THE FORD BY LARNE
The moral effect of swift and determined action has won many a victory
against strong and apparently overwhelming opposition. The sudden
charge of a handful of desperate men has often demoralized a whole
army, the reckless courage of even a single individual has constantly
plucked success out of failure.
To possess the fertile lands of Montvilliers was a hereditary desire
amongst the surrounding states. History recounted many a determined
struggle in the past which had this end in view, but sometimes by
diplomacy, sometimes by splendid and self-sacrificing courage, the
attempt had always been frustrated. In later times mere force of arms
was not sufficient to ensure success, the rivalry of the nations had
to be taken into consideration; and so long as a strong man ruled in
Montvilliers the conquest, or the partition, of the state was a
difficult matter. This fact was so well understood that during the
late Duke's lifetime there had been peace. If for a time his doubtful
right to the throne had raised hopes that internal dissension would
mean an appeal to the foreigner for help from one party or the other,
the Duke had swiftly proved himself a man able to win the confidence
of his people and to keep the throne which he had taken. The utter
hopelessness of a successful invasion while such a man held the reins
of government was apparent to all statesmen. Even such men as Father
Bertrand, whose work was done in secret, could do no more than make
preparation for the future, and foster that feeling of dissension
which was certain to break out at the Duke's death. Pursuing the game
which had been mapped out for him, Father Bertrand had played his
cards cunningly. He had ingratiated himself with the old Duke, had
openly espoused Felix's cause while in secret he had urged the right
of Maurice, and had, at the same time, lent countenance to those who
would make Christine de Liancourt Duchess. With the Duke's death, and
with all these different interests dividing the state, the time to
strike had surely come. Secretly the enemy was gradually gathered on
the frontier, and their leaders were in constant communication with
the Rue St. Romain. Many of these differences, however, seemed likely
to adjust themselves at the critical moment, and then, to strengthen
his hands, the priest had suddenly given his support to Roger Herrick,
a stranger and a foreigner. Almost as soon as he had played this final
card he recognized that he had made a mistake. True, there was plenty
of opposition to the new Duke, but he was a strong man, equal to
grappling with the difficulty, and moreover one who could keep his own
counsel.
Rumor had it that some of the nobles who had refused to recognize him
and had withdrawn from Vayenne had, nevertheless, joined the Duke's
standard on the way to the frontier; but it was only rumor, and Father
Bertrand laughed at it. The papers which Mercier had brought came as
an unexpected blow. They confirmed the rumor, and told him much more
besides. All the plans and schemes so carefully prepared during the
last few years were in danger of ruin at the eleventh hour.
The enemy on the frontier, awaiting the final word from the Rue St.
Romain, had come to consider the task before them an easy one. A few
desperate men might dispute the invasion, but the support of the
country would not be behind them. They would be a mere handful,
seduced by the glamor of the adventurer who led them, while the great
mass of the people was only too anxious for foreign intervention. Such
was the story told by Father Bertrand, and fully believed; and a small
body of the invaders had already crossed the frontier when the Duke
and his army arrived. Compared with the resources of the enemy,
Herrick's followers might be considered a handful of men, but the
force was far larger than had been anticipated, and the skirmish which
quickly occurred proved that this adventurer was a leader of no mean
skill. The enemy was repulsed with serious loss, and the first shouts
of victory rang from the ranks of the men of Montvilliers.
A narrow stream, swift and deep, formed the frontier line here, and
for a few days Herrick maintained his position, and prepared to attack
in force. This aggressive policy was totally unexpected, and the
enemy, who were weak at this particular spot, sent hastily for
reinforcements. Certain of the nobles urged an engagement before these
reinforcements could arrive, but Herrick did not move, and although
his reasons for delay were not understood, there was no murmuring, for
he had already succeeded in inspiring confidence.
One evening, just as darkness fell, the leaders were summoned to his
tent, and Herrick explained his plans.
"Comrades, the odds are against us," he said. "With dissension in the
country behind us we cannot hope to sustain a long campaign. A sudden
and quick issue will serve us better. We have succeeded by the
exhibition of great activity in drawing the enemy into force before
us, but we do not fight here. There is another battle-ground awaiting
us. You know the castle by Larne; to-night we march thither, and the
wood behind us will screen our departure. We ought to be well upon our
way before the enemy discover that we have gone. Now I want a few
brave hearts to remain behind to keep the watchfires burning and to
multiply themselves in the shadows so that our secret may be kept
until morning. Those who remain must expect a hard reckoning with the
daylight."
The certainty of the swift vengeance sure to follow gave fear to none.
Every man present was ready to stay, indeed pleaded for the honor.
"I expected no less from such gallant friends," said Herrick, "but at
Larne there will be desperate fighting too. Our real effort must be
made there."
"Sir, I claim the right to stay," said the old noble who had been so
swift to answer Herrick's message bidding all patriots to the
meeting-place. "My age, if not my birth, gives me precedence of all
here, and my age also tells me that in the midst of a fierce fight my
blows may not be so effective as those of younger men. I pray
therefore that you will grant me this place of trust. Give me a few
stout fellows, and I warrant we will make fires enough, and shadows
enough, for a whole army."
"The trust is yours, and I thank you," Herrick answered. "At dawn, as
soon as the enemy understand the strategem, to horse at once, and
follow us. You shall see our flag floating over Larne, or you shall be
in time to help us place it there."
Within an hour men were withdrawing silently through the wood and
hurrying toward Larne. There was no moon to betray them, and one of
the charcoal-burners, who had joined the army, knew how to avoid the
windings of the stream and shorten the journey. But the camp fires
blazed all night, and the men who tended them moved rapidly from place
to place so that no watchful sentry might have any suspicion of what
had happened.
Herrick had hoped to find the garrison at Larne unprepared, but as
they approached the castle soon after daylight he found that in this
respect he had been too sanguine. The castle stood upon the other side
of the stream, and consisted of a great donjon tower and one massive
wing in good preservation; the remainder was falling into ruins, or
lay in heaps of debris. For a mile or more to left and right the river
broadened out, but close by the tower there was a ford, impassable in
the winter-time, but comparatively easy to cross at this season of the
year. This ford was well defended. Across it the enemy had intended to
enter Montvilliers presently, and until the call for reinforcements
had come, it was fully expected that whatever opposition was made
would be made here. Although Herrick's strategem had had the effect of
weakening the defence, it was soon evident that if victory were to
come it would have to be dearly bought.
"The castle must be ours," said Herrick as he gave his commands; "the
salvation of Montvilliers depends upon it."
"It shall be!" was the shout as Gaspard Lemasle led his men to the
attack.
That fight for the ford by Larne will live long in history. With the
first dash into the swiftly running stream the tower belched forth
fire, and the clear waters were quickly stained with blood. Corpses
were swirled away savagely as though the waters themselves took part
in the struggle, or slithered along by the banks with the other
rubbish which the stream brought down. Some there were who, sorely
wounded, managed to reach the bank, and others with a cry slowly sank,
and were drowned. Lemasle and his men were presently sent reeling
back, and the enemy attacking fiercely were driven back in their turn.
Rush after rush was made, now from one side, now from the other, and
each time a deadly struggle ensued for a few minutes in the midst of
the waters, friend and foe so intermingled that the fire from the
tower was forced to cease, and the struggle became a hand-to-hand one.
Blades flashed above the seething mass as though lightning played
there, and the air was full of panting endeavor, of rough, loud oaths,
and shrieks and groans of pain. Ever the stream ran more deeply red
and carried down its human rubbish. For two hours or more the equal
fight went on, and to neither side was there any advantage. Herrick
had ridden this way and that to find another crossing out of the range
of the fire from the tower, but in vain; the stream was too deep and
wide to cross except at the ford. Time became of increasing value.
Long before this the enemy farther up the stream must have discovered
the deception which had been practised upon them; in a little while
they would be hastening back, and then all hope of success must
vanish. The ford must be won, and that quickly.
"Charge once more, Lemasle, hold them for a few moments, and when I
shout break to either side, and let us through. We must win now, or we
shall be too late."
Again the waters were churned and blood-stained by a fiercely fighting
crowd, and then, at a shout, the attacking party broke suddenly, many
of the men plunging into the deep waters on either side and swimming
back to the bank. At the head of a strong and chosen band Herrick
dashed into the gap. The sudden and unexpected relaxation of the
pressure had thrown the enemy forward in some confusion, and they were
unprepared to stand against the swift and compact mass hurled against
them. With irresistible force they were swept back across the ford,
and Herrick and his followers stormed the opposite bank.
"It is now or never!" he cried, and the foremost ranks were carried
forward by those who rushed across the stream behind them. Nothing was
able to stop this supreme effort, and the stormers swept up the bank
as a great wave rushes up a low beach of shingle.
Whether they lacked leaders, or whether the heart was out of them, the
enemy quickly became a struggling crowd rather than a compact fighting
force, and Herrick was prompt to seize the advantage gained. With
sharp commands, rapidly repeated on all sides, he kept his men
together, and almost before the enemy were fully conscious that they
had lost the ford, they were being attacked and driven from the gates
which gave entrance to the tower. It was soon evident that every
available man had been used for the stream's defence, and, the ford
lost, the winning of the castle was an easy matter. No determined
voice or action arrested the sudden panic. Men threw down their arms,
the guns were silent, and in a very little while Herrick was issuing
quick commands for the castle's occupation.
"Turn the guns to face the enemy, who must soon be upon us," he said.
"See to it, Briant. Post sentries, and then rest, comrades, while you
may. Before nightfall we shall be in the thick of it again."
For Herrick there was no rest yet. He was busy looking to every point
of defence and giving brief words of praise to every man. The victory
was even more complete than he had hoped for, because the castle had
been used as a base of operations, and a large quantity of stores had
consequently fallen into his hand.
The cheers which greeted him as he passed from point to point were
pleasant to his ears, as they always must be to the man who has set
heavy odds at naught and triumphed. Only a little while since many of
those who now shouted the loudest had left the great hall at Vayenne
in silence--his enemies. It would have been strange, beyond all human
nature, if for a time some sense of self-satisfaction had not
dominated his thoughts. For a little he enjoyed the shouting, and then
turned to Lemasle.
"That is a good sound, but the struggle is not yet over."
"Perhaps not, but we have the tower, sir." And the captain's face,
grimy and blood-stained, broke into a wide smile of complacency.
"True, and that counts for much," Herrick answered, and as he hurried
away all thought of self was forgotten. He went to one of the
guard-rooms, where some of the prisoners had been gathered, and after
looking at them he selected one man, and commanded him to follow him.
Once in the passage outside he put his hand firmly on the man's
shoulder.
"In which part of the castle is the prisoner confined?" he asked.
"The prisoner! What prisoner?" said the man, turning toward him to
find himself looking into the barrel of a revolver.
"I could find him, but I have no time to waste in searching," Herrick
returned, "therefore, my friend, choose quickly. If you prefer death,
one of your companions yonder is likely to prefer life under the same
persuasion."
The man hesitated for a moment, and then went forward, turning
presently to mount a spiral stone stairway set in the tower. Before a
small door on an upper landing he stopped.
"He is in there."
"Good. Now you shall show me where I can find the key of this prison."
"Indeed, sir, I was not his jailer."
"Still you may find the key. There is little secrecy about the
jailer's office. You must go quickly, for this is not the sort of day
on which a man has much patience to spare."
The key was found in the jailer's empty room, and when Herrick had
taken the man back to the guard-room he mounted the spiral staircase
alone. He paused for an instant before putting the key into the lock,
and it was evident that his thoughts had suddenly wandered.
"At least one task I have set myself is accomplished," he murmured as
he opened the heavy door.
There presently galloped across the ford the old noble and those who
had remained to cover the secret night march of the army. They had not
escaped unscathed, for in the early morning they had been fired at,
and half a dozen men had fallen by the watchfires they had tended. No
opposition met the little band at the water's edge, for the flag was
already flying from the tower at Larne. Their coming, however,
heralded the speedy return of the main body of the enemy, and before
nightfall the guns were speaking again.
The struggle was not at an end. With the greater part of their stores
lost, the foe were in a precarious position, and desperate attempts
were made to recapture the castle. Time had become of consequence to
them. Herrick recognized that the castle was not strong enough to
stand a siege, and his first care was to prevent the besiegers taking
up any strong position. Sorties were constantly made, and there were
skirmishes which were almost of sufficient importance to be called
battles. In these, ever fighting by his side, was the prisoner Herrick
had released from the tower. When he was not fighting he kept himself
in the background, and few knew, or cared, who he was. Each man's time
was too fully occupied to indulge in idle speculation.
In these skirmishes Fortune's favors were distributed fairly equally.
Often, Herrick did not accomplish all he meant to do, but he had one
real advantage: the chief success of the struggle was his, and his
enemies were disheartened. Dissensions, too, had grown up in their
ranks, and many declared that they had been deceived by the
information sent them from Vayenne. Instead of the easy task they had
been led to expect, they had been vigorously attacked, and all the
fighting had taken place on their side of the frontier. They began to
talk of peace, and the first flag of truce had been raised before
Mercier had left for Vayenne. The papers he brought to Father Bertrand
declared that peace was imminent, and indeed terms had been agreed
upon by the time the papers came into the priest's hands, and Herrick
was leading the larger portion of his victorious army back to Vayenne.
The camp had been pitched for the night at the juncture of the Passey
road with the high road from Lame. No messengers had been sent forward
to the city. Herrick intended to return without warning, and if
treachery were within the gates he could easily crush it now. Some of
the nobles had left him, returning to their own estates, but it was
with a promise to come to Vayenne within a week. They understood the
Duke much better than they had done, and Herrick's popularity was
established beyond all question.
With early morning came another parting. A small body of men separated
from the rest and went slowly along the Passey road. The man who had
been released from the tower at Larne lingered beside Herrick for a
few moments, talking earnestly, then he saluted, and rode after his
companions.
"Forward, comrades!" Herrick said when he had gone. "They must be
eagerly awaiting our news in Vayenne."
Some hours later a solitary and queer-looking horseman met them. The
animal had been ridden hard, the man was bare-headed and unkempt, and
green and scarlet showed from under his disordered and dusty cloak.
There was a strange, low jingling of bells as he came.
"Where is the Duke?" he cried as he met the foremost ranks.
"Jean! What is it? What is the news?"
"Ay, Jean it is. Where is the Duke?"
"Yonder. What has happened?"
But the dwarf stayed to answer no questions. He pressed forward to
Herrick.
"Jean! What is it?"
"Treachery and rebellion in the city. The gates are closed against
you, and Mademoiselle is to be Duchess, and marries Count Felix."
"When?"
The sharp question had a note of agony in it.
"At once; but we may yet be in time. No one knows of the landing-place
you and I used that night. I can tell you everything as we go."
"Lemasle! Lemasle!" cried Herrick, and he hastened to meet the captain
as he came hurriedly at the call. For a few moments he poured a
torrent of eager orders into his ears. "I will ride forward with a
score of men, Lemasle. I know a way into the city that they do not
dream of. You shall find the gates open to-morrow, or there will be
need for another Duke of Montvilliers. Give Jean another horse. That
poor brute is done, and will never do the journey in time. A score of
men, Lemasle! Quickly! There are vipers in Vayenne, comrades, that
must be crushed. We go to crush them. Come, Jean! Forward! Gallop! The
next few hours hold more than life for me."
"Long live the Duke!" they cried as they galloped forward, and the
same shout rang out lustily from the ranks of those they left behind
them.
That night Jean's boat crossed the river several times, and Herrick
and his men scaled the wall by the haunted house, and entered
Vayenne.