Meanwhile the words, "The king! the king!" repeated by the sentinel
rather as a warning to his fellows than as a mark of respect, were
taken up by several voices, and at last reached the fort. Thereupon a
man appeared upon the crown of the ramparts, and the whole garrison
gathered about him.
He raised his staff of office; immediately the drums beat the salute,
the soldiers presented arms, and a heavy gun boomed solemnly.
"You see," said the queen, "they are coming to their senses at
last,--better late than never. Let us go on."
"Pardon, madame," said Maréchal de La Meilleraie, "but I cannot see
that they are making any movement to throw open the gates, and we
cannot enter unless the gates are open."
"They have forgotten to do it in the surprise and excitement caused by
this august and unexpected visit," a courtier ventured to suggest.
"Such things are not forgotten, monsieur," the marshal replied. "Will
your Majesties deign to listen to a word of advice from me?" he added,
turning to the king and queen.
"What is it, marshal?"
"Your Majesties should withdraw to the distance of five Hundred yards
with Guitaut and the guards, while I ride forward with the musketeers
and light-horse, and reconnoitre the place."
The queen replied with a single word.
"Forward!" said she. "We will see if they will dare refuse to let us
pass."
The young king, in his delight, drove his spurs into his horse, and
galloped ahead of the others.
The marshal and Guitaut darted forward and overtook him.
"You cannot pass!" said the sentinel, still maintaining his hostile
attitude.
"It is the king!" cried the pages.
"Halt!" cried the sentinel, with a threatening gesture. At the same
moment the hats and muskets of the soldiers assigned to the defence of
the outermost intrenchment appeared above the parapet.
A prolonged murmur greeted the sentinel's words and hostile
demonstrations. Monsieur de La Meilleraie seized the bit of the king's
horse, and turned him around, at the same time bidding the queen's
coachman to turn and drive back. The two insulted majesties withdrew
some seven or eight hundred yards, while their attendants scattered
like a flock of birds at the report of the hunter's rifle.
Maréchal de La Meilleraie, master of the situation, left some fifty men
as escort for the king and queen, and with the rest of his force rode
back toward the fortifications.
When he was within a hundred yards of the moat, the sentinel, who had
resumed his calm and measured tread, halted once more.
"Take a trumpet, put a handkerchief on the end of your sword, Guitaut,"
said the marshal, "and summon this insolent governor to open his gates."
Guitaut obeyed; he hoisted the emblem of peace, which affords
protection to heralds in all civilized countries, and went forward
toward the intrenchment.
"Qui vive?" cried the sentry.
"Flag of truce," Guitaut replied, waving his sword, with the bit of
cloth at the end.
"Let him approach," said the same man who had previously appeared upon
the rampart of the main fort, and who had doubtless reached the outwork
by an underground passage.
The gate opened, and a drawbridge was lowered.
"What is your errand?" demanded an officer who was awaiting Guitaut at
the gate.
"To speak to the governor," he replied.
"I am he," said the man, who had been seen twice already.
Guitaut noticed that he was very pale, but tranquil and courteous.
"Are you the governor of Vayres?" Guitaut asked.
"Yes, monsieur."
"And you decline to open the doors of your fortress to his Majesty the
king, and the queen regent?"
"I regret that I must so decline."
"What do you demand?"
"The liberty of Messieurs les Princes, whose captivity is bringing ruin
and desolation upon the kingdom."
"His Majesty does not chaffer with his subjects."
"Alas! monsieur, we know it; and for that reason we are prepared to
die, knowing that we shall die in his Majesty's service, although we
seem to be making war upon him."
"'Tis well," said Guitaut; "that is all we wished to know."
With a brusque nod to the governor, who replied with a most courteous
salute, he withdrew.
There was no movement discernible upon the bastion.
Guitaut rejoined the marshal, and reported the result of his mission.
"Let fifty men ride at full speed to yonder village," said the marshal,
pointing toward the hamlet of Isson, "and bring hither instantly all
the ladders they can find."
Fifty men rode off at a gallop, and very soon reached the village,
which was only a short distance away.
"Now, messieurs," said the marshal, "dismount. Half of you, armed with
muskets, will cover the other half, as they scale the ramparts."
The command was greeted with joyful shouts. Guards, musketeers, and
light-horse were on the ground in an instant, loading their weapons.
Meanwhile the fifty foragers returned with some twenty ladders.
Everything was quiet within the fortification; the sentinel paced up
and down, and the ends of the musket-barrels and the peaked hats could
still be seen over the parapet.
The king's household marched forward, led by the marshal in person.
It was composed of about four hundred men in all, half of whom made
ready to carry the outwork by assault, and the other half to cover the
operation.
The king, the queen, and their suite followed the movements of the
little troop from afar, with keen anxiety.
The queen seemed to have lost all her assurance. In order to have a
better view of what was taking place, she caused her carriage to be
partly turned, so that it stood side wise to the fortification.
The assailants had taken but a few steps when the sentinel came to the
outer edge of the rampart.
"Qui vive?" he cried in a stentorian voice.
"Make no reply," said Monsieur de La Meilleraie, "but march on."
"Qui vive?" cried the sentinel a second time, putting his musket to his
shoulder.
"Qui vive?" the challenge rang out a third time, and the sentinel
levelled his weapon.
"Fire on the villain!" said Monsieur de La Meilleraie.
Instantly the royalist ranks poured forth a volley; the sentinel
staggered, dropped his musket, which rolled down into the moat, and
fell, crying:--
"To arms!"
This beginning of hostilities was answered by a single cannon-shot. The
ball whistled over the heads of the first rank, ploughed through the
second and third, killed four men, and eventually disembowelled one of
the horses attached to the queen's carriage.
A cry of alarm went up from the party in attendance upon their
Majesties; the king was forced to fall back still farther; Anne of
Austria was near fainting with rage, and Mazarin with fear. The traces
of the dead horse were cut, and those of the living horses as well, for
they threatened to wreck the carriage with their terrified plunging and
rearing. Eight or ten of the guards took their places, and drew the
queen out of range.
Meanwhile the governor unmasked a battery of six pieces.
When Monsieur de La Meilleraie saw that battery, which would be likely
to make short work of his three companies, he thought that it would be
injudicious to proceed further with the attack, and ordered a retreat.
The moment that the king's household took its first backward step, the
hostile preparations exhibited in the fortress disappeared.
The marshal returned to the queen, and requested her to select some
spot in the neighborhood for her headquarters. Thereupon the queen,
looking about, espied the small house on the other side of the
Dordogne, standing by itself among the trees.
"Ascertain to whom yonder house belongs," she said to Guitaut, "and
request accommodations for me therein."
Guitaut crossed the river in the Isson ferry-boat, and soon returned,
to say that the house was unoccupied save by a sort of intendant, who
said that it belonged to Monsieur le Duc d'Épernon, and was altogether
at her Majesty's service.
"Let us go thither, in that case," said the queen; "but where is the
king?"
The little fellow was found to have ridden apart a short distance; he
returned when he heard them calling him, and although he tried to hide
his tears, it was very evident that he had been weeping.
"What's the matter, sire?" the queen asked him.
"Oh! nothing, madame," the child replied, "except that some day I shall
be king, and then--woe to them who have injured me!"
"What is the governor's name?" the queen inquired.
No one was able to tell her, until they asked the question of the
ferryman, who replied that his name was Richon.
"'Tis well," said the queen. "I will remember that name."
"And so will I," said the young king.