I Miss a Grand Opportunity.
For several weeks now I stayed idly at Bruhl, having nothing to do
beyond an occasional turn of duty, which was really more a matter of
form than of aught else.
Underneath the peaceful surface there were, to shrewd observers, signs
of a stirring agitation. Couriers came and went by night and day;
noblemen of high rank made mysterious visits, stayed a few hours, and
then disappeared; a rumour arose that the Cardinal had actually been
recalled to Court. It was even said that the order was contained in
the letter I had carried from Paris, but on that point I was still in
ignorance. By degrees, however, it became plain that the Cardinal had
resolved to return and I learned from Belloc that Marshal Hocquincourt
was busy raising an army to conduct him across France.
No one was more pleased to receive this news than Pillot, who could not
live happily without excitement. He uttered no complaint, but I knew
he was longing to be back in his loved Paris, from which he had never
before been so long absent. To Pillot the walls of the capital bounded
the one oasis in a desert world.
One evening, early in December, Belloc ordered me to be ready for a
start the next morning. The die was cast; Mazarin had made up his
mind, and I was to form one of the advance-guard in the journey to
Sedan.
"Bravo!" cried Pillot, joyfully; "it is time we moved, monsieur. I am
beginning to forget what Paris is like."
During the evening he was in a state of excitement, polishing my
weapons and setting them in order, running to the stables to attend to
the animals, and packing food for consumption on the march. As for
sleeping, I am nearly sure that he did not close his eyes all night.
The advance-guard formed a goodly cavalcade. Most of my comrades were
either sons of noblemen, or at least cadets of some distinguished
house. They were well-mounted and richly dressed, and all wore the
green scarf of Mazarin. Like Pillot, they were delighted at the idea
of returning to Paris again, and gave no thought to the fact that many
of them would never reach the city walls.
M. Belloc remained with the Cardinal, but I had made several new
friends, and the journey, though full of peril, was pleasant enough.
We youngsters laughed and joked, formed plans for the future, defeated
Conde many times over--in imagination--and, I think, each of us
secretly felt sure of becoming a Marshal of France. The older ones
shook their heads, foretelling a long and difficult campaign, but we
paid scant heed to their melancholy prophecies.
Pillot, who travelled with the attendants, made me an object of envy to
my comrades. Never was there such a capital servant or one so full of
contrivances. Once, through some stupid mistake, we were compelled to
halt for the night on a dreary, barren waste. It was bitterly cold,
being almost mid-winter; we had no tents, and indeed no other shelter
than our cloaks.
The young nobles stamped about in high dudgeon, bidding their
attendants light fires and bring food, though there was no wood to be
seen, and the last of the provisions had been eaten in the morning.
The poor lackeys raced about here and there endeavouring to accomplish
what was quite out of the question, but the exercise at least kept them
warm. I did not call Pillot, and, indeed, two minutes after the order
to halt he had vanished. I thought it odd, but made no remark, and
dismounting like the others walked about briskly to restore the
circulation in my numbed limbs.
Presently some one nudged my elbow, and a voice whispered softly, "Let
monsieur choose three of his friends and follow me."
Rather astonished, I sought out three of my comrades and we followed
the dwarf, who led us perhaps two hundred yards, and stopped at a
sheltered gully.
"Those who come first get the best seats," said he, and going down on
his knees fumbled about for a time, till at last we broke into an
exclamation of delight.
"A fire!" cried one.
"Pillot, you are a genius!" said I, and the other two declared he ought
to be made a nobleman.
How he managed it was a mystery, but there was the fire blazing
cheerfully, and in another moment a fowl spitted on a pike was roasting
in the flames. We overwhelmed Pillot with thanks, and what he
considered more to the purpose--gave him a share of the bird. It was
rather tough and very stringy, but when one is hungry these defects
pass as trifles.
Before long our fire attracted general attention, and as many as could
crowded around it. Then, not wishing to be selfish, we vacated our
seats in favour of others, and, wrapped in our mantles, lay down in the
shelter of the hollow. This was our worst hardship, and at length we
reached Sedan, where Mazarin, who arrived the next day, took up his
abode with Marshal Fabert.
In the early part of the year 1652, we moved once more, and, crossing
the frontier, re-entered France in triumph. Every day now added to our
strength. We were joined by Marshal Hocquincourt, who commanded 5000
soldiers, each wearing the green scarf of the Cardinal. Here and there
a number of officers rode up decorated with the same colours; town
after town opened its gates at the first summons, and Mazarin might
well have imagined that his period of exile was over.
"Well, Pillot," said I one evening, "what do you think of all this?"
"It is a fresh act in a comedy, monsieur, in which the next is not yet
written."
"Not even thought out, perhaps."
"There is no thinking, monsieur, or the play would become a tragedy.
As to your Mazarin, he may be flying for his life again to-morrow."
"I hardly think so; he has the young King on his side now."
"Well, well, monsieur, it matters little as long as we enter Paris.
After all that is the chief thing."
I did not answer him, but my mind turned to the frightful misery of the
district through which we were passing. The country lay unfilled for
miles; the woods swarmed with robbers; the peasants were dying of
starvation; the towns were filled with people who had neither work nor
food. Everything except fighting was at a standstill: trade was dead,
manufactures had ceased, and no one cared to sow the seed when others
would eat the crops.
A young officer in Hocquincourt's army informed us that affairs were
equally bad in Paris. Rendered desperate by hunger, the citizens were
up in arms, and no one's life was safe for a day. By a stroke of good
fortune the Queen-Mother had escaped from the city, and was now with
the young King at Poitiers. Of Raoul I could learn nothing, but the
Duke of Orleans was still see-sawing; now helping Conde, and again
endeavouring to make terms with the King. In these circumstances I
half expected to find my old comrade at Poitiers, where it was almost
certain John Humphreys would be.
Meanwhile we marched peacefully through the country, and the friends of
Conde, if the rebel prince possessed any friends in these parts,
remained very quiet, and most of the people cheered Mazarin as loudly
as they had before hooted him. At Poitiers itself we had a magnificent
reception. We marched along with drums beating and banners flying; the
road was lined with throngs of excited people cheering madly for the
army of the Cardinal, and presently a loud cry announced the coming of
the King.
Thunders of applause arose on all sides, and people screamed themselves
hoarse shouting, "_Vive le Roi!_" "_Vive Mazarin!_"
I caught a glimpse of the boy king and his young brother as they joined
the Cardinal, and rode with him to the town, where the Queen waited at
a window to see him pass. It must have been a proud moment for the man
who had once been ignominiously expelled from France.
As soon as the procession broke up, I instructed Pillot where to stable
the horses, and went about seeking Raoul and John Humphreys. The town
was filled with soldiers and officers of the Court, while thousands of
the troops were quartered in the neighbouring villages. I met several
old friends, but not Raoul, when suddenly I heard a hearty, "How are
you, De Lalande?" and there was the smiling face of an officer of the
Queen's Guards.
"John Humphreys!" I exclaimed, and then grasping the meaning of his new
uniform, "you have received a commission? Splendid! I knew from the
first it must come. Presently, my dear fellow, you must tell me all
about it, but first, do you know anything of Raoul Beauchamp? Is he
still at the Luxembourg, or has he joined the King?"
"Turenne has given him a commission in the royal army, and he is
quartered in one of the villages near. If you are not on duty we will
visit him."
"With all my heart! I have nothing in particular to do before the
morning."
"Very well; it is not far; we can walk easily."
The district round Poitiers had the appearance of a huge camp, and the
white scarves of the King mingled with the green ones of the Cardinal.
We moved with some difficulty, until, at last, getting clear of the
crowd, we reached the road, or rather cart-track leading to the village.
"There he is!" cried Humphreys presently. "Just returned, I warrant,
from visiting his troopers; he looks after them well," and, glancing
ahead, I observed my old comrade about to enter the village inn.
"Raoul!" I shouted, "Raoul!" and at the sound he turned back to meet us.
"I told you that De Lalande would come to no harm!" exclaimed Humphreys
with a laugh.
"He was as anxious as I, Albert," said Raoul. "We discovered that you
had escorted the ladies to Aunay, but after that no one could guess
what had become of you. Naturally, we expected to find you with the
army."
"Instead of which I was at Bruhl with the Cardinal. I concluded
Humphreys would guess what the secret service was."
"Come to my room," said Raoul; "we must hear your story."
As there could be no harm in mentioning the matter now, I related what
had passed, and they were much amused by Pillot's trick at Verdu.
"But you must keep out of Courcy's way for a time," said Raoul. "I
know him well, and he is a tremendous fire-eater. I expect he has
joined Conde in the field by now."
"Where is D'Arcy?"
"At the Luxembourg, and thoroughly miserable. He hates the idea of
supporting Conde against the King, but imagines he ought not to desert
the Duke of Orleans. Most of his comrades came with me, but he would
not. 'I am for Orleans,' he said, 'no matter whom he is against.' Of
course, he is right in a way."
"Not at all," declared Humphreys. "Conde is a rebel, and has assisted
the enemies of his own country. Every man should regard him as a
traitor."
"Well," said Raoul frankly, "it was his trafficking with the Spaniards
that decided me to fight against him. I am for France, whoever rules
the country."
"I am for the King," said Humphreys. "My father taught me to say, 'For
God and the King!' as soon as I could talk. That was my earliest
lesson."
"And yet your people cut off their king's head!"
"A set of sour knaves," he cried, "but the finest fighting men in the
world! You should have seen them at Naseby with their leader,
Cromwell! Old Noll we call him; he rules the country now, while Prince
Charles, the rightful king, is here in exile."
"When our own troubles are settled we will set your prince on his
throne," laughed Raoul. "Mazarin will provide him with an army, and
Albert and I will obtain commissions in it. Then we shall see your
country for ourselves."
"Ah," exclaimed Humphreys, "you do not understand the English any more
than I understand your Parisians. If Prince Charles crossed the water
now with a French army, he would never be king; his own friends would
fight against him. He must wait awhile till his people have recovered
their senses, then they will beg him to return."
"By the way," said I, "you have not told me yet how you won your
commission."
"A lucky accident; a mere trifle; what you call a bagatelle."
"Have you not heard?" inquired Raoul. "I must relate the story myself,
as our friend here is as modest as brave. The affair occurred at
Montrond, and the whole camp talked of it."
"Things were very dull just then," interrupted Humphreys.
"We were besieging the town," continued Raoul, "and one night the enemy
made a sortie. It took us by surprise; our outposts were rushed, a
dozen officers fell, and the troops were panic-stricken. General
Pallnau was with the Court, and the next in command lost his head. As
it chanced our friend was staying with me that night, and he stopped
the rout."
"No, no," said the Englishman, with a smile; "he is making too much of
it altogether."
"He saved the army at least. My quarters happened to be on a hill.
Conde's troops were pouring towards it; half our men had scattered, and
the others were wavering, when Humphreys sprang to the front, calling
us to rally. A few of us ran up, and only just in time. The enemy,
perceiving we held the key to the position, swarmed to the attack. We,
knowing how much depended on every minute's delay, stood our ground.
Once we rolled them back, but they came again. Our men fell fast, but
Humphreys was a host in himself, and through him we held on till the
runaways had time to re-form. Every one declared he had saved the
army, and he received his commission on the field."
"And the credit was as much Raoul's as mine," said Humphreys, "but
things go like that in this world. I suppose, now that Mazarin's
troops have reinforced us, we shall march south and fight Conde."
"It is possible, though there is a whisper that we are to move on
Angers. I wish we three could keep together."
"It would be splendid," said Raoul, "but we must make the most of our
opportunities," which, as long as the army remained in the
neighbourhood of Poitiers, we did.
Very soon, however, we advanced on Angers, and having captured that
town removed to Saumur. Here we were joined by Marshal Turenne, and
being too weak to reduce the important town of Orleans proceeded to
Gien. Raoul was quartered with his regiment some miles away, but
Humphreys and I were both stationed in the town. I was spending an
hour with him one evening when Pillot, in a tremendous hurry, came with
a message that M. Belloc wished to see me immediately.
"It must be something important, monsieur," said the dwarf, "as M.
Belloc ordered me to saddle the horses."
I found my old friend in a state of great agitation, and without giving
me time to speak he asked, "Do you know where Conde is?"
"In Guienne, monsieur."
"So we all thought, but it is a mistake. He is hurrying to take
command of the army of the Loire. A courier has just arrived with the
information, and we are despatching parties to capture him, dead or
alive. He is travelling with six companions, and will endeavour to
reach Chatillon. If he can be caught, we shall finish the war in a
week. You are well acquainted with the prince?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Take half a dozen troopers; ride to the bridge at Chatillon, and let
no one pass till I send permission."
"Very good, monsieur," and within ten minutes I was tearing along at
the head of my men as fast as my horse could gallop.
It was still fairly light when we arrived at the spot, and, leaving two
of the troopers on the bank to look after the horses, I ambushed the
others, and took up my own position so that no one could pass without
being challenged. Soon the light faded, the air grew chill, a gray
mist rose from the river. The men crouched silently in their hiding
places; the only sounds were the melancholy lapping of the water, and
the mournful cry of an occasional night-bird. M. Belloc's commission
was certainly an honour, but this watching was dreary work, and I
thought with regret of my cosy quarters.
It must have been an hour past midnight when Pillot, who had kept me
company, whispered softly, "Listen, monsieur! Do you hear the beat of
hoofs? I should say there are a couple of horsemen coming this way."
"Or more. No, there is only one."
"The others have stopped."
"Perhaps there was only one in the first instance. He is drawing
nearer now. Listen, he has reached the bridge. Stand well behind me,
so that he cannot observe you."
The horseman had approached at a trot; now he slowed down to a walking
pace, and advanced carelessly, humming a tune as if there was no such
thing as danger in the world.
With a loud "_Qui Vive?_" I sprang from my hiding-place and clutched
his horse's bridle.
"An officer of the King," he replied coolly, and the white scarf on his
arm showed up in the darkness. "I have come from the Marshal to ask
for your report. I can testify at least that you keep an excellent
watch."
The man's voice sounded familiar, but concluding we had met at the
Court, I was in all innocence about to answer when Pillot, touching me
lightly, whispered "Captain Courcy!"
In a flash I remembered, but it was too late. The captain's sharp ears
had caught the words; with a violent wrench he twisted my arm from the
bridle, and turning his horse's head dashed back at headlong speed.
"Stop him!" I yelled, "stop him!" but the rascal knocked over two of my
men like rabbits, and disappeared along the bank of the river.
"Conde is not far off," said Pillot; "he feared a trap and sent the
captain on in advance."
"Mount, and ride after them. Take a man with you, keep on their track
and pick up all the King's friends you meet. Say it is the order of
Marshal Turenne. Two of you fellows get your horses and cross to the
other side of the river. Keep your eyes open and spread the news that
Conde is hiding in the neighbourhood. There is a fortune for the man
who captures him."
The troopers mounted and galloped off; Pillot had already disappeared,
and I was left with one man to attend to my wounded troopers.
Fortunately they were not seriously hurt, though of little more use
that night. As it chanced, however, nothing further occurred, and when
Belloc sent to relieve us, I rode back feeling that I had missed a
grand opportunity. My troopers accomplished nothing, but Pillot, who
did not return for several hours, brought the certain news that Conde,
accompanied by several gentlemen, had crossed the river.
"Never mind," said M. Belloc kindly, "you did your best, and no one can
do more. Besides, even if you had caught this Captain Courcy, the
prince would have escaped," which was quite true, though the reflection
did not make my feelings any the more friendly towards the daring
captain.