although taken entirely by surprise by this alarming method of defence,
no one was wounded save Pagolo; he was so overburdened with his double
cuirass that he could not fall back so quickly as the others, and was
wounded in the heel.
Hermann himself was no more disturbed by this shower of pebbles than an
oak tree by a hail-storm, and kept on to the door, where he at once set
to work and began to deal such blows against it that it soon became
evident that, stout as it was, it could not long withstand such
treatment.
Benvenuto and his men meanwhile stood ready with their arquebuses to
fire upon anybody who might appear upon the wall, but no one appeared.
The Grand-Nesle seemed to be defended by an invisible garrison, and
Benvenuto raged inwardly at his inability to do anything to assist the
dauntless German. Suddenly he happened to glance at the old Tour de
Nesle, which stood by itself, as we have said, on the other side of the
quay, and bathed its feet in the Seine.
"Wait, Hermann," cried Cellini, "wait, my good fellow; the Hôtel de
Nesle is ours as surely as my name is Benvenuto Cellini, and I am a
goldsmith by trade."
Motioning to Ascanio and his two companions to follow him, he ran to the
tower, while Hermann, in obedience to his orders, stepped back out of
range of the stones, and awaited the fulfilment of the general's
promise, leaning upon his timber as a Swiss would lean upon his halberd.
As Benvenuto anticipated, the provost had neglected to station a guard
in the old tower, so that he took possession of it unopposed, and,
running up the stairs, four at a leap, reached the summit in a moment;
the terrace overlooked the walls of the Grand-Nesle, as a steeple
overlooks a town, so that the besieged, who a moment before were
sheltered by their ramparts, suddenly found themselves entirely
unprotected.
The report of an arquebus and the hissing of a bullet, followed by the
fall of an archer, warned the provost that the face of affairs was in
all probability about to change.
At the same moment Hermann, realizing that he would now have a free
field, resumed his joist, and began to batter away again at the door,
which the besieged had strengthened somewhat during the momentary
suspension of hostilities.
The crowd, with the marvellous instinct of self-possession always
noticeable in such bodies, realized that shooting was to form part of
the entertainment, and that spectators of the tragedy about to be
enacted were likely to be splashed with blood; and they no sooner heard
the report of Benvenuto's arquebus and the cry of the wounded archer
than they dispersed like a flock of pigeons.
A single individual remained.
This was no other than our friend, Jacques Aubry, the student, who had
kept the appointment made the preceding Sunday with Ascanio, in the hope
of enjoying his game of tennis.
He had but to east a glance over the battle-field to understand what was
going on.
It is not difficult to divine the determination arrived at by Jacques
Aubry, from what we have already seen of his character. To play at
tennis or with fire-arms was equally sport to him; and as he guessed
that the besiegers were most likely to be his friends, he enlisted under
their banner.
"Well, my boys," he said, walking up to the group which was waiting for
the door to be burst in to rush into the citadel, "we are having a bit
of a siege, are we? Peste! you're not attacking a cabin, and it's a
good deal of an undertaking for so few of you to try to take a strong
place like this."
"We are not alone," said Pagolo, who was dressing his heel; and he
pointed to Benvenuto and his three or four companions, who were keeping
up such a well sustained fire upon the wall that the stones were falling
much less freely than at first.
"I see, I see, Master Achilles," said Jacques Aubry, "for you are like
him in being wounded in the heel, in addition to a thousand other points
of similarity, no doubt. I see: yes, there's my friend Ascanio, and the
master doubtless, on top of the tower yonder."
"Very true," said Pagolo.
"And that fellow banging away at the door so lustily is one of you also,
isn't he?"
"That's Hermann," said little Jehan proudly.
"Peste! how he goes on!" said the student. "I must go and congratulate
him."
He sauntered along with his hands in his pockets, regardless of the
bullets whistling above his head, to the brave German, who kept at his
task with the regularity of a machine.
"Do you need anything, my dear Goliath?" said Jacques Aubry. "I am at
your service."
"I am thirsty," replied Hermann, without pausing in his work.
"Peste! I can well believe it; that's thirsty work you're doing there,
and I wish I had a cask of beer to offer you."
"Water!" said Hermann, "water!"
"Do you mean that mild beverage will satisfy you? So be it. The
river is at hand, and you shall be served in a moment."
Jacques ran to the river, filled his helmet with water, and took it to
the German. He leaned his beam against the wall, swallowed at a draught
all that the helmet contained, and handed it back to the student empty.
"Thanks," he said, and, taking up the beam once more, he resumed his
work.
An instant later he said, "Go and tell the master to be in readiness,
for we are getting on famously here."
Jacques Aubry started for the tower, and in a very few moments he stood
between Ascanio and Benvenuto, who were keeping up such a brisk and
effective fire that they had already shot down two or three men, and the
provost's archers were beginning to' think twice before showing
themselves upon the walls.
Meanwhile, as Hermann had sent word to Benvenuto, the door was beginning
to yield, and the provost resolved to make one last effort; he cheered
on his men to such good purpose that the stones began to rain down once
more. But two or three arquebus shots speedily calmed anew the ardor of
the besieged, who, despite all Messire Robert's promises and
remonstrances, coyly remained out of range. Thereupon Messire Robert
himself appeared, alone, carrying in his hands an enormous stone, and
made ready to hurl it down upon Hermann's head.
But Benvenuto was not the man to allow his retainer to be taken by
surprise. As soon as he caught sight of the provost rashly venturing
where no one else ventured to go, he put his weapon to his shoulder; it
would have been all up with Messire Robert, had not Ascanio, just as
Cellini pulled the trigger, thrown up the barrel with a quick motion of
his hand accompanied by a sharp exclamation, so that the bullet whistled
harmlessly through the air. Ascanio had recognized Colombe's father.
As Benvenuto turned furiously upon him to demand an explanation, the
stone, thrown with all the force the provost could impart to it, fell
full upon Hermann's helmet. Even the enormous strength of the modern
Titan was not equal to the task of sustaining such a blow; he relaxed
his hold of the timber, threw out his arms as if seeking something to
cling to, and, finding nothing within reach, fell to the ground
unconscious, with a terrible crash.
Besieged and besiegers simultaneously set up a shout. Little Jehan and
three or four comrades who were near Hermann ran to him to carry him
away from the wall, and look to his injuries; but the large and small
doors of the Hôtel de Nesle opened at the same moment, and the provost,
at the head of twelve or fifteen men, darted upon the wounded man,
cutting and slashing vigorously, as did all his followers, so that Jehan
and his comrades were forced to retreat, although Benvenuto was shouting
to them to hold their ground, and that he would come and help them. The
provost seized the opportunity; eight of his men lifted Hermann, who was
still unconscious, by the arms and legs, and seven took up a position to
protect their retreat, so that, while Cellini, Ascanio, and their three
or four comrades on the terrace of the tower were hurrying down the four
or five flights of stairs which lay between them and the street, Hermann
and his bearers re-entered the Grand-Nesle. When Cellini, arquebus in
hand, appeared at the door of the tower, the door of the Hôtel was just
closing behind the last of the provost's men-at-arms.
There was no disguising the fact that this was a check, and a serious
check at that. Cellini, Ascanio, and their comrades had, it is true,
disabled three or four of the besieged, but the loss of these three or
four men was much less disastrous to the provost, than was the loss of
Hermann to Cellini.
The besiegers were dazed for a moment.
Suddenly Ascanio and Cellini looked at each other, as if by a common
impulse.
"I have a plan," said Cellini, looking to the left, that is to say,
toward the city.
"And so have I," Ascanio rejoined, looking to the right, that is to say,
toward the fields.
"I have devised a plan to bring the garrison out of the castle."
"And I a plan to open the door for you, if you do bring them out."
"How many men do you need?"
"A single one will suffice."
"Choose."
"Will you come with me, Jacques Aubry?" said Ascanio.
"To the end of the world, my dear fellow, to the end of the world. But I
shouldn't be sorry to have some sort of a weapon, the end of a sword for
instance, or a suspicion of a dagger--four or five inches of steel to
feel my way with if occasion requires."
"Oh, take Pagolo's sword," said Ascanio; "he can't use it, for he's
nursing his heel with his right hand and crossing himself with the
other."
"And here's my own dagger to complete your outfit," said Cellini.
"Strike with it all you please, young man, but do not leave it in the
wound; it would be altogether too handsome a present to the wounded man,
for the hilt was carved by myself, and is worth a hundred golden crowns,
if it is worth a sou."
"And the blade?" queried Jacques Aubry. "The hilt is very valuable, no
doubt, but at such a time the blade is of the greatest importance to my
mind."
"The blade is priceless," rejoined Benvenuto; "with it I killed my
brother's murderer."
"Bravo!" cried the student. "Come, Ascanio, let's be off."
"I am ready," said Ascanio, winding five or six lengths of rope around
his body, and putting one of the ladders over his shoulder,--"I am
ready."
The two venturesome youths walked along the quay a hundred yards or
thereabouts, then turned to the left, and disappeared around the corner
of the wall of the Grand-Nesle, behind the city moat.
Let us leave Ascanio to carry out his scheme, and follow Cellini in the
development of his.
The objects upon which his eyes rested, when, as we have said, he looked
toward the left, that is, in the direction of the city, were two women,
standing amid a group of timid spectators at some little distance,--two
women, in whom he thought he recognized the provost's daughter and her
governess.
They were in fact Colombe and Dame Perrine, who, after hearing mass, set
out to return to the Petit-Nesle, and had come to a stand-still in the
crowd, trembling with alarm on account of what they had heard of the
siege that was in progress, and of what they saw with their own eyes.
But Colombe no sooner perceived that there was a momentary cessation of
hostilities, which left the road open for her, than, heedless of the
entreaties of Dame Perrine, who begged her not to risk her safety in the
tumult, she went forward resolutely, impelled by her anxiety for her
father, and leaving Dame Perrine entirely free to follow her or to
remain where she was. As the duenna was really deeply attached to her
charge, she determined to accompany her, notwithstanding her fright.
They left the group just as Ascanio and Jacques Aubry turned the corner
of the wall.
Now Benvenuto Cellini's plan may be divined.
As soon as he saw the two women coming toward him, he himself stepped
forward to meet them, and gallantly offered his arm to Colombe.
"Have no fear, madame," he said; "if you will deign to accept my arm I
will escort you to your father."
Colombe hesitated, but Dame Perrine seized the arm on her side which
Benvenuto had forgotten to offer her.
"Take his arm, my dear, take it," she said, "and let us accept this
noble knight's protection. Look, look! there is Monsieur le Prévôt,
leaning over the wall: he is anxious about us, no doubt."
Colombe took Benvenuto's arm, and the three walked to within a step or
two of the door.
There Cellini stopped, and said to the provost in a loud voice, making
sure that Colombe's arm and Dame Perrine's were safely within his own:--
"Monsieur le Prévôt, your daughter who is here desires to enter; I
trust that you will open the door to her, unless you prefer to leave so
charming a hostage in your enemy's hands."
Twenty times within two hours the provost, behind his ramparts, had
thought of his daughter, whom he had so imprudently allowed to go out,
being in considerable doubt as to the possibility of admitting her
again. He was hoping that she would be warned in time, and would be wise
enough to go to the Grand Châtelet and await results, when he saw
Cellini leave his companions and go to meet two women, in whom he
recognized Colombe and Dame Perrine.
"The little fool!" he muttered beneath his breath; "but I can't leave
her in the midst of these miscreants."
He opened the wicket, and showed his face behind the grating.
"Well," said he, "what are your terms!"
"These," said Benvenuto. "I will allow Madame Colombe and her governess
to enter, but only on condition that you come forth with all your men,
and we will then decide our dispute by a fair fight in the open. They
who remain in possession of the battle-field shall have the Hôtel de
Nesle; '_Vœ victis_!' as your compatriot Brennus said."
"I accept," said the provost, "on one condition."
"What is it?"
"That you and your people stand back to give my daughter time to come in
and my archers time to go out."
"Agreed," said Cellini; "but do you come out first, and let Madame
Colombe go in afterward; when she is safely inside, you will throw the
key over the wall to her, and thus leave yourself no opportunity to
retreat."
"Agreed," said the provost.
"Your word?"
"On the faith of a gentleman. And yours!"
"On the faith of Benvenuto Cellini."
These terms being agreed upon, the door opened, and the provost's
retainers filed out, and drew up in two rows before the door, Messire
d'Estourville at their head. They were nineteen in all. On the other
side, Benvenuto, without Ascanio, Hermann, and Jacques Aubry, had but
eight men remaining, and of these Simon-le-Gaucher was wounded,--luckily
in the right hand. But Benvenuto was not given to counting his foes; it
will be remembered that he did not hesitate to attack Pompeo
single-handed, although he was attended by a dozen sbirri. He was only
too glad, therefore, to abide by his agreement, for he desired nothing
so much as a general and decisive action.
"You may go in now, madame," he said to his fair prisoner.
Colombe flew across the space which lay between the two camps as swiftly
as the bird whose name she bore, and threw herself panting into the
provost's arms.
"Father! father!" she cried, weeping, "in Heaven's name, do not expose
yourself!"
"Go inside!" said the provost sharply, taking her by the arm, and
leading her to the door; "'t is your folly that reduces us to this
extremity."
Colombe passed through the door, followed by Dame Perrine, to whom fear
had lent, if not wings, as to her lovely ward, at least legs, which she
thought she had lost ten years before.
The provost closed the door behind them.
"The key! the key!" cried Cellini.
True to his promise, the provost took the key from the lock and threw it
over the wall, so that it fell into the courtyard.
"And now," cried Benvenuto, rushing upon the provost and his troop,
"every man for himself, and God for us all!"
A terrible struggle ensued, for before the provost's people had time to
lower their weapons and fire, Benvenuto with his seven workmen was in
their midst, slashing to right and left with the terrible sword which he
handled in such masterly fashion, and which, forged by his own hand, met
few coats of mail or breastplates able to resist it. The soldiers
thereupon cast aside their useless arquebuses, drew their swords, and
began to cut and thrust in return. But, despite their numbers and their
gallantry, in less time than it takes to write the words, they were
scattered all about the square, and two or three of the bravest, wounded
so severely that they could tight no longer, were forced to fall back.
The provost saw the danger, and being a brave man, who in his time had
achieved some fame as a fighting man, he rushed forward to confront this
redoubtable Benvenuto Cellini, whom nobody seemed able to withstand.
"To me!" he cried; "to me, infamous robber! and let us decide the
affair! What say you?"
"Oh! I could ask nothing better," replied Benvenuto. "If you will bid
your people not to interfere with us, I am your man."
"Stand where you are!" said the provost to his men.
"Let not one of you stir!" said Cellini to his.
And the combatants on either side stood rooted in their places, silent
and motionless, like the Homeric warriors, who ceased their own fighting
in order to miss no part of a contest between two renowned chiefs.
Thereupon the provost and Cellini, each of whom already held his naked
sword in his hand, attacked each other at the same instant.
The provost was a clever fencer, but Cellini's skill in that direction
was of the very first order. For ten or twelve years past the provost
had not once had occasion to draw his sword. On the other hand, during
those same ten or twelve years hardly a day had passed that Benvenuto
had not had or made an occasion to draw his. At the outset, therefore,
the provost, who had counted a little too much upon his own prowess,
became conscious of his enemy's superiority.
Cellini, for his part, meeting with a resistance which he hardly
anticipated from a man of the robe, exerted all the energy, activity,
and cunning of which he was capable. It was a marvellous thing to watch
his sword, which, like the triple sting of a serpent, threatened the
head and the heart at the same instant, flying from place to place, and
hardly giving his adversary time to parry, much less to make a single
thrust. And so the provost, realizing that he had to do with one
stronger than himself, began to give ground, still defending himself,
however. Unluckily for Messire Robert, his back was toward the wall, so
that a very few steps brought him up against the door, for which he
instinctively aimed, although he was well aware that he had thrown the
key over the wall.
When he reached that point he felt that he was lost, and like a wild
boar at bay, he summoned all his strength, and delivered three or four
lusty blows in such rapid succession that it was Benvenuto's turn to
parry: once indeed he was a second too late, and his adversary's blade
grazed his breast, despite the excellent coat of mail he wore. But, like
a wounded lion bent upon speedy vengeance, Benvenuto, the moment that he
felt the sharp point of the sword, gathered himself for a spring, and
would have run the provost through with a deadly lunge, had not the door
behind him suddenly given way at that moment, so that Messire
d'Estourville fell over backwards, and the sword came in contact with
the individual who had saved him by opening the door so unexpectedly.
But the result was different from what might have been expected, for the
wounded man said nothing, while Benvenuto gave utterance to a terrible
cry. He had recognized Ascanio in the man whom he had unintentionally
wounded. He had no eyes for Hermann or for Jacques Aubry, who stood
behind his victim. Like a madman, he threw his arms around the young
man's neck, seeking the wound with his eyes and his hand and his mouth,
and crying:--
"Slain, slain, slain by my hand! Ascanio, my child, I have killed thee!"
and roaring and weeping, as lions roar and weep.
Meanwhile Hermann extricated the provost, unharmed, from between
Ascanio's and Cellini's legs, and, taking him under his arm as he might
have done with a baby, deposited him in a little house where Raimbault
kept his gardening tools. He locked the door upon him, drew his sword,
and assumed a posture indicative of his purpose to defend his prisoner
against any one who might undertake to recapture him.
Jacques Aubry made but one bound from the pavement to the top of the
wall, brandishing his dagger triumphantly, and shouting: "Blow,
trumpets, blow! the Grand-Nesle is ours!"
How all these surprising things had come to pass the reader will
discover in the following chapter.
[Footnote 4: Left-handed.]
X
OF THE ADVANTAGE OF FORTIFIED TOWNS
The Hôtel de Nesle, on the side bounded by the Pré-aux-Clercs, was
doubly defended by its walls and by the city moat, so that on that side
it was considered impregnable. Now Ascanio very sensibly reflected that
it is seldom deemed necessary to guard what cannot be taken, and he
determined to make an attack upon the point where the besieged had not
thought of providing against one.
With that object in view he set out with his friend Jacques Aubry, not
dreaming that, as he disappeared in one direction, Colombe would appear
in the other, and provide Benvenuto with a means of compelling the
provost to adopt a course which he was most reluctant to adopt.
Ascanio's scheme was very difficult of execution, and very dangerous in
its possible results. He proposed to cross a deep moat, scale a wall
twenty-five feet high, and at the end perhaps fall into the midst of the
enemy. Not till he arrived at the brink of the moat and of his
enterprise did he realize the difficulty of crossing the one and
carrying through the other; and then his determination, firm as it was
at the outset, wavered for an instant.
Jacques Aubry halted some ten or twelve paces behind his friend, and
stood tranquilly gazing from the wall to the moat. Having measured them
both with his eye, he said:--
"I beg you, my dear fellow, to have the kindness to inform me why you
bring me hither, unless it be to fish for frogs. Ah! yes,--you glance at
your ladder. Very good. I understand. But your ladder is only twelve
feet long, while the wall is twenty-five feet high and the moat ten
wide, which makes a difference of twenty-three feet, if my reckoning is
correct."
Ascanio was taken aback for a moment by this unanswerable arithmetic;
but suddenly he cried, striking his forehead with his hand:--
"Ah! I have an idea! Look!"
"Where?"
"There!" said Ascanio; "there!"
"That's not an idea you are pointing at," rejoined the student, "but an
oak tree."
There was in truth a huge oak growing near the outer edge of the moat,
the upper branches of which gazed inquisitively over the wall of the
Séjour de Nesle.
"What? don't you understand?" cried Ascanio.
"Yes! yes! I begin to see through it now. Yes, it's the very thing. I
see it all. The oak and the wall form part of the arch of a bridge which
your ladder will complete: but the abyss yawns beneath, my friend, and
an abyss full of mud. The devil! we mustn't forget that. I am wearing
my best clothes, and Simonne's husband is beginning to grumble about
giving me credit."
"Help me to hoist the ladder," said Ascanio; "that's all I ask of you."
"Aha!" said the student, "and I am to stay below! Thanks!"
Each of them seized a branch, and they were soon in the tree. By their
united strength they succeeded in pulling the ladder up after them to
the top of the tree, where they lowered it like a drawbridge, and found
to their intense satisfaction that while one end rested firmly upon a
stout branch, the other end extended two or three feet beyond the wall.
"But when we are upon the wall, what are we to do?" Aubry inquired.
"Why, when we're upon the wall we will pull the ladder after us, and go
down by it."
"Very good. There is only one trifling difficulty, and that is that the
wall is twenty-five feet high, and the ladder only twelve."
"I have provided for that," said Ascanio, unwinding the rope from his
body. He then made one end fast to the trunk of the tree, and threw the
other over the wall.
"Ah! great man, I understand you," cried Aubry, "and I am proud and
happy to break my neck with you."
"Very well! what do you propose to do?"
"Go across," and Aubry prepared to cross the space that lay between them
and the wall.
"No, no!" said Ascanio, "it is my place to go first."
"Which finger is wet?" said Aubry, holding out his hand to his companion
with two fingers open and two closed.
"So be it," said Ascanio, touching one of the two closed fingers.
"You have won," said Aubry. "Go on: but keep cool, don't get excited."
"Never fear."