A Daring Enterprise
After the lapse of many years, I close my eyes, and leaning back in my
chair listen again to my comrade as with tremulous voice he reads the
fatal letter.--"Monsieur, you once did me a priceless service. I have
never forgotten--shall never forget. Believe me, monsieur, it is with
poignant grief I write this brief note. I have been with Monseigneur at
St. Jean d'Angely throughout the siege. Your father was the bravest man
among our enemies. His wonderful skill and courage have gained the
admiration of friend and foe alike. The king spoke of his bravery with
the highest praise: Monseigneur has declared openly that the Sieur Le
Blanc alone stood between him and the capture of the town. He has indeed
proved himself one of the finest soldiers in France; but, alas!
monsieur, the Sieur Le Blanc is no more. He fell not an hour ago at the
head of his men, in a brilliant sortie. Remembering your kindness to me,
my heart bleeds for you. I write this with the deepest sorrow, but it
may be less painful for you to learn of your loss in this way than to be
tortured by a rumour, the truth of which you cannot prove. Accept my
heartfelt sympathy."
"My father is dead, Felix," I said in a dazed manner.
"He fought a good fight," replied my comrade. "His memory will live in
the hearts of our people."
This might be true, but the knowledge did little to soften my grief. And
I was thinking not of my father alone--after all he had died a hero's
death--but of my mother and sister. How could I tell them this mournful
news? How could I comfort them?
"Felix," I said, "we are going away to-morrow."
"You must stay here," he said firmly, "at least for a few days. I will
inform our patron; he is not likely to leave Saintes for a week. Shall I
come home with you, or do you prefer to be alone?"
"I will go alone, Felix; it will be better for them. I will join you at
Saintes. Good-bye, dear friend."
"Tell your mother and sister how deeply I sympathize with them," he
said. "I would come with you, but, as you say, perhaps it is better
not."
"I think they will prefer to be alone," I answered, grasping his hand in
farewell.
I went out into the deserted street, walking unsteadily, and hardly
conscious of anything beyond my one absorbing sorrow. I reached the
house at last, and in answer to my summons a servant opened the door.
No, the ladies had not retired; they were still downstairs.
Perhaps my face betrayed the miserable truth; perhaps some chord of
sympathy passed from me to them--I know not. They jumped up and came
forward with a sudden fear in their eyes. I had already bidden them
farewell, and they did not expect to see me again, until I rode from the
city in the morning.
My mother gazed at me earnestly, but said nothing; Jeanne cried
impulsively, "What is it, Edmond? There is bad news! Oh, Edmond, is it
about our father?"
"You must be brave," I said gently, taking a hand of each, "very brave.
Yes, I have received bad news from St. Jean d'Angely. There has been a
fierce fight; our father headed a sortie, and has been seriously hurt.
He was the bravest man there, every one says so from the king downwards.
Even his enemies praise him."
"Edmond," said my mother quietly, "we are strong enough to bear the
truth--is your father dead?"
Words were not needed to answer that question; the answer was plain in
my face, and those two dear ones understood. Oh, it was pitiful to see
their white faces, and the misery in their eyes! And yet I could feel a
pride, too, in their wonderful bravery. They wept silently in each;
other's arms, and presently my mother said softly, "It is God's will;
let us pray to Him for strength to bear our loss."
I stayed with them for four days, being I believe of some comfort in
that sorrowful time, and then my mother herself suggested that I should
return to my duty.
"You belong to the Cause, my son," she said, "and not to us. It is a
heavy trial to let you go, but your father would have wished it. Perhaps
the good God, in His mercy, may guard you through all dangers, and we
may meet again. But, if not, we are in' His hands. Tell Felix we thank
him for his kind message."
"Roger, too, will grieve for our loss," I said. "He admired my father
greatly."
The Englishmen had accompanied the Admiral, so that Roger had left
Rochelle when the news arrived.
Early on the morning fixed for my departure I wished my mother and
sister good-bye, and returned to the hotel. Coligny was still at
Saintes, and I waited for a letter that the commandant had requested me
to deliver to him. I had gone into the courtyard to see about my horse
when a man, riding in, exclaimed, "Oh, I am in time, monsieur; I feared
you had gone."
"Jacques!" I cried with delight, "surely you have taken a long while to
travel from Montcontour to Rochelle! And yet you have a good beast!"
"As good an animal as ever carried saddle!" said Jacques, eyeing his
horse complacently; "but then I have not owned it long."
"Have you been to the house?"
"Yes, monsieur," and his face became grave, "it was madame who told me
where to find you. She said you were about to rejoin the army."
He did not speak of my loss, though it was plain he had heard the news,
and indeed several days passed before the subject was mentioned between
us. Jacques had been brought up in my father's service, and he was
unwilling to talk about the death of his loved master.
"Yes, I am going to join the Admiral," I said; "but have you not had
enough of adventures? Would you not rather stay at Rochelle?"
"While monsieur is wandering about the country?" he asked. "Ah," as a
servant came from the building, "here is a summons for monsieur!"
The commandant had finished his letter, and having received his
instructions I returned to the courtyard, mounted my horse, and,
followed by Jacques, started on my journey. I was very glad of his
company, since it took me out of myself, and gave me less opportunity
for brooding.
"Did Monsieur Bellièvre and the Englishman escape from Montcontour?" he
asked, as we reached the open country.
"Yes, we shall meet them both at Saintes; but about yourself--I was
afraid you were killed."
"So was I," he laughed. "Monsieur, it was a terrible day, and a still
more terrible night. Our poor fellows received little mercy.
Monseigneur's troopers gave no quarter. I got a nasty cut, and hid in a
hollow till all was quiet; then I crawled out, took my choice of several
riderless horses, and rode into the darkness. I thought I might find the
army somewhere, but there was no army to be found."
"No," I said rather bitterly, "the army was running to all the points of
the compass."
"That's just what I was doing, monsieur. What with the darkness, and the
pain of my wound, and the fear of falling into the hands of
Monseigneur's troops, I lost my head entirely, and wandered about in a
circle. When morning came I was hardly a mile from Montcontour. Then
some peasants seized me, and for once in my life I was glad to count a
robber among my friends."
"How so?"
"One of the fellows was Jules Bredin, from our own village. He
recognized me, and as he possessed some authority I came to no harm.
Indeed, they took me to their camp in the woods, and attended to me
until I had quite recovered. I owe Jules a debt of gratitude."
"On which side do these fellows fight?"
"I asked Jules that question myself, and he laughed in my face. 'My dear
Jacques,' said the rascal, 'we fight for ourselves, and we get our
victims from both parties. They won't let us work, so we must earn our
living as best we can.' And they seemed to be flourishing, monsieur.
They had no lack of wine and provisions. Jules never feasted so well in
his life before. But, monsieur, what is the Admiral doing at Saintes?"
"That I do not know, Jacques, but doubtless we shall soon discover."
Our journey passed without incident, and having delivered the despatch I
sought my comrades. Roger had by this time been made acquainted with my
loss, and both he and Felix showed me the greatest kindness. It was
pleasant to feel that one possessed such trusty friends.
"You have arrived just in time," said Felix, "for we march in the
morning."
"March?" I asked in surprise, "where?"
"Somewhere to the south, I believe; but the Admiral keeps his plans
close. But you may be sure he isn't going to offer Anjou battle. We
scarcely number three thousand, counting the handful of infantry."
"Not a large number with which to conquer a kingdom!" laughed Roger.
"We shall get more," said Felix, who had recovered his spirits, and was
as sanguine as ever. "Coligny's name alone will attract men to the
standard. Why, surely that must be Jacques!" as my servant approached.
"Jacques, you rascal, I thought you had deserted us at Montcontour!"
"I think it was the other way about, monsieur," replied Jacques slily.
"I stayed at Montcontour."
"Ah, a good thrust!" cried my comrade merrily, "a good thrust! But
whichever way it is I am glad to see you again, Jacques. We are sadly in
need of strong arms and stout hearts."
"Well, monsieur, I have been round the camp, and certainly I think the
Admiral is quite equal to commanding a larger army."
"You should not regard mere numbers, Jacques; it is the quality that
tells. Three thousand picked men are worth ten thousand ordinary troops.
And then our chief is as good as an army in himself!"
To those who had fought at Roche Abeille, our camp presented a somewhat
sorry spectacle. As Felix had said, we numbered barely three thousand
men, and one missed a host of familiar faces. I thought with pity of the
noble St. Cyr, and many others of our best and bravest who had already
laid down their lives for the Cause.
We retired to rest early, and soon after daybreak were roused by the
bugles. Tents were struck, prayers said, and about nine o'clock we moved
off the ground in the direction of the Dordogne.
It would be tedious to relate in detail the incidents of that southern
journey. The weather was bitterly cold and rainy, much sickness set in,
and we suffered numerous hardships. Still we pushed steadily forward,
through Guienne, Ronergue, and Quercy, passed the Lot below Cadence,
and halted at Montauban. Here we were cheered by the arrival of
Montgomery, with two thousand Bearnese, a welcome addition to our scanty
force.
Smaller bodies of troops had already joined us, and after leaving
Montauban we picked up several more. Felix, of course, was in excellent
spirits, and talked as if we had the whole kingdom at our feet.
"But where are we going?" I asked in bewilderment, "and what are we
going to do?"
"I do not know, my dear Edmond," he replied gaily. "It is enough for me
that Coligny leads. I warrant he has some brilliant scheme in his head."
From Montauban we marched up the Garonne to Toulouse, and finally found
ourselves at Narbonne, where we went into winter quarters. Roger was, of
course, with his own troop, but Felix and I were billeted in the same
house, much to our satisfaction.
After our long and painful march, the comfort which we met with at
Narbonne was exceedingly welcome, and week after week glided rapidly
away. Toward the end of the winter several hundred men came in from the
surrounding districts, and our army began to present quite a respectable
appearance.
Many conjectures were made as to our leader's intentions, but he kept
his own counsel, and even we of his household had no inkling of the
gigantic scheme forming in his mind. Some said he meant to establish a
separate kingdom in the south, to which those of the Religion in all
parts of the country would flock; but this idea was scouted by those who
knew his intense love of France. Besides, as Felix remarked, we should
have to abandon La Rochelle, and such a proceeding as that was
incredible.
"Into harness again, Edmond," exclaimed my comrade excitedly, one
morning, coming from his attendance on the Admiral. "Boot and saddle,
and the tented field once more. We leave Narbonne in a week; aren't you
glad?"
"Upon my word I am not sorry. Where do we go? Is the mystery solved?"
"No," he said, laughing good-humouredly, "the chief still keeps his
secret. But when it does leak out I fancy there will be a surprise for
us."
The news soon spread, and the town was filled with bustle and animation.
Every one was busy with his preparations, and from morning till night
the streets were crowded with men and horses, and with wagons for
carrying the provisions and stores. Our days of idleness were over; we
had no rest now. Felix and I were ever hurrying from place to place,
carrying orders and instructions to the different leaders.
At last the day came when with cheerful confidence we marched out from
the town that had been our winter home. The sick had recovered their
health, every one was strong and vigorous, the horses were in capital
condition, and we all looked forward to a successful campaign, though
without the slightest idea where it would take place.
I had thought it most probable that we should retrace our steps to
Toulouse, but instead we speedily struck eastward. What did our leader
intend doing? was the question asked by every one that night, and which
no one could answer. A few of the troops showed some concern, but the
majority shared my comrade's opinion.
"What does it matter where we go," said he, "as long as Coligny leads
us? It is for him to form the plan, and for us to carry it out."
"We are going farther away from Rochelle," I remarked.
"Rochelle can look after itself, Edmond. It would help the Cause
considerably if Anjou would besiege the city; but he won't. As to this
march, the Admiral will explain his intentions when he thinks well."
It was at Nismes that Coligny first revealed his purpose, and it came on
most of us as a thunder-clap. Instead of returning to the scenes of our
former struggles, we were to cross the Rhone, march through Dauphigny,
and threaten Paris from the east. The proposal was so bold and audacious
that it fairly took away our breath, and we gazed at each other in
astonishment. But the hot-headed ones, and Felix among them, cheered the
speech with all the vigour of their lungs, more than making up for the
silence of the rest.
"Soldiers," said the Admiral, "there are my plans, but I do not force
you to obey me. Those whose courage fails must stop behind and return to
their homes, but I will march though not more than five hundred should
follow my banner. Think well before you agree. The journey is long,
perilous, and full of hardship. We shall find few friends and many
enemies; our provisions may fail, and Monseigneur will certainly send a
strong army to bar our passage. It is an undertaking for only the
bravest; the weak-kneed will but hinder."
"We will follow you to the death, my lord," cried Felix impetuously, and
thousands of voices took up the bold cry.
"I will ask you to-morrow," said our chief; "for when once we have
started I must have no faltering, nor turning back."
That same evening Felix and I went over to the Englishmen's camp. I had
expected to find some traces of excitement, and to hear them discussing
whether they should embark on the hazardous venture. Instead of that
they were lounging about as carelessly as if we had Drought the war to a
successful conclusion.
Roger came towards us smiling. "Well," said he, "your general has sprung
a surprise on us!"
"Will your comrades go with us?" I asked. "Have they talked the matter
over yet?"
"What is there to talk over? We are here to help, not to say what you
shall do. Of course we shall go. One part of France is the same to us as
another; but I fancy some of your own troops will elect to remain
behind."
"'Tis quite possible," I replied. "The venture is a daring one."
"The majority will march," declared Felix with enthusiasm; "a few of the
southerners may prefer to guard their own districts, but that is all. I
knew Coligny had some gigantic scheme in his head, but never dreamed of
this. It is glorious; it will be the talk of Europe."
"If it succeed," said Roger drily, "it will matter little whether
Europe talks or not; but in any case Coligny is staking everything on
one throw. If we get beaten, he cannot expect to raise another army."
"Do not let us think of defeat," I said, "and we shall stand a better
chance of winning a victory. There is no sense in gazing at the black
clouds when we can as easily look at the bright sunshine."