THE VICOMTE DE BOIS-VALLÉE.
"Did he hear my question, or not?" asked Andrew of himself, as,
leaving the baggage and its caretakers behind under the charge of two
of the dragoons, they rode on swiftly in search of the "King's" and
"Queen's" regiments which had been ahead of them all the way from
Epernay, and which, since they had not kept in advance, must have
branched off, as Debrasques' cousin had surmised, on the road to
Kaiserslautern. "Did he hear it?"
It was impossible he should be able to answer his own question, for,
even as he had asked that other one, "And his name is--what?" the
Marquis had given his order to advance as well as another to those who
were to remain with the baggage, and it was most probable that, in the
rattle and clatter of their steeds' hoofs and their accoutrements, it
had escaped the other's ears.
And now, as they again went forward--more swiftly than they had done
as yet since quitting Paris--he knew that this was not the time for
repeating his question. Moreover, had he not solemnly promised, all
unasked though the promise had been by the Marquis, that never again
would he mention his cousin? And, man of honour as he was, he knew
that the promise bound him; that, even though his suspicions were
growing hot and furious within him, he must be as dumb as he had vowed
to be.
"Yet," he thought, "that cousin is evidently a man of mark and
position in the army; soon I shall know if what my suspicions point to
is the case. And then--well, there is time enough. At present our
surroundings demand more than that which I seek to know and to
unravel."
They did indeed! Since, as they advanced kilometre by kilometre, those
surroundings became more awful. The sky was now one vast pall of fiery
red stretching from horizon to horizon, yet spotted and blurred
beneath in twenty different directions by dense, compact masses of
flames enveloped in clouds of smoke--the flames and smoke of burning
villages, homesteads, and châteaux. Also, the air rang with the sound
of musket discharges, while shrieks were now and again borne to their
ears by the soft wind that blew in their faces; rang with shouts and
cries in French and German, and sometimes in English, and with the
horribly piteous yells of horses shut in burning stables and
forgotten.
Ere they had ridden a quarter of a league from where the officer who
was Debrasques' cousin had passed them, they came across the body of
the man he had spoken of, hanging, as he had described, head downwards
from the branch of a tree, his body perforated by bullets that had
evidently been fired into him after he had been strung up. That was
undoubted, for beneath his head, which almost touched the ground, was
a pool of blood that must have dripped from his wounds as he swung
there, and which would not have been beneath him had he been shot ere
hung; nor, it was certain, would he have been hung at all if already
dead and no use as a living target.
"Your countryman," said Andrew to the Marquis, as they paused a moment
to regard this awful spectacle. "See to his uniform--what it is I know
not, except that it is not that which we wore in the old days, and I
doubt if Jack Churchill has changed it."
"I know it," said Debrasques--who had recovered somewhat his calm, as
well as his colour, since he was no longer in the vicinity of his
cousin--peering down from his horse at the unfortunate body on which
the rays of the rising moon now shone clear. "He is of Du Plessis'
corps. Observe the boar stamped on his shoulder-piece. 'Tis Du
Plessis' own cognizance."
As he spoke there rose upon their ears more shouting and roaring of
voices than they had observed for some time--harsh voices close by
bawling in German, then shouts of approval--once they heard a raucous,
guttural laugh as from some deep, full throat--next an exclamation of
rage in English, and a loud call in the same tongue. "Help, help!"
they heard that voice cry--though Andrew alone understood it. "Help
me, save me from these bloodthirsty dogs!" After which the cries were
smothered with the German roars once more, and again that savage laugh
rolled forth.
"A countryman!" exclaimed Andrew, "and in dire peril. And the voices
are close by. Debrasques, as I helped you, help me, help him, now,"
and he gave the reins to his horse and clutched his sword firmly,
while he headed for where the noise and that piteous call had come
from. And, guided by him, Debrasques and the four remaining dragoons
rode for the spot, being assisted to find it by a bright light that
burned amongst a copse of young oaks.
Soon they reached it, crushing through saplings and great ferns and
brushwood to do so, guided always by the roars of German throats, the
shrieks of the Englishman, above all, by that wild, savage laugh.
Reached an open spot, a grassy glade, some sixty feet square, in the
middle of which stood a sturdy oak that had obtained perhaps one-half
of what its full growth would be in days to come--and with, beneath
its branches and piled against its trunk, a freshly-lighted fire
already burning brightly; a fire composed of dry brushwood and two or
three young trees hastily chopped into fagots and billets.
But it was above that fire that the real horror was, for there,
swinging from the lowest branch of the young oak by a cord, head
downwards, and perilously near the flames as they leaped up, was the
body of the Englishman whose cries they had heard--that body being
swung backwards and forwards by his struggles and convulsions, the
arms thrown wildly about, and the hands clutching at space.
With a shout, Andrew, who led the way, was amongst some twenty wild
Rhenish Bavarian peasants, the bright sword flashing now like a streak
of phosphorus in the moonlight as it darted here and there--through
one man's throat and another's breast--while the horse he bestrode
flung the boors asunder as a ship's forefoot throws off the waves, and
while behind him came Debrasques and the dragoons, themselves dealing
blows right and left, and their steeds trampling down those who had
fallen. Then, dropping the reins upon his horse's neck, Andrew's great
left hand seized the swinging man by the belt and dragged him to one
side of the flames, one touch of the rapier sundered the rope, and, a
moment later, the Bavarians' would-be victim was lifted up in front of
him and thrown across the animal's shoulder--he was saved.
Meanwhile, those of the avengers--for such, indeed they were--men
driven to madness by the destruction of their homes and crops--who
were not already on the ground and dead, or senseless from their
wounds, had fled into the darkness of the surrounding woods, and
Andrew and his party were left in possession of the glade.
"Speak, man," said he to the Englishman he had saved, while he cut
away from his feet the end of the rope that bound them together, and
Debrasques held to his lips a dram from a flask, carried by one of his
followers, "speak! How came you to this pass; how fell into the hands
of these crazed fiends?"
"I--I"--the soldier murmured, looking round wildly, and gazing up
fearfully at the great cavalier--who now towered above him since he
had been laid on the grass--as though he did not recognize him as his
saviour, "I--I--Oh! save me, save me!"
"You are safe, my man. Yet speak, let us know what else is doing. Are
there more being served as they nearly served you?"
"Worse," the man muttered, "if worse can be. There were two of us
caught by them, we were sent out to seek for the incoming cavalry--oh!
the other. The other! My comrade, Roger Bates!" And he raised his
hands to his eyes, all smarting and burning with the smoke that had
got into them, and rubbed the lids from which the flames of the fire
had singed the lashes, as it had his eyebrows and hair. "My comrade!"
"What of him?" asked Andrew solemnly, knowing that some more fearful
atrocity was to meet their ears, more fearful even than this their
eyes had seen. "What of him?"
"They took us together, and he--he," turning his glance to the body of
an enormous peasant lying close by, with his glassy eyes turned up to
the sky, while in his throat was the great stab Andrew's rapier had
made, "he who laughed so at our shrieks--directed our tortures.
Listen. They dug his eyes out with their knives--they are lying
somewhere about--then, blinded, they turned him into that wood to find
his way back to the army as best he might, or stumble in the river, or
fall down and die."
Swiftly Andrew translated to Debrasques this last horror--shuddering
as he did so, and causing his hearers to shudder too, all soldiers as
they were!--and soon the wood re-echoed with the cries of two of the
troopers as they went forth to seek the mutilated man, and, haply, to
find him if still alive.
But as they so went forth they heard from afar off more shouts and
cries mingling with the humane calls of the dragoons--loud yells of
triumph from some large body of men coming their way--and, not knowing
what this might mean--perhaps more maddened inhabitants of the
Palatinate with fresh victims!--they stood ready to either attack them
or defend themselves. Yet, in an instant, Andrew Vause exclaimed,
"More of my countrymen--some of Churchill's, or the Duke of
Monmouth's, men--what brings them here?"
"Our countrymen are gone mad," the rescued soldier said, "mad! These
Germans have illtreated us the worst of any when caught, they are all
mad. Oh! if they can but catch those who blinded Roger! If they can."
As he spoke there burst into the grassy glade, directed thereto
doubtless by the glimmering of the still burning fire, a score of
English soldiers all in the trappings of "The English Regiment," some
with their jackets torn, some with their heads bandaged up, each
armed, and with their weapons bare, and some with torches in their
hands. Then, seeing the group before them they rushed forward, though,
on observing their comrade, they paused, astonished.
"Who are these?" one of the soldiers shouted, rolling his eyes over
Andrew and Debrasques and the dragoons. "These are no Germans!"
"Nay," said Andrew, "no Germans. These are a French officer and some
of his men, and I am about to join you under Colonel Churchill. What
seek you?" Intuitively they all saluted him and the Marquis, then the
foremost man said, "the lives of all those devils we can find, sir.
They are killing, mutilating, burning all they can come across
alone--they cut the throats of the wounded after Sintzheim as they lay
on the ground. We seek revenge. God!" He exclaimed, starting back as
he saw the bodies of the three Germans on the ground, "What is this?"
Briefly their comrade told them all that had happened to him and Roger
Bates, and how, even now, two of the French dragoons were searching
for the unhappy man, and as he did so their fury became terrible. They
cursed aloud the Palatinate and its inhabitants, the Imperialists and
the war itself; and then, suddenly from their midst, there were thrust
forth into the open two peasants, whom they had captured and dragged
along with them.
"An eye for an eye," roared the leader, "life for life. We will have
vengeance--none shall stay us. Roger Bates has had his eyes dug out,
therefore so shall this man have his," and he pointed to one of the
shivering prisoners. "You were burnt head downwards, therefore so
shall this man be," and he indicated the other. "My lads, to work. Out
with the eyes, some of you, some blow up the fire."
"Stop," said Andrew, "not that. There shall be no more horrors of this
sort. Take all men prisoners whom you find and bring them before
Marshal Turenne, but not such revenge as this."
"Who shall prevent it?" the leader asked, forgetting all respect in
his fury.
"We shall," Andrew said, nodding his head to those with him, "we
shall," and at the same time he whispered to Debrasques to cause his
dragoons who were searching for Bates to be recalled.
But at that moment the two troopers came back unsummoned, and between
them they bore the dead body of Bates. They had found him in a brook
in the wood, into which he had evidently stumbled, and from which, in
his blindness, and being possibly weakened by other wounds, he had
been unable to extricate himself.
Then his furious comrades, seeing the body, lost their last glimmer of
reason--they were, in truth, maniacs now in their thirst for
vengeance. And Andrew knew it. He whispered therefore a few hasty
words to Debrasques, who divined, without knowing one word of their
language, all that was occurring. After which he addressed the
foremost soldier, saying:
"As I have told you, this shall not happen," and he leaped on to his
horse's back as he spoke. "If you want vengeance seek it in a fitting
manner from Turenne. Here it shall not be gratified. Attempt to
mutilate that man or burn this one, and by the Heaven above us we will
ride at and cut you down although most of us are fellow-countrymen.
Now reflect." And looking at him in the moon's rays, the soldiers saw
that this was one against whom they could not stand.
But at that moment there came an interruption which caused them to
pause, even more than did the appearance of the fierce cavalier before
them and the dragoons by his side.
Above the sound of swift-coming horses' feet there was heard a
somewhat shrill, though musical, English voice, saying:
"At all hazards it must cease. Heavens! Turenne will string them up in
dozens when he hears of it, as it is." And a moment later two English
officers had ridden into the glade, though not before the soldiers had
had time to cast dubious glances at each other, even while their fury
still burnt within them, and to mutter, "the Colonel."
"Some of my men, fore gad!" the speaker said, as now the two officers
were amongst the others; and he rode forward into the moonlight, his
slight, active young form standing out plainly in its rays, and his
handsome, youthful features being quite visible. Then, in the
shrill-pitched, refined tones that had just before broken on their
ears, he said:
"So you are marauding again, are you?" and, turning to his companion,
he bade him take all their names. After which he ran his eyes over
Vause and the Marquis, and, seeing that they were gentlemen, raised
his laced hat most courteously while, bowing low over his horse's
neck, he asked them in French if they were attached to the Army, and,
if so, to whom he had the honour of speaking?
"I am," said Valentin with equal courtesy, "the Marquis Debrasques, on
my way to join Listenai's dragoons, and have journeyed from Paris to
do so. May I beg the honour of knowing to whom I am accounting for
myself?"
Again the laced hat was doffed, while the speaker said:
"I am Lieutenant-Colonel John Churchill of King Charles's forces, and
Colonel of 'The English Regiment,' under King Louis, forming part of
the auxiliary forces sent from England. And you, sir?" turning to
Andrew. "May I, too, beg your name by right of the position I hold in
this campaign?"
"My name, sir, is Vause; Captain Vause, once of the regiment which you
now command. I am on my way to present myself to you with a view of
serving once more with my comrades, and am the bearer of a letter to
you from King Charles himself."
"Sir, you shall be very welcome," Churchill said, "as all soldiers are
here." And, after the exchange of a few more courtesies, he asked for
some explanation of all that had taken place in the glade--the
conversation on account of the Marquis being carried on in French. A
few rapid sentences from both Debrasques and Andrew served, however,
to explain what had happened since they arrived on the spot, while
ever, as he heard of how the batch of English soldiers had forced
their way to it with their two prisoners, Churchill's eyes turned to
them.
Then he addressed his men, and, speaking in so quiet a tone that none
could know what he was meditating, he bade them fall in and march back
to their quarters, taking the Bavarians with them, but without doing
them any injury.
"And you," he said, addressing the man who had been saved from
burning, "can you march, too?"
"I think so, sir. Thank God I am little hurt."
"So be it. March all." Then, while he was informing Debrasques that
the "King's" and "Queen's" Dragoons had found their proper route and
that he would conduct him to where his own regiment lay, a thought
seemed to strike him, and, turning to the rescued soldier, he said,
"how came you here? Alone with Bates or in a party?"
"In a party, sir, before the French officer; but we missed them, and
so those Germans caught us."
"What French officer?"
"I know not his name, sir." Then the man paused and hesitated, while
Churchill looked calmly down at him; but after a moment he stammered,
"the officer with the red hair, sir."
"Humph!" said the colonel, while in the now bright moonlight the
others could see a gentle smile appear on his handsome face. "The
French officer with red hair. True, he is scouting to-night." And,
turning to the other who accompanied him, he said, "Without doubt, the
Vicomte de Bois-Vallée."