A Commission for the Admiral
"It is over, monsieur."
Renaud L'Estang stood before me, his face drawn and haggard, and heavy
with a great grief. He had stolen in noiselessly; his sword and pistol
lay within reach of his hand; he might have killed me without effort,
and saved his own life. The thought flashed into my mind, but died away
instantly. From the moment when he told his story I had never once
mistrusted him.
"Your mother has passed away?" I questioned in a tone of sympathy.
"She died in my arms; her last moments were full of peace. Now, I am at
your service."
"You are faint," I said. "Will it not be advisable to break your fast
before starting out? You will need all your strength."
"I cannot eat."
"Yet it is necessary. Pardon me if I summon your servant."
He allowed himself to be treated almost as a child, eating and drinking
mechanically what was set before him, hardly conscious of my presence,
unable to detach his thoughts from the sombre picture in the adjoining
apartment. At last he had finished, and I said gently, "Have you made
arrangements for your mother's burial?"
"They are all made," he replied gravely.
"There is your sword," I remarked, pointing to the weapon lying on the
table.
"Let it lie monsieur," he answered with a mournful smile; "a dead man
has no use for a sword."
Now I may have done a very foolish thing, for this L'Estang was a daring
soldier, crafty, able, and resolute. He was an enemy to be feared far
more than many a general in the armies of the League. All this was well
known to me, and yet I could not harden my heart against him. I had
meant to denounce him to the Admiral, but at the last moment my courage
failed. How could I condemn to death this man who had freely risked his
life to comfort his mother's last moments?
"Monsieur," I said awkwardly, "listen to me. When I met you in the city,
I jumped to the conclusion that you had come to Rochelle as a spy. You
told me your story, and I believed it; but you have doubtless many
enemies who will laugh at it. They will say----"
"Nothing, monsieur; I shall go to the block without words. Renaud
L'Estang will find no mercy in Rochelle, and asks none."
There was no hint of bravado in his speech; it was but the expression of
a man of intrepid courage and iron will.
"Once more listen," I said. "Had you come to Rochelle as a spy I should
have handed you over to our troops without hesitation; but I am
regarding you, not as the servant of Anjou but as a tender and loving
son. I cannot have on my hands the blood of a man who has shown such
affection for his mother. I propose to accompany you to the gate, and
there to set you at liberty."
He stood like one suddenly stricken dumb. His limbs trembled, the
muscles of his face twitched convulsively; he gazed at me with unseeing
eyes.
"Monsieur," he said after a time, "I do not comprehend. Is it that you
give me, Renaud L'Estang, my life? No, I must have mistaken your words."
"You have made no mistake. As far as I am concerned you are free. I ask
but one thing, Renaud L'Estang. Some day you may be able to show mercy
to one of your foes. Should such a time arrive, remember that once mercy
was not withheld from you."
He did not speak, but motioned me with his hand to follow him. We
entered the chamber of death, and he knelt reverently by the bedside.
Then, in low, passionate tones, calling on the dead woman by name, he
made a solemn vow that, should it ever be in his power, he would repay
the debt he owed me, even at the sacrifice of life and all he held most
dear.
"I must fight for my side," he said, "but no Huguenot shall ever seek
quarter from me in vain."
He buckled on his sword, and we went out together in the dull grey
morning. Few persons were abroad, and none presumed to question one of
the Admiral's household. My companion fetched his horse from the inn,
and I walked with him until we were well beyond the walls of the town.
Then I came to a halt, saying: "Here we part; now you must depend on
yourself for safety."
He doffed his plumed hat. "Monsieur," he said, "the friends of Renaud
L'Estang would laugh on being told he was at a loss for words; yet it is
true. I cannot express my gratitude; I can but pray that I may have an
opportunity of proving it. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" I replied, and when he had ridden some distance I returned
thoughtfully to the city.
Felix, who was on duty at the hotel, looked at me curiously. "Where have
you been?" he asked. "We expected you last night, and concluded you must
have been detained on some special service. I have been wearing myself
to a shadow on your account!"
I made some commonplace excuse and left him, saying I was tired and
wished to sleep; for, though I did not regret my action, I could hardly
refrain from doubting its wisdom.
At first the incident occupied a large portion of my thoughts, but as
the days passed into weeks the memory of it wore off.
Winter had set in, and we knew the campaign would not open until the
spring of the next year. It was a trying time; the cold was intense--the
oldest veteran had never known such a keen frost--and much sickness
broke out among the troops. The good Admiral tended them with the
devotion of a father, spending himself in their service, and we of his
household were kept busy from morning till night.
In spite of every care, however, our losses were enormous, and the
prospect became very gloomy. Every one looked forward with eagerness to
the coming of spring.
"If the winter lasts much longer," said Roger Braund, one night when we
had all met at my aunt's house, "there will be no army left."
"A little more patience," my father exclaimed smilingly; "once the
campaign begins you will have no cause to complain of inaction!"
"Faith," laughed Felix, "if he rides with the Admiral, he will be
regretting sometimes having left the comforts of Rochelle."
"I shall probably do that," said Roger, glancing at my sister, "even
without the hard riding."
"Then you are a caitiff knight and no true soldier," I broke in hastily,
for Jeanne was blushing furiously, and my comrade's face had lost its
merriment; "but, really, things are becoming serious; more than a score
of men have died to-day!"
"Poor fellows!" said my mother tenderly; "if those who force us into
these cruel wars could only realize the misery they cause!"
"I fear, madame," remarked Roger, "that the suffering troubles them
little, as long as they can gain their ends."
About a week after this conversation there were signs that our long
inactivity was drawing to a close. The weather became far milder; the
ice began to thaw, and it was possible for the soldiers to pass the
nights in some degree of comfort. Orders were issued to the various
leaders, carts were collected and filled with stores, bodies of troops
marched out from the city, and preparations for the campaign were
actively pushed forward.
"I really believe," said Felix one morning, "that we are about to move.
Condé has issued instructions for all his followers to hold themselves
in readiness, and a body of infantry left Rochelle an hour ago."
We were on duty in the Admiral's ante-chamber, and my comrade had just
finished speaking when our leader, attended as usual by the Sieur de
Guerchy, ascended the staircase. He glanced round at us with his kindly
smile, and, clapping me lightly on the shoulder, exclaimed: "A word with
you in my room, Monsieur Le Blanc."
Expecting some trifling commission, such as often fell to his gentlemen
of the bodyguard, I followed him into the apartment, and stood waiting
to hear his commands.
"A prudent youth, De Guerchy," he remarked to his companion, "and not
without experience. He it was who brought the timely warning to Tanlay.
His father is the Sieur Le Blanc."
"A gallant soldier!" said De Guerchy with decision.
"And I think the lad will follow in his father's footsteps. I am about
to send him to Saint Jean d'Angely, and to Cognac," adding, with a
laugh, "'tis a far less distance than to Tanlay."
"But the commission is almost as important," said De Guerchy.
"Much less dangerous though," and, turning to me, he added: "Can you
carry a letter to the commandant at Cognac?"
"I will do my best, my lord."
"Then make your preparations; I shall be ready for you at the end of two
hours."
I saluted and returned to the ante-chamber, where Felix, catching sight
of my smiling face, exclaimed: "More good fortune, Edmond? I shall be
jealous of you soon! Why do the Fates select you for their favours?"
"It is an affair of little importance," I said.
"Does it carry you away from Rochelle?"
"A short distance; but I must attend to my horse; our patron is in a
hurry," and expecting that we should meet later I hurried away.
Having saddled my horse and put my pistols in order I paid a hasty visit
home, though fully expecting to be back in the city within a few days.
My father, however, thought my absence would be for a longer period.
"The truth is, Edmond," he said, "that the campaign has opened. Some of
the troops have already started, and Coligny himself leaves the city
before night. So, should you be charged with a message for him, you are
not likely to return to Rochelle."
"And you?" I asked.
"I am waiting for orders, I may march with the troops, or remain here;
it depends on our leaders."
My father's information put a greyer colour on the farewell; Jeanne and
my mother embraced me very tenderly, and neither could altogether keep
back the tell-tale tears. Still, they were very brave, and when at last
I rode off, they stood at the window waving their handkerchiefs and
smiling, though I suspect the smiles quickly faded after I disappeared
from sight.
I found the hotel in a state of commotion, and Felix, who met me in the
lobby, exclaimed excitedly: "It has begun, Edmond; we march almost
immediately. I am just going to say good-bye to your sister. Will you be
away from us long?"
"I think not. I am carrying a despatch to the commandants at Saint Jean
d'Angely and Cognac. Afterwards I shall rejoin you."
"Till we meet again then," said he, hurriedly, anxious to make the most
of the short time still at his disposal.
Several of our leaders besides De Guerchy were with the Admiral, and
from time to time one of them came out, mounted his horse, and galloped
off. Presently the door opened, and De Guerchy called me inside, where
the Admiral handed me two packets.
"One for the commandant at Saint Jean d'Angely," he said, "and one for
him at Cognac. From Cognac you will proceed to Angoulême, unless you
meet with us on the way. I need not warn you to be prudent and vigilant,
nor remind you that these despatches must not fall into the hands of an
enemy. Start at once; you should reach Saint Jean d'Angely before
norning."
I took the packets, placed them securely inside my doublet, and, after a
last word of caution from De Guerchy, left the room. The news of the
coming movement had spread throughout the town and the streets were
crowded. The excitement was intense, and I witnessed many sad scenes;
for every one understood that of the thousands who marched from Rochelle
comparatively few would return.
Heavy carts, and big, clumsy guns--chiefly useful for making a
noise--rumbled along; dashing cavaliers with flaunting favours bestrode
their horses proudly; sturdy foot-soldiers carrying murderous pike or
deadly arquebus tramped steadily onward, while weeping children and
silent, white-faced women stood bowed with grief.
Even beyond the gates I found crowds of people who had come thus far,
loth to say the last farewell to their dear ones; but after a while I
left the throng behind, and set my horse into a canter. Now and again I
overtook a body of troops, marching cheerfully, and singing their
favourite hymns. They, too, were tired of inaction, and eager to plunge
into the strife.
With the falling of darkness I slackened my pace, riding carefully,
listening for any unusual sounds, and peering into the gloom. I had not
forgotten my former adventure, but nothing untoward happened, and
shortly after midnight I drew rein at the gate of the town.
"Your business?" exclaimed the officer of the guard.
"I am from Rochelle, with a despatch for your commandant."
"From the Prince?"
"From the Admiral--it is all one."
The gate was opened, and, having dismounted, I led my horse forward by
the bridle.
"You have had a dark ride, monsieur."
"But a safe one," I answered, laughing. "Where is the commandant to be
found? He will not feel well pleased at being wakened from his sleep."
"Ah, you do not know him! He is like the owl, and sleeps only in the
daylight. At other times he watches; he is going the rounds now, and
will be with us in a few minutes. It will need a craftier leader than
Anjou to take Saint Jean d'Angely by surprise! Ah, here is the
commandant!"
A veteran soldier, with white moustaches, white hair, and grizzled
beard! A strongly-built man of middle height, with resolute, determined
face, and an air that betokened long years of command.
"A despatch from the Admiral, monsieur," I said, saluting and handing
him the packet.
Tearing off the covering, he read the letter by the light of a torch,
folded the paper, and put it away carefully. By his face one could not
judge whether the information he had received was good or ill.
"You are from Rochelle?" he asked sharply.
"I have just ridden from there, monsieur."
"And are you returning?"
"No, monsieur. I am proceeding to Cognac."
"You have had a brisk ride, and your horse is in leed of rest. Come with
me."
He conducted me to an inn, wakened the landlord, and did not leave until
my horse was comfortably stabled, and preparations for a good supper
were in progress. Then he said: "You will be starting early in the
morning. Have a care on your journey to Cognac. Bodies of the enemy have
been prowling around the district for some days."
"I thank you, monsieur. I was unaware they had ventured so far south."
"They are striking, I think, at Angoulême," he said; "I have sent a
courier to Rochelle with the news. Good-night! And don't let the rascals
snap you up."
The supper was an excellent one, the bed delightfully cosy and inviting,
and my last thought was one of regret at having to leave it so soon.
However, I turned out at the landlord's warning, made another hearty
meal--these journeys were keen sharpeners of the appetite--and before
the day was fairly awake had started in cheerful spirits for Cognac.