gloomy and restless silence of
expectation.
François II. often passed his hand across his burning brow; while Mary,
seated apart, gazed sorrowfully at the pale, thin face of her young
spouse, and furtively brushed away a tear from time to time. The
Cardinal de Lorraine was wholly intent upon the sounds to be heard
without; while Le Balafré, whose dispositions were all made, and whose
rank, as well as his office, obliged him to stay by the king's side,
seemed to chafe bitterly at his forced inaction, and every now and then
quivered with impatience and stamped upon the floor, as a fiery
war-horse chafes at the rein which restrains him.
However, the night drew to a close; the bell of the château, followed
by that on St. Florentin, struck six, then half after six. The day began
to break; and there had been no sign of an assault, no alarm given by
the sentinels.
"Well," said the king, with a sigh of relief, "I begin to believe,
Monsieur le Cardinal, that Lignières has misled your Eminence, or else
that the Huguenots have changed their minds."
"So much the worse if they have," replied Charles de Lorraine, "for we
are sure to put down the rebellion."
"Oh, no! so much the better!" exclaimed François; "for the contest of
itself would be a humiliation for royalty--"
But his sentence was yet unfinished when two shots of an arquebuse, the
signal which had been agreed upon as an alarm, were fired, and the shout
was heard, repeated from post to post along the ramparts,--
"To arms! to arms! to arms!"
"There can be no doubt that the enemy are upon us!" cried the cardinal,
turning pale in spite of himself.
The Duc de Guise rose, apparently well content, and said simply as he
saluted the king, "Sire, I shall soon be with you again," and went
hurriedly from the room.
His powerful voice could be plainly heard, giving orders in the
antechamber, when there was a second volley of arquebuses.
"You see, Sire," said the cardinal, perhaps to put his fear to shame
with the sound of his voice,--"you see that Lignières was well
informed, and only made an error of a few hours."
But the king heard him not; angrily biting his colorless lips, he had
ears only for the ever-growing noise of artillery and arquebuses.
"Even yet I can hardly believe in the possibility of such audacity!" he
muttered. "Such an outrage upon the crown--"
"Can only result in shame and abasement for the wretches, Sire,"
rejoined the cardinal.
"Alas!" returned the king, "if we may judge by the noise they make, the
Protestants are present in large force, and are scarcely afraid."
"This disturbance will be quenched at once like a fire of straw," said
Charles de Lorraine.
"It doesn't seem so, for the noise is coming nearer," replied François;
"and the fire instead of being quenched is blazing brighter, I think."
"Holy Virgin!" cried Mary Stuart, in terror; "do you hear the bullets
ringing against the walls?"
"Yet it seems to me, Madame--" stammered the cardinal. "I think, your
Majesty--As for me, I cannot see that the uproar increases any."
But his words were drowned by a fearful explosion.
"There is your answer," retorted the king, smiling bitterly, "even if
your pale and terrified face were not enough to contradict you."
"I can detect the odor of powder," cried Mary. "And oh, just hear those
piercing shrieks!"
"Better and better!" exclaimed François. "Come, come! The Reformers
have carried the walls of the town by this time, doubtless, and propose
to besiege us in the château in regular form."
"But, Sire," the cardinal stammered, shaking like a leaf, "in this
conjuncture would it not be better for your Majesty to withdraw to the
donjon? We may be sure that they will not carry that at all events."
"Who,--I?" cried the king; "hide myself from my own subjects! from
heretics! Let them come even as far as this, my good uncle,--I shall be
very glad to know to what point they will carry their insolence. You
will hear them beg us to sing a psalm or two with them in French, and to
turn our chapel of St. Florentin into a meeting-house."
"Sire, for Heaven's sake, think a little of what is prudent," said Mary.
"No," replied the king, "I propose to see this matter through to the
bitter end. I will await these faithful subjects on this spot; and by my
royal name! let one of them but fail to show me the respect that is my
due, and he shall learn whether this dagger hangs at my side for show
only!"
The minutes rolled on, and the arquebuse-firing grew more and more
brisk. The poor cardinal could no longer utter a word, and the king was
wringing his hands in helpless wrath.
"In God's name," exclaimed Mary, "will no one come to give us news? Is
the danger so pressing that no one can leave his place for an instant?"
"Ah!" said the king, quite beside himself with excitement, "this waiting
is intolerable, and anything else would be preferable to it, I think! I
know one way of ascertaining what is going on, and that is to go to the
scene of the affray myself. Monsieur le Lieutenant-General cannot refuse
to receive me as a volunteer."
François took two or three, steps toward the door, but Mary threw
herself in front of him.
"Sire," she cried, "consider! Ill as you are!"
"I no longer feel my pain," said the king. "Indignation has taken the
place of suffering."
"Wait yet a moment, Sire!" urged the cardinal. "I am sure that the
uproar is really growing fainter now. Yes, the reports are much less
frequent. Ah! here is a page, with news, no doubt."
"Sire," said the page, "I am instructed by Monsieur le Duc de Guise to
say to your Majesty that the Protestants have given way and are in full
retreat."
"At last! That is happy news!" cried the king.
"As soon as Monsieur le Lieutenant-General thinks that he can safely
leave the walls," continued the page, "he will hasten to make his report
to the king."
The page thereupon left the room.
"Well, Sire," observed the Cardinal de Lorraine, triumphantly, "was I
not right in predicting that it would be mere child's play, and that
Monsieur my illustrious and gallant brother would soon give a good
account of these singers of hymns?"
"Oh, my dear uncle," François retorted ironically, "how suddenly your
courage has returned!"
As he spoke, a second explosion was heard, much louder and more awful
than the first.
"What can that noise mean?" said the king.
"In truth, it is strange," the cardinal replied, beginning to tremble
afresh.
Fortunately his alarm did not last long. Richelieu, the captain of
arquebusiers, came in almost immediately with his face begrimed with
powder, and a bloody sword in his hand.
"Sire," Richelieu thus addressed the king, "the rebels are utterly
routed. They scarcely had time to explode a quantity of powder which
they had deposited near one of the gates, and which inflicted no damage
on us. Those who were not taken or slain recrossed the bridge and have
barricaded themselves in one of the houses in the Faubourg du
Vendômois, where we shall have an easy prey. Your Majesty may see from
this window how we will treat them."
The king ran quickly to the window, followed by the cardinal, and more
slowly by the queen.
"Yes, indeed," said he, "there they are, having their turn at being
besieged. But what is this I see? What is all the smoke pouring from the
house?"
"Sire, it has been set on fire," said the captain.
"Very good! marvellously well done!" ejaculated the cardinal. "Look,
Sire, see them leaping from the window! Two, three, four,--more, more!
Do you hear their shrieks?"
"Oh, God! the poor wretches!" cried Mary Stuart, clasping her hands.
"It seems to me," observed the king, "that I can distinguish at the head
of our troops the plume and scarf of our cousin De Condé. Is it really
he, Captain?"
"Yes, your Majesty," replied Richelieu. "He has been among us all the
time, sword in hand, fighting beside Monsieur de Guise."
"Well, Monsieur le Cardinal," said François, "you see that he did not
wait to be asked."
"He could not have afforded to, Sire!" replied Charles de Lorraine.
"Monsieur le Prince would have risked too much if he had acted otherwise
than he has."
"Oh, see!" cried Mary, repelled and fascinated at once by the horrible
spectacle without; "the flames are much more intense! the house will
fall in upon the poor wretches!"
"It has fallen!" said the king.
"Thank God, it is all over!" cried the cardinal.
"Ah, let us leave the place, Sire; it makes me ill," said Mary, drawing
the king away from the window.
"Yes," said François, "I can feel nought but pity now."
He left the cardinal standing alone at the window in great exultation;
but he soon turned away too, as he heard the voice of the Duc de Guise.
Le Balafré entered, proud and unmoved, accompanied by the Prince de
Condé, who, for his part, had much ado to hide his grief and shame.
"Sire, it is all over," said the Duc de Guise to the king; "and the
rebels have paid the penalty of their crime. I render thanks to God, who
has delivered your Majesty from this peril; for from what I have seen, I
conclude it was greater than I supposed. We have traitors among us."
"Can it be?" cried the cardinal.
"Yes," replied Le Balafré; "when they made their first assault, they
were seconded by the men-at-arms who came hither with Lamothe. They
attacked us in flank, and for a moment were masters of the town."
"That is terrible!" said Mary, pressing close to the king.
"It would have been much more so, Madame," continued the duke, "if the
rebels had also been seconded, as they hoped to be, by an attack which
Chaudieu, brother of the minister, was to make upon the Porte des Bons
Hommes."
"Did the attack fail?" asked the king.
"It did not take place, Sire. Captain Chaudieu, thank Heaven! was
delayed, and will arrive only to find his friends annihilated. Now let
him come at his leisure! he will find everything ready for him both
within and without the walls. And, to give him food for reflection, I
have ordered that twenty or thirty of his accomplices should be hanged
on top of the battlements of Amboise. The spectacle will prove a
sufficient warning to him, I fancy."
"That was well thought of!" said the cardinal.
"I thank you, my cousin," said the king to Le Balafré; "but I see that
God's merciful protection has been most bountifully shown in this
affair, since to Him alone we must attribute the confusion that
prevailed in the counsels of our enemies. Let us in the first place,
then, repair to the chapel to return thanks to Him."
"After that," said the cardinal, "we will issue orders for the
punishment of the surviving culprits. Sire, you will be present at their
execution with the queen and queen-mother, will you not?"
"Why, will that be necessary, pray?" asked the youthful king, walking
toward the door, much annoyed.
"Sire, it is indispensable," urged the cardinal, following him. "The
glorious King François I. and your father, of illustrious memory, Sire,
never failed to be present at the burning of heretics. As for the King
of Spain, Sire--"
"Other kings may do as they please," said François, still going toward
the door, "and I, too, propose to have my own way."
"I ought to inform your Majesty that the nuncio from his Holiness
absolutely relies upon your presence at the first 'Act of Faith' of your
reign," added the pitiless cardinal. "When everybody else is
present,--even the Prince de Condé, I venture to say,--is it fitting
that your Majesty should be absent?"
"Alas, _mon Dieu_! we will talk of this matter again presently,"
rejoined François. "The guilty men are not yet condemned."
"Oh, I beg your Majesty's pardon, but they are!" said the cardinal,
earnestly.
"So be it! Thus you impose this terrible necessity upon me in my
feebleness," replied the king. "But now, Monsieur le Cardinal, let us
go, as I said, to kneel before the altar and thank God, who has deigned
to turn aside from us the peril of this conspiracy."
"Sire," said the Duc de Guise, "we must not exaggerate these things, and
give them more importance than they deserve, therefore I trust that your
Majesty will not speak of this movement as a conspiracy; it was, in
truth, nought but a _tumult_."