The King's Promise
Life flowed very smoothly in La Rochelle during that autumn of 1570.
Amongst us at least the peace was not broken, though we heard rumours of
dark threats from the Guises, and Coligny received numerous warnings not
to trust himself, without an armed force, outside the city walls.
The first break came about with the departure of Roger Braund. An
English ship put into the harbour one morning at the end of November,
and her master brought a letter which compelled my comrade to return
home.
"No," he said in reply to my question, "there is no bad news; it is
simply a matter of business. I shall not wish you good-bye; I have still
my promised visit to Paris to make. Perhaps we shall all be able to go
there together."
What he said to Jeanne I do not know, but she did not seem so much cast
down at his departure as I expected, for they two had become very close
friends. Indeed, I sometimes thought their friendship was even warmer
than that between Jeanne and Felix.
However, we went down to the harbour, Felix and I, and aboard his ship,
an uncomfortable-looking craft, with but scanty accommodation for a
passenger. But Roger did not mind this. He had sailed in a much worse
vessel, he said, and a far longer distance than the passage across the
Channel.
Felix shrugged his shoulders. "On land," he remarked, "danger does not
alarm me, but I should not care to put to sea in such a boat as that!"
in which I was at one with him.
"I will choose a better craft next time," laughed Roger, as, after
bidding him farewell, we walked across the gangway to the wharf, where
we stood waving our hands until he disappeared from sight.
"Does he really mean to return?" my comrade asked.
"I think so. He has evidently made up his mind to visit Paris."
"I fancy," said Felix rather bitterly, it struck me, "that he will be
satisfied with Rochelle, as long as Queen Joan holds her Court there!"
My friend was not in the best of humour, but he recovered his spirits in
a day or two, and before a week had passed was as lively and merry as
usual. Black Care and Felix were not congenial companions.
Nothing happened after Roger's departure until the spring of 1571, when
we heard of the king's marriage with Elizabeth of Germany. None of our
leaders attended the ceremony, which seemed to have been a very
brilliant affair, the new queen riding into Paris in an open litter hung
with cloth of silver, drawn by the very finest mules shod with the same
gleaming metal.
A courier who waited upon the Admiral declared that the decorations
were a triumph of art, and that the bridge of Notre Dame was like a
scene taken bodily from fairy land. A triumphal arch was erected at each
end of the bridge; the roadway was covered with an awning smothered in
flowers and evergreens, while between every window on the first floor of
the houses were figures of nymphs bearing fruits and flowers, and
crowned with laurel.
But, although debarred from attending the marriage of the king, we were
not without our rejoicings. Our noble leader was married to Jacqueline
of Montbel, Countess of Entremont, who came to la Rochelle attended by
fifty gentlemen of her kindred. Headed by Coligny, we rode out to meet
her, and the cannon thundered forth a joyous salute. The citizens lined
the streets, and if our decorations were not as gay as those of Paris,
there was, perhaps, a more genuine heartiness in our welcome.
These public rejoicings, however, could not make me forget that my
position was still very awkward. My stock of money was dwindling, and I
could not expect to live in the Admiral's house for ever; while, as long
as we remained at Rochelle, Henry of Beam's generous promise was not
likely to bear fruit.
Jacques, who paid one or two visits to Le Blanc, reported that the
castle remained closed, and that the tenants on the property had
received orders to pay their rents to the crown. This was bad enough,
but his second piece of Information made my blood hot with anger.
I asked if he had learned anything of Etienne Cordel, and he replied
angrily, "More than enough, monsieur. I shall certainly spit that
insolent upstart one of these days. He is giving himself all the airs of
a grand personage, and boasts openly that before long he will be the
Sieur Le Blanc. He is a serpent, monsieur--a crawling, loathsome, deadly
serpent; his breath pollutes the very air."
"He is no worse than his kind," I replied somewhat bitterly. "He is but
trying to raise himself on the misfortunes of others."
"Worse than that, monsieur. In my opinion it was he who caused the
downfall of your house, for his own wicked ends. Your father's property
was to be his reward for doing Monseigneur's dirty work."
"It is likely enough," I replied, "but we can do nothing without the
Admiral."
A day or two after this conversation--it was as far as I can remember
about the middle of July--Felix came to me in a state of great
excitement.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked. "The king has sent for our chief!"
"For what purpose?"
"He has written a most kindly letter and has promised to follow his
counsel."
"Faith," said I, "it smacks to me of the invitation of the hungry fox to
the plump pullet! I think Coligny will be well advised to remain within
the walls of La Rochelle."
The king's letter was the subject of eager discussion, and almost every
one declared that our beloved chief would run the greatest risk in
accepting the invitation.
"The king may be honest enough, though I doubt it," said one, "but the
Guises are murderers; while as for Monseigneur and his mother, I would
as soon trust to a pack of wolves!"
Queen Joan, Henry of Bearn, young Condé, and all our leaders, though
making use of less blunt speech, were of the same opinion, but the
Admiral cared little for his own safety, when there was a chance of
benefiting his country.
"The king is surrounded by evil counsellors," he said; "there is all the
greater need for one who will tender him honest advice. I have ventured
my life freely for France; you would not have me turn coward in my old
age?"
"To die on the field of battle, my lord," exclaimed one of his oldest
comrades in arms, "and to be stabbed in the back by a cowardly assassin
are two very different things."
"You love me over-much," replied the Admiral, placing a hand
affectionately on his shoulder; "you are too tender of my welfare. What
is one man's life compared with the good of France?"
"Very little, my lord, except when the man is yourself, and then it
becomes everything!"
"Well," replied Coligny, "at the least we can ponder his majesty's
request."
"He will go," declared Felix that evening; "his mind is made up. With
him France is first, second, and third; Coligny is nowhere."
"The king may really mean well," I suggested.
"If he doesn't," said Felix, "and any harm happens to our chief, the
House of Valois will rue it! We will clear them out, root and branch."
My comrade foretold the Admiral's decision correctly. With his eyes wide
open to the terrible risk, he elected to place himself in the king's
power, in the hope of healing the wounds from which France was still
bleeding.
Jeanne was so happy with her royal mistress that I felt no misgiving in
leaving her, and for myself I was not sorry to exchange the confinement
of Rochelle for a more active life. Besides, I could not help reflecting
that it was to the Admiral's influence I looked for the recovery of my
father's estates.
The evening before leaving La Rochelle I went to take farewell of my
sister. "If Roger Braund should return during our absence," I said, "you
can tell him we have gone to Blois and perhaps to Paris. What is it,
sweetheart?" for at this, a wave of colour spread over her fair face.
"'Tis nothing, brother," said she, gazing earnestly at the ground, "only
this very morning the master of an English ship brought me a note from
him."
"A note for you! 'Tis strange he did not write to me!"
"He speaks of you in his letter, and hopes you are well. There is some
trouble at Court" he says, "and he cannot obtain his queen's permission
to leave the country."
"Then we have seen the last of him. I am sorry."
"He thinks he may be able to come in a few months," she continued, but,
strangely enough, she did not show me his letter, nor did she mention
the subject to Felix, who presently joined us.
The next morning, to the visible anxiety of our friends, we rode out
from the city, fifty strong, with the Admiral at our head. We journeyed
pleasantly and at our leisure to Blois, where the king accorded our
chief a most gracious and kindly reception. If he really meditated
treachery, he was a most accomplished actor.
His gentlemen entertained us with lavish hospitality, and, though there
were occasionally sharp differences of opinion, we got on very well
together. When the king treated our leader so affectionately, calling
him "Father," and placing his arm round his neck, the members of the
royal household could not afford to be churlish.
One morning I chanced to be in attendance on the Admiral when he and the
king were taking a turn in the grounds. Felix and two or three of the
king's gentlemen were with me, and we were all chatting pleasantly
together when my patron, turning round, beckoned me to approach.
"This is the young man, sire," he said; "he comes from a good family,
and I have proved him to be a trusty servant."
"My dear Admiral," cried Charles, "a word from you is sufficient
recommendation. But there are forms to be observed, and you would not
have me override the Parliament! Eh, my dear Admiral, you would not have
me do that," and he laughed roguishly.
"I would have you do nothing unjustly, sire, but I would have you set
the wrong right, and this is a foul wrong. The Sieur Le Blanc did
nothing more than any other Huguenot gentleman. Why was he outlawed, and
a price set on his head, and his property confiscated?"
"Upon my word," exclaimed Charles, looking very foolish, "I do not
know!"
"You were pleased at St. Jean d'Angely to call him a very gallant
gentleman."
"At D'Angely?" echoed the king. "Are you speaking of the man who set us
so long at defiance? My brother was not well pleased with him."
"Your brother, sire, does not rule France."
"No, by St. James!" cried Charles, with sudden fury, "and while I live
he never shall! I am the king, and what I wish shall be done. This Le
Blanc who fought at D'Angely was as brave a soldier as ever drew sword.
Had he been on our side, I would have made him a marshal. I swear it!"
"He fought against you, sire, but it was for what he thought right."
"Perhaps he was right," said Charles. "Why can't we all live at peace
with each other? When we have finished cutting each other's throats, the
Spaniards will step in and seize the country. I am not a fool, though my
brother thinks I am!"
"While France remains true to herself, sire, Spain can do her no harm.
And a generous action, your majesty, goes far toward gaining a nation's
love."
"You wish me to restore this young man's estates? They shall be
restored, my dear Admiral; I will look into the matter on my return to
Paris. There will be papers to sign--it seems to me I am always signing
papers, principally to please my mother and Monseigneur--in this I will
please myself."
"I thank you, sire, not only for myself, but for Henry of Beam, whose
life the youth had the good fortune to save, and who is greatly
interested in him."
"If it will please Henry of Beam," said the king with an interest for
which I could not account, but which became clearer afterwards, "that is
a further reason why I should have justice done. Let the young man go to
his estates whenever he pleases; I will see that whatever forms are
necessary are made out."
At that I thanked his majesty very respectfully, and at a sign from my
patron fell back to rejoin my companions. I said nothing to Felix then
concerning this conversation, but at night, when we were alone, I told
him of the king's promise.
"He will keep his word," said my comrade, "unless Anjou gets hold of
him. But if Anjou has promised the estates to his tool, I foresee
difficulties."
"Surely the king is master of his own actions!" I remarked.
My comrade laughed. "He is a mere puppet; his mother and Anjou between
them pull the strings as they please. Charles is a weakling, Edmond, and
easily swayed by other people's opinions."
"He seems to be under the Admiral's influence just at present."
"Yes; it is when he returns to Paris that the trouble will begin. The
other side will work hard to drive him away from our patron."
A fortnight passed before I heard anything more of the subject, and I
was beginning to feel somewhat doubtful of the king's good faith when
one morning the Admiral sent for me.
"His majesty is returning to Paris, Le Blanc," he said, "and I am going
for a short while to Chatillon. He has promised to set things right for
you, but he may forget, and I shall not be with him."
"It is very kind of you to think of my troubles, my lord."
"I must be true to those who are true to me," he replied graciously,
"and I am still deeply in your debt. Now, what is to be done? Until the
papers are signed, your tenants must continue to pay their rents to the
crown; but it may be as well for you to take the king at his word, and
go to your estates. Of course, you will need money, but, fortunately, I
can supply that."
"You are indeed generous, my lord; but there is another objection," I
stammered out awkwardly.
"What is that?" he asked
"My duty to yourself, my lord. It is not the part of a gentleman of
France to leave his chief in danger."
"But I am not in danger, my boy! France is at peace; the king is my
friend; we have blotted out the past. Still, should the time come when I
have need of a trusty sword, I shall not fail to send for Edmond Le
Blanc. I leave Blois in two or three days, but before then I will send
my chaplain to you. Keep a stout heart; the king is anxious to stand
well with Prince Henry, who will not forget to press your claims."
I took my leave of him with heart-felt gratitude, and sought my
comrade, whose face clouded as he listened to my story.
"'Tis good advice, Edmond," he exclaimed dolefully, "and it is selfish
in me to feel sorry; but it puts an end to our comradeship."
"Say, rather, it breaks it for a time," I suggested. "As soon as the
affair is settled I shall come back."
"Will you?" he cried delightedly; "then I hope the king will sign the
papers directly he reaches Paris. I shall be miserable until your
return."
"The pleasures of the capital will help to keep up your spirits," I
laughed. "It will be a novelty to see our friends attending the royal
banquets and receptions. Monseigneur and the Guises will be charmed with
your society."
"It is a big risk," he remarked thoughtfully. "I wonder how it will all
end?" and I hardly liked to answer the question even to myself.
The next day the chaplain brought me a purse of money, with a kindly
message from the chief, who had gone to attend the king, and I told
Jacques to prepare for setting out early in the morning.
"Are we going to Paris?" he asked, and I laughed at the amazed
expression of his face on hearing that we were about to return home.
"'Tis a long story," I said, "but there will be ample time to tell it on
the journey."
I wished my comrades farewell, and early in the morning took my
departure from Blois, Felix riding a short distance with me.
"I would we were travelling the whole journey together," he said; "but
as that is out of the question I shall pray for your speedy return.
Good-bye, Edmond, till we meet again."
"And may that be soon!" I exclaimed warmly.