FOR THE ADMIRAL
W.J. MARX
_Author of "Scouting for Buller," "The British Legion," etc._
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
PUBLISHERS LONDON
_Printed in 1906_
_Butler and Panner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London_
TO MY WIFE
BUT FOR WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT
THIS STORY WOULD NEVER
HAVE BEEN WRITTEN.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
A PERILOUS RIDE
CHAPTER II
TRACKED, OR NOT?
CHAPTER III
THE FIGHT BY THE WAY
CHAPTER IV
HOW WE KEPT THE FORD
CHAPTER V
A TRAITOR TO THE KING
CHAPTER VI
THE UNKNOWN CAVALIER
CHAPTER VII
A COMMISSION FOR THE ADMIRAL
CHAPTER VIII
THE TRAGEDY OF JARNAC
CHAPTER IX
A GLORIOUS VICTORY
CHAPTER X
I REJOIN THE ADVANCE
CHAPTER XI
A DESPERATE CONFLICT
CHAPTER XII
THE RETURN TO ROCHELLE
CHAPTER XIII
A DARING ENTERPRISE
CHAPTER XIV
SCOUTING FOR COLIGNY
CHAPTER XV
A GLORIOUS TRIUMPH
CHAPTER XVI
A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE
CHAPTER XVII
THE KING'S PROMISE
CHAPTER XVIII
A WARNING FROM L'ESTANG
CHAPTER XIX
WHO KILLED THE COURIER?
CHAPTER XX
L'ESTANG'S COURIER
CHAPTER XXI
I SAVE CORDEL'S LIFE
CHAPTER XXII
L'ESTANG TELLS HIS STORY
CHAPTER XXIII
A ROYAL MARRIAGE
CHAPTER XXIV
A MYSTERIOUS WARNING
CHAPTER XXV
A DASTARDLY DEED
CHAPTER XXVI
WHAT WILL THE KING DO?
CHAPTER XXVII
THE DAY OF THE MASSACRE
CHAPTER XXVIII
FAREWELL FRANCE
L'ENVOI
CHAPTER I
A Perilous Ride
"I trust no harm has happened to my father, Jacques. The night grows
late and there are strange rumours afloat. 'Tis said that the Guises are
eager to break the peace."
"Better open warfare than this state of things, monsieur. The peace is
no peace: the king's troops are robbing and slaying as they please.
François of the mill told me a pretty tale of their doings to-day. But
listen, I hear the beat of hoofs on the road below."
"There are two horses, Jacques, and they approach very slowly. My father
does not usually ride like that."
"No, faith!" said Jacques, with a laugh; "if his horse went at that pace
the Sieur Le Blanc would get down and walk! But the travellers are
coming here, nevertheless. Shall we go to the gate, monsieur?"
"It may be as well," I answered. "One can never tell these days what
mischief is brewing."
By the peasantry for miles around my home was called the Castle of Le
Blanc. It stood on the brow of a hill, overlooking a wide plain, and was
defended by a dry moat and massive walls. A score of resolute men inside
might easily have kept two hundred at bay, and more than once, indeed,
the castle had stood a regular siege.
According to Jacques it might have to do so again, for in that year,
1586, of which I write, France was in a terrible state. The nation was
divided into two hostile parties--those who fiercely resisted any
changes being made in the Church, and the Huguenots, those of the
Religion--and the whole land was given over to brawling and disorder.
My father, who was held in high esteem by the Huguenot party, had fought
through three campaigns under Gaspard de Coligny, the Admiral, as men,
by virtue of his office, generally called him. Severely wounded in one
of the numerous skirmishes, he had returned home to be nursed back to
health by my mother. Before he recovered a peace was patched up between
the two parties, and he had since remained quietly on his estate.
He it was who, rather to my surprise, now came riding at a foot pace
into the courtyard. The stranger accompanying him sat his horse limply,
and seemed in some danger of falling from the saddle.
[Illustration: "The stranger accompanying him sat his horse limply."]
"Take the bridle, Jacques," cried my father. "Edmond, let your mother
know I am bringing with me a wounded man."
When we had assisted the stranger into one of the chambers I saw that he
was of medium height, spare in figure, but tough and sinewy. He had a
swarthy complexion, and small, black, twinkling eyes that gave the
impression of good-humour. His right arm, evidently broken, was carried
in a rough, hastily-made sling; his doublet was bloodstained, and his
forehead had been scored by the slash of a knife.
He must have been suffering agony, yet he did not even wince when my
father, who had considerable experience of wounds, set the broken limb,
while I, after sponging his face with warm water, applied some salve to
the gash. But he kept muttering to himself, "This is a whole night
wasted; I must set out at daybreak."
"We are going to get you into bed, and dress the wound in your side,"
said my father cheerily. "I hope that at daybreak you will be sleeping
soundly."
"The cut is a bagatelle, monsieur, and I must to the road again. A
murrain on those rascally bandits!"
"At least you will be none the worse for an hour's rest," said my
father, humouring his fancy. "Edmond, get off his boots, and do it
gently: we must keep this wound from bleeding afresh."
Between us we removed his clothes, and in spite of his protests got him
into bed, when my father bathed and bandaged his side, saying, "It looks
worse than it really is. Now, a cup of hot broth, and you should sleep
comfortably."
"The broth will be welcome, monsieur, but I have no time for sleep. An
hour lost here may plunge thousands of good Frenchmen into mourning."
I thought at first the pain had turned his brain; but he spoke sensibly
enough, and appeared deeply in earnest.
"Can we help you?" my father asked. "It will be a week yet before you
are able to sit in the saddle. Do you know me?"
"Yes," said the other, and his face brightened, "you are the Sieur Le
Blanc. I have seen you at Rochelle with the Admiral."
"Then you know I am to be trusted! Mind, I have no wish to pry into your
business; but perhaps we can be of service. Are you travelling far?"
"A week's ride," groaned the man; then, raising himself in bed, he said,
"Monsieur, I must go forward!"
"Pshaw, man, you talk nonsense! You haven't sufficient strength to carry
you across the room, and the wound in your side would start bleeding
before you reached the courtyard. Come, throw aside your fears; I make
no secret of my friendship for Gaspard de Coligny, and it is easy to
guess you have fought under his banner before now. But here is Jacques
with the broth! Drink this, and afterwards we will talk."
I raised him up while he drank, and presently he said, "Monsieur, if I
rested till midday I should be strong enough."
"A week at the least," my father replied, "and even then a score of
miles would overtax your strength."
After lying quietly for a few minutes, he whispered, "Monsieur, make the
door fast. Now, hand me my doublet. A murrain on the knaves who brought
me to this! A knife, monsieur, and slit the lining. Do you feel a
packet? 'Tis a small one. Ah, that is it. Look, monsieur, at the
address."
"The Admiral!" said my father with a start of surprise, "and he is at
Tanlay. Man, it will be a month before you can reach Tanlay; and the
packet is marked 'All speed!' Do you know the purport of the message?"
"It conveys a warning, monsieur, and it will arrive too late. The
Guises and the Queen-Mother have laid their plans; the Loire is guarded
along its banks, and the troops are collecting for a swoop on Tanlay."
"And Condé is at Noyers!"
"The Prince is included, monsieur. 'Let us take off the heads of the two
leaders,' is what the Italian woman says, 'and there will be no more
Huguenots.' And the chiefs at Rochelle chose me to carry the warning.
'There is none braver or more prudent than Ambroise Devine,' they said.
Monsieur, I would rather have lost my right hand!"
"Cheer up, man. I warrant you have no cause for reproach. Guise has his
spies in Rochelle, and they would follow you on the chance of picking up
some information. When were you attacked?"
"At the close of the afternoon, monsieur, in the wood a few miles to the
west. They sprang out upon me suddenly--there were three of them--and I
was taken unawares. But it was a good fight," and, in spite of his pain
and distress of mind, his face lit up with a smile of satisfaction.
"There is one trooper the less in Guise's ranks, and another who won't
earn his pay for months to come."
"And best of all, the papers are safe," my father observed. "Now, what
is to be done? That is the important point. The Admiral must have them
without loss of time, and you cannot carry them to him. My duties keep
me here, but I could send Jacques----"
"Jacques?" said the sick man questioningly.
"He is a trusty servant; I will vouch for his loyalty."
Devine shook his head. It was plain he did not welcome the proposal.
"Trust the papers to me," I said, on a sudden impulse, "and I will take
Jacques for company."
"'Tis a long journey, Edmond, and full of danger," said my father. "I
fear an older head than yours is needed."
"Jacques can supply the older head, and I will take charge of the
papers."
"You are only a boy," objected Devine.
"So much the better: no one will suspect I am engaged on an errand of
importance."
"There is something in that, but this is no child's game; 'tis an affair
of life and death. You must travel day and night, and from the moment
the papers are in your hands your life belongs to the Admiral. If you
fail to reach Tanlay in time, the death of the noblest gentleman in
France will lie on your shoulders."
"I will do my best."
"He is young," remarked my father, "but he can bear fatigue. He has a
sure seat in the saddle, and he is more thoughtful than most boys of his
age. With Jacques at his elbow the venture is not as desperate as it may
seem."
Since nothing better offered, Devine at length agreed to the proposal,
and having informed Jacques that we should start at dawn I went straight
to bed, in the hope of getting a couple of hours' sleep before beginning
the journey.
The morning had scarcely broken when Jacques wakened me; I sprang up
quickly, dressed--my mother had sewn the precious papers securely
inside my doublet--and made a hearty meal.
My mother, who had risen in order to bid me farewell, was full of
anxiety; but, like the brave woman she was, she put aside her fears; for
the Admiral's safety was at stake, and we of the Religion were well
content to make any sacrifice for our beloved leader. I embraced her
fondly, assuring her I would be careful, and proceeded to the chamber
where Ambroise Devine lay. He had not slept, but was eagerly awaiting
the time of my departure.
"You have the papers?" he asked. "Give them into the Admiral's own
hands, and remember that a single hour's delay may ruin the Cause."
"He carries a full purse," said my father, "and can buy fresh horses on
the road."
Wishing the sick man good-bye, and bidding him be of good courage, I
descended to the courtyard, where Jacques awaited me with the horses.
"Do not be sparing of your money, Edmond; if need arises, spend freely,"
my father advised. "And now, may God bless you, and bring you safely
through. Do not forget, Jacques, that a shrewd brain will pay better
than a strong arm in this venture."
"We will be as prudent as the Admiral himself, monsieur," declared
Jacques, as he vaulted into the saddle; and, with a last word of counsel
from my father, we crossed the drawbridge and rode down the hill to the
high road.
"'Tis a long journey before us, monsieur, and an unexpected one,"
observed my companion, as, turning sharply to the left, we rode through
the still sleeping village. "'Tis odd what a chance encounter may bring
about; but for the Sieur's meeting with the wounded man we should still
be snug abed. There is some one stirring at the inn. Old Pierre will be
none too pleased at having guests who rise so early; but there, 'twill
be another coin or so to add to his hoard."
"Pierre is a wise man," I said.
"I think not, monsieur. There is little wisdom in saving money for
others to spend. The king's troopers will ride through here some day,
and Pierre will be a cunning man if they do not strip him as bare as a
trussed fowl. 'Tis more satisfactory these days to spend one's money
while one has the chance. And things will never be any better until they
send the Italian woman out of the country."
Jacques generally spoke of the Queen-Mother as the Italian woman, and he
regarded her as the chief cause of all our troubles.
"She cares for no one but herself," he continued, "not even for the boy
king, and the Guises have her under their thumb. What with them and her
Italian favourites there is no room in France for an honest Frenchman.
Listen, some one rides behind us! 'Tis the early riser from the inn
perhaps. Faith, he is a keen judge of horseflesh."
"And he has a firm seat," I remarked, glancing round. "He will overtake
us in a few minutes. Shall we quicken our pace?"
"No, monsieur. If he is a friend there is no need; should he be an enemy
'twill but arouse suspicion."
"Good-day, messieurs," cried a pleasant voice, "I trust we are well
met. I am a stranger in the district, and wish to discover the
whereabouts of one Etienne Cordel. He is an advocate from Paris, but he
owns a small estate in the neighbourhood."
"A tall man," said Jacques, "with a nose like a hawk's beak, and eyes
that look in opposite directions?"
"Faith, my friend," laughed the stranger jovially, "you have his picture
to a nicety. That is Etienne Cordel. Are you acquainted with him?"
"I have met him," replied Jacques carelessly. "We shall pass within a
mile or two of his place, if you care to travel in our company."
"Nothing would please me more," declared the cavalier. "This is a stroke
of good fortune on which I had not counted. I spent the night at the inn
yonder, but the dolt of a landlord might have been one of the staves of
his own barrels: he could not answer me a question!"
"Ha! my dashing friend," I thought to myself, "old Pierre must have had
his reasons for making a fool of you," for in truth the landlord knew
every one, and everything that happened, for miles around.
The stranger had drawn his horse abreast of mine, and was riding on my
left. He was a man of perhaps thirty years, richly but quietly dressed,
wearing a sword, and carrying two pistols in his holsters. His dark
brown hair escaped over his forehead in short curls; his face was strong
and capable; he had good features, and a rounded chin. His eyes were
blue, deep, expressive, and beautiful as a woman's, and he had a most
engaging air of candour and sincerity. The horse he rode was a splendid
animal; my father had not its equal in his stables.
"This place of Etienne's," said he, addressing Jacques, "is it far?"
"Within a dozen miles, monsieur. You might easily have reached it last
night by pushing on."
"Had I been acquainted with the road! But it was late when I arrived at
the inn, and my horse had done a heavy's day work. You are a native of
the district, monsieur?" turning to me.
"If you make the district wide enough," I answered, with a laugh.
"You have escaped the ravages of war in these parts; you are fortunate.
One can ride here without loosening his sword."
"Yes," assented Jacques, "'tis a peaceful neighbourhood."
"A pity one cannot say the same of all France," replied the other with a
deep sigh, as if saddened at the mere thought of bloodshed; "and yet it
is whispered that the war is likely to break out again. Has the rumour
reached you down here?"
"We hear little news of the outside world," I replied.
"Excuse me, monsieur," exclaimed Jacques suddenly, "but it will suit us
to quicken the pace. We have pressing business to transact," to which
our chance acquaintance replied that he was quite willing to be guided
by our wishes.
Accordingly we broke into a canter, and for the next hour or so no sound
was heard save the beat of our horses' hoofs on the hard road. But
once, when the stranger had shot a few paces to the front--for as I have
said he rode a splendid animal--Jacques made me a swift sign that I
should be cautious.