It had nearly ceased raining, but the night, as we have said, was cold
and chilly, the sky was still covered with thick clouds, and the air was
full of thick darkness; to use the expressive words of Scripture, a
darkness that could be felt. Bernard de Rohan and his companions paused
for a moment before the door of the little inn, listening to catch any
sounds of the conflict from which the servant seemed so freshly to have
come.
All was silent, however. The rushing sound of the mountain torrents,
swelled by the late rains; the sighing of the night winds among the
gorges of the mountains and through the deep pine forests; the distant
cry of a wolf, and the whirring scream of the night-hawk, as it flitted
by, were all heard distinctly; but no human voice mingled with the other
sounds.
This silence, however, gave no assurance to the heart of Bernard de
Rohan that the persons for whom the servant had appealed to his chivalry
had escaped from their assailants. It was well known at that time that
every part of Savoy was infested with bands of brigands, which had
rather increased than diminished in number since France had taken
possession of the country; so that, unable to put them down, the famous
Marechal de Brissac, in order to restrain their indiscriminate ravages
in some degree, had been obliged to give them occasional employment with
his own forces. When not thus employed, however, they were known to lay
wait in all the principal passes, both of Piedmont and Savoy, and take
toll of all travellers with a strong hand. Enormous barbarities were
from time to time charged against them; and, if one might judge from
general rumour, no scheme was too wild, no act too violent and desperate
for them to devise and execute. The only conclusion, therefore, which
Bernard de Rohan drew from the absence of all sounds of conflict was,
that the banditti had prevailed, and either murdered their victims or
carried them off.
"Quick! quick!" he cried, after that momentary pause. "Lead on, lead on,
good fellow! Where are your lord and lady? Which is the way?"
"This way, noble sir, this way," cried the man, advancing at once along
the road which led more immediately into the mountains. "They cannot
have gone far: I could hear the voices of the brigands from the inn
door."
Thus saying, he led the way onward with great speed; but, as Bernard de
Rohan followed with the same quick pace, the clear, deep voice of the
man whom the host had called Master Leon sounded in his ear, saying,
"There is some mistake here, and I think some villany; but fear not."
"Fear!" replied Bernard de Rohan, turning his head towards him. "Do you
suppose I fear?"
"No, I suppose not," replied the man; "but yet there was no common
interest in your eye, good youth, when this knave talked of his young
mistress, and one may fear for others, though not for themselves. But
hark! I hear a noise on before. Voices speaking. Some one complaining, I
think. Quick, quick! Run, Sir Varlet, run!"
At the rapid pace at which they now proceeded they soon heard the sounds
more distinctly before them. There was a noise of horses, and a jingling
as of the bells of mules. The murmuring of a number of voices, too, came
borne upon the air down the pass, and some four or five hundred yards
farther up the servant, who was now running on as fast as possible,
stumbled over a wounded man, who uttered a cry of pain. But the young
man and his companions slackened not their pace, for by this time they
could plainly hear some sharp and angry voices pouring forth oaths and
imprecations, and urging what seemed to be a band of prisoners to hurry
forward more rapidly. At the same time the light of a torch, or more
than one, was seen gleaming upon the gray rocks and green foliage, and
on one occasion it threw upon the flat face of a crag on the other side
of the ravine the shadow of a large body of men with horses and other
beasts of burden.
"Now out with your swords," cried the personage named Leon, in a tone of
authority, "for we are gaining on them quick, and I doubt not shall have
stout resistance."
Bernard de Rohan's sword was already in his hand before the other spoke,
and, hurrying on, the next moment he reached an angle of the rock, from
which he could plainly discern the whole party that he was pursuing. He
paused for an instant as he saw them, and well might that sight make him
do so, for the torchlight displayed to his eyes a body of at least
fifteen or sixteen armed men, some of them mounted, some of them on
foot, driving on in the midst of them two or three loaded horses, and
seven or eight men and women, several of them apparently having their
hands tied. The party was about two hundred yards in advance; and,
though the torchlight was sufficient to show him the particulars which
we have mentioned, yet it did no more than display the gleaming of the
arms and the fluttering of the women's garments, without at all giving
any indication of the rank or station to which the prisoners belonged.
The young cavalier, it must be remembered, was accompanied by only five
persons, and the greater part of those five were, like himself, but
lightly armed. His momentary pause, however, was only to reconnoitre the
enemy, without the slightest hesitation as to what his own conduct was
to be. He knew the effect of a sudden and unexpected attack, and
calculated upon some assistance also from the prisoners themselves; but,
had he had nothing but his own courage in his favour, his conduct would
have been the same. He was again hurrying on, when the powerful grasp of
the man named Leon was laid upon his arm, and stayed him.
"Hush!" he said: "do not be too quick! Do you not see that these men are
no brigands, as you thought?"
"How should I see that?" demanded Bernard de Rohan, turning sharply upon
him. "Who but brigands would commit an act like this?"
"Think you that brigands would have torches with them?" said his
companion, calmly. "Pause a moment, pause a moment: let them get round
yon point of the rock; for, if they hear us coming, and see how few we
are, we shall be obliged to do things that we had better not. Beyond the
rock they will be cooped up in a little basin of the hills, where they
can be attacked with advantage."
"You seem to know the country well," said Bernard de Rohan, gazing upon
him with some suspicion, as the light of the torches, faintly reflected
from the other side of the valley, served partially to display his dark
but fine countenance.
"Ay! I do know it well!" replied the other: "so well, that from the foot
of that rock which they are now turning, I will guide you up by a path
over the shoulder of the hill till we meet them in front, at the same
time that some of your people attack them in the rear."
Bernard de Rohan did now hesitate, but it was only for a moment. His
mind was not naturally a suspicious one; and, of course, had the
proposal been made by any one whom he knew, the advantages of such a
plan would have instantly struck him, and he would have followed it at
once. But the man who suggested it was unknown to him: nay, more, there
was something in his tone, his manner, in his whole appearance, which,
to say the best, was strange and unusual. His garb, as far as it had
been seen, was unlike that of the peasantry of Savoy; and, in short,
there was that about him which naturally tended to create a doubt as to
his ordinary pursuits and occupations.
Bernard de Rohan hesitated then, but it was with the hesitation of only
one moment. He had been accustomed to deal with and to command fierce
and reckless men; and, though his years were not sufficient to have
given what may be called the _insight of experience_, he had by nature
that clear discernment of the human character which is the meed of some
few, and may be called the _insight of instinct_.
During his momentary pause, then, he saw that the dark eye of his
companion was fixed upon him as if reading what was passing in his mind.
The jovial priest also seemed to penetrate his thoughts, and said, in a
low voice, "You may trust him! You may trust him! He never betrayed any
one."
"I do trust him," cried Bernard de Rohan, turning round and grasping the
stranger's hand; "I trust him entirely. You and I," he continued, "will
go over the hill alone. If I judge right, we have both been in many a
hot day's strife, and can keep that narrow road without much assistance.
It is better that there should be a show of more people behind."
As he spoke, the faint flash of the receding torches showed him a smile
upon his companion's countenance. "Come on slowly," said Corse de Leon,
"and keep near the rock; we shall soon get up with them, for they are
encumbered, and we are free."
Thus saying, he led the way, remaining, as far as possible, under the
shadow of the crags till the last of the party before them had turned
the angle beyond, and the whole valley was again in darkness. The
cavalier and those who were with him then hurried their pace till they
reached a spot where a point of rock jutted out into the valley. There
the stranger paused, bidding the attendants of the young nobleman pursue
their way along the road till they came up with the rear of the other
party, and then attack them as suddenly and vehemently as possible.
"Make all speed," he said, "for we shall be there before you, cutting
off the corner of the hill. Here, priest!" he continued, "here's a
pistol and a dagger for you. You'll need something to work with. Now
quick on your way, for the moon will be out in a few minutes, if one may
judge by the paleness of that cloud's edge, and her light would betray
our scanty numbers. Follow me, baron! Here! Upon this rock! Catch by
that bough! Another step, and you are in the path!"
As he spoke, he himself sprang up, seeming well acquainted with every
stock and every stone in the way; Bernard de Rohan followed with less
knowledge of the path, but all the agility of youth and strength, and
they had soon nearly reached the brow of the hill.
"Out upon the pale moon!" cried Bernard de Rohan's companion, pausing
and gazing up towards the sky. "She shines at the very moment she should
not. See how she is casting away those clouds, as if she were opening
the hangings of her tent! We may go slow, for we shall be far before
them."
He now led the way onward with a slower pace; and, after ascending for
somewhat more than a quarter of a mile, the path began to descend again
as if to rejoin the road. Every step was now clear, for the moon was
shining brightly; and though no one, probably, could see Bernard de
Rohan and his companion as they took their way among the rhododendrons
and junipers which were thickly mingled with the fragments of rock
around, yet they themselves, from time to time, caught a distinct view
of the valley. An occasional flash of light upon their left hand, too,
but a good deal in the rear, soon showed Bernard de Rohan that his guide
had told him the truth in regard to the shortness of the path he had
taken, though he could not absolutely see the road, or those who were
travelling along it. At length, however, they reached a spot where the
path which they were following wound along within ten yards of the chief
road itself, and, choosing a small break nearly surrounded with tall
shrubs and broken masses of crag, Corse de Leon stopped, saying, "It
will be well to stay for their coming here. They will take full ten
minutes to reach this place. You wait for them here; I will climb a
little farther up, to watch them as they come, and will be back again in
time."
If Bernard de Rohan entertained any suspicion in regard to his guide's
purposes, he knew that it would be vain to show it, and therefore he
made no opposition to the plan that his companion proposed, but let him
depart without a word; and then, choosing a spot among the trees where
he could see without being seen, he gazed down into the little basin
formed by the surrounding hills. The clear light of the moon was now
streaming bright and full into the valley, only interrupted from time to
time for a single moment by fragments of the clouds driven across by the
wind; but at first Bernard de Rohan could see nothing of the party which
he was pursuing; for the road, as usual, wound in and out along the
irregular sides of the mountain, being raised upon a sort of terrace
some two hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. In a moment or
two, however, he caught sight of them again, coming slowly on, but with
their torches now extinguished, and presenting nothing but a dark mass,
brightened here and there by the reflection of the moon's light from
some steel cap or breastplate.
The time seemed long, and their advance slow, to Bernard de Rohan; for,
although he had lain in many an ambush against the foe, and had taken
part in many an encounter where the odds against him were scarcely less
than those which were now presented, yet, of course, he could not but
feel some emotion in awaiting the result--that deep and thrilling
interest, in fact, which has nothing to do with fear, and approaches
perhaps even nearer to joy--the interest which can only be felt in the
anticipation of a fierce but noble strife, where, knowing the amount of
all we risk, we stake life and all life's blessings upon the success of
some great and generous endeavour. He felt all this, and all the
emotions which such a state must bring with it; and thus, longing to
throw the die, he found the moments of expectation long.
Now seen and now lost to his sight, the party continued to advance, and
yet his strange companion did not make his appearance. The young
nobleman judged that he could not be far, indeed, for once or twice he
heard the bushes above him rustle, while a stone or two rolled down into
the bottom of the valley; and he thought he distinguished Leon's voice
murmuring also, as if talking to himself. At length there was a clear
footfall heard coming down the steepest part of the mountain, and in
another moment the stranger stood once more by Bernard de Rohan's side.
As he came near, he threw off the cloak which he had hitherto worn, and
cast it into one of the bushes, saying to it as he did so, "I shall find
you, if I want you, after this is over."
His appearance now, however, left Bernard de Rohan scarcely a doubt in
regard to the nature of his usual occupation. When his cloak was thus
thrown off, his chest and shoulders were seen covered with that peculiar
sort of corslet or brigantine, which originally gave name to the bands
called Brigands. His arms were free, and unencumbered with any defensive
armour; and over his right shoulder hung a buff baldric, suspending his
long, heavy sword. This was not all, however; another broad leather belt
and buckle went round his waist, containing, in cases made on purpose
for them, a store of other weapons if his sword blade should chance to
fail; among which were those long and formidable knives which, in the
wars of the day, were often employed by foot soldiers to kill the
chargers of their mounted adversaries. Daggers of various lengths were
there also, together with the petronel or large horse pistol, which was
so placed, however, as to give free room for his hand to reach the hilt
of his sword.
In this guise he approached Bernard de Rohan, saying, "You see, baron, I
am better prepared for this encounter than you are. You have nothing but
your sword: you had better take one of these," and he laid his finger
upon the butt of a petronel.
"My sword will not fail me," replied Bernard de Rohan, with a smile. "I
see, indeed, you were better qualified to judge whether these were
brigands or not than I was."
"They are no brigands," replied the other; "brigands know better what
they are about;" and, as he spoke, he threw away his hat, and tied up
his long black hair, which fell over his ears and shoulders, with a
piece of riband. "I cannot very well understand," he continued, in the
same low tone, "what has become of your people and the priest: I could
see nothing of them from the height, and I almost fear that these
villains, fearing pursuit, have broken down the little wooden bridge
behind them, at what we call the Pas de Suzzette, where the stream falls
into the river."
"Hark!" said Bernard de Rohan. "They are coming up;" and, grasping his
sword, he took a step forward.
"Wait," said the brigand, laying hold of his arm. "Give your people the
last minute to attack them in the rear. By Heavens, they ought to have
been here by this time."
The sound of horses' feet and human voices now became distinct from
below, and oaths and imprecations were still heard loud and vehemently,
as the captors hurried on their prisoners.
"Get you on, get you on!" exclaimed one voice: "don't you see how
quietly your lord is going."
"He is not my lord," cried another, in a faint tone. "I am wounded and
hurt, and cannot go faster."
"Get on, get on, villain!" reiterated the other voice. "You would fain
keep us till the fools behind mend the bridge and come up with us. Get
on, I say! If he do not walk faster, prick him with your dagger,
Bouchart. We will skin him alive when we get to the end of the march!
Drive it into him!"
A sharp cry succeeded: Bernard de Rohan could bear no more, but,
bursting away from the hand of the brigand, he sprang into the road.
Leon followed him at once; but, even before he was down, the young
cavalier's sword had stretched one of the advancing party on the ground,
and was crossed with that of another.
"Hold, hold!" shouted the loud voice of the brigand. "Hold, and throw
down your arms! Villains, you are surrounded on all sides!"
For a moment their opponents had drawn back; but the scanty number of
the assailants was seen before Corse de Leon uttered what seemed so
empty a boast.
"Cut him down," cried a voice from behind, "cut him down!" and one of
the horsemen spurred on towards him. Another, at the same moment, aimed
a blow at the head of Bernard de Rohan from behind, which struck him on
the shoulder and brought him on his knee, while a shot was fired at the
brigand, which struck his cuirass, but glanced off harmless.
"It is time we should have help," said Corse de Leon, in a cool tone;
and while, with his right hand, he drew a pistol from his girdle,
levelled it at the head of one of those who were contending with Bernard
de Rohan, fired, and saw the man fall over into the valley below, with
the left he applied a small instrument to his lips, producing a loud,
long, shrill whistle, which those who have heard it will never forget.
It is like the scream of a bird of prey, but infinitely louder; and the
moment it proceeded from the lips of the brigand, similar sounds echoed
round and round from twenty different points above, below, and on the
opposite side.
When Bernard de Rohan staggered up from his knee, the scene was
completely changed. Corse de Leon stood no longer alone, but with three
stout men by his side armed to the teeth. The fragments of rock and
large stones that were rolling from above showed that rapid footsteps
were coming down the side of the mountain. Up from the rocky bed of the
stream five or six other men were seen climbing with the activity of the
chamois or the izzard, and, to complete the whole, the whistle was still
heard prolonged up the valley, while, from the same side, the ear could
distinguish the galloping of horse coming down with furious speed.
The party of the adversary, however, was large. All were well armed; all
evidently accustomed to strife and danger; and had all apparently made
up their minds to struggle to the last. They accordingly made a fierce
charge along the road, in order to force their way on; and the strife
now became hand to hand, and man to man, while, above the contest, the
loud voice of the brigand leader was heard shouting, "Tie them! Tie
them! Do not kill them if you can help it!"
Nor was his assumption of certain success unjustified. Every moment
fresh numbers were added to the party of Corse de Leon. The adversaries
were driven back along the road, dragging the prisoners with them some
way, but were stopped by fresh opponents, dropping, as it were, from the
mountains, and cutting them off in their retreat. They were still
struggling, however, when at length eight or nine horsemen, the sound of
whose approach had been heard before, reached the scene of combat; and
then, seeing that farther resistance was vain, several of them uttered a
cry of "Quarter! quarter! We will throw down our arms."
"Here, take my sword, Doland," said the brigand leader to one of his
men. "Wipe it well, and go back for my hat and cloak, which I left among
the bushes by the cross of St. Maur. Well, baron," he continued, turning
to Bernard de Rohan, "I am afraid you have to regret the want of your
armour: that was a bad blow on your head."
"No, it struck my shoulder," replied Bernard de Rohan, "where my buff
coat is doubled. There is no great harm done."
"You had better keep behind," continued Corse de Leon, in a low voice.
"I wished not to have displayed my men at all had it been possible to
avoid it, but it could not be helped. However, you had better not show
yourself with us. It may make mischief."
"But the lady," said Bernard de Rohan, "the lady: let me go and speak to
her and set her free: I have no fear of being seen."
"Leave it to me, leave it to me," said the brigand. "You shall have
opportunity enough to speak with her, and she shall know who is her
deliverer. Will you not trust me after all this night's work?"
"Entirely," replied Bernard de Rohan; "but it is natural, when one aids
a lady in scenes like these, to wish to speak with her, to sooth and
tranquillize her."
"Especially when one loves her," replied the brigand, laughing. "But you
shall speak with her in a moment, only keep back for the present."
Bernard de Rohan had neither the will nor the power to resist. The
brigand, indeed, might well assume the tone of command, for at that
moment there could be no successful opposition to his will; but, besides
this consideration, there were other feelings in the bosom of the young
cavalier which inclined him to yield at once.
Everything that he had seen was calculated to surprise and perplex him.
The knowledge which his strange companion seemed to have of his history
and circumstances; the state of active preparation in which he had found
him, as if he had been aware, long before, of all that was about to
occur, and had taken measures to meet every contingency; the interest
which he had shown in an enterprise that seemed not to concern him at
all, and the active and vehement opposition he had evinced to persons
apparently engaged in the same trade of violence with himself, were all
unaccountable to Bernard de Rohan; and he paused with some anxiety to
see what would be the next act in the strange drama in which he himself
was bearing a part.
While the brief conversation which I have narrated took place between
the brigand and the young cavalier, the successful party had drawn
closer and closer round their adversaries, and were busily disarming and
tying them. This operation, being carried on with great dexterity and
rapidity, had advanced considerably, when Leon again strode forward into
the midst of them to give farther directions.
"Not so tight! not so tight, Antoine!" he said: "you'll cut his wrists
with those thongs. Take off his corslet, Pierre. You cannot get it off
when his arms are tied. If he resists, pitch him over into the stream.
That horse will break away and be lost. Some of you come and untie my
Lord of Masseran and his people. Noble signior," he continued, and
Bernard de Rohan thought that he heard a good deal of bitter mockery in
his tone, "I pray you tell me what is to be done with these insolent
villains, who have dared to lay violent hands upon you and your lady
wife's fair daughter. Shall we either put them to death on the
spot--which, perhaps, would be the wisest plan, as the dead are very
silent--or shall we send them, bound hand and foot, to your chateau,
that you may give them your own directions as to what they are to say
and do?"
These words were addressed to a tall, graceful man, somewhere between
forty and fifty years of age, who had appeared as one among the
prisoners of the party just overthrown. He seemed not particularly well
pleased with the brigand's speech, and replied in a tone somewhat
sullen, "You must do with them as you please, sir, and with us also,
though from your words I suppose that you mean us good and not evil."
"Oh, certainly, my good lord," replied the other; "I am here to free
you, and you shall be safely conducted by my people to your own abode.
Am I, by your authority, then, to treat these men as they deserve?"
The Lord of Masseran seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then replied
sharply, "By all means! By all means! They well deserve punishment."
"Oh! spare them! spare them!" cried a lady's voice. "They have done
evil, certainly; but they might have treated us worse. Do not hurt them,
sir."
"Lady," replied the brigand, "I will only punish them as they deserve,
and you yourself shall hear the sentence. Strip off every man's coat.
Take off the bridles of their horses, and therewith flog them down the
valley to Gandelot's inn. When they are there, they will know what to do
with themselves. Now, lady, this is but small measure of retribution for
bad acts. Quick, my men, quick. You must take them over the hill, for
the bridge is broken."
He then spoke a few words to one of his companions in a low tone; after
which he returned once more to Bernard de Rohan, who had remained
behind, asked particularly after the wounds he had received, and
inquired whether he were fit to escort a lady some two leagues that
night. He spoke with a smile, and there was no hesitation in the young
cavalier's reply. Before their short conversation was ended, the
brigand's orders in regard to his prisoners were in the act of
execution; and certain it is that the discipline to which they were
subjected was sufficiently severe, if one might judge by many a piteous
cry which echoed up the valley for some minutes after they were driven
in a crowd down the road. The young lady covered her eyes with her hands
and remained silent; but a grim smile came upon the countenance of the
Lord of Masseran, as if there was something pleasant to him in the music
of human suffering.
There were still some ten or twelve of Leon's band around, and their
next task was to untie the hands of such of the Lord of Masseran's
people as were still bound. "Now, sir," continued the brigand, as soon
as this was accomplished, "you shall have good escort back to your
chateau. But we must go in separate parties. You and your four servants
under the careful protection of Elois here, by the mountain path you
know of. The young lady I myself will escort by the longer, but the
smoother road."
"Nay! nay!" exclaimed the Lord of Masseran, quickly. "Why separate us?
If you mean well by her, why not let--"
"Because it pleases me not," replied the brigand, in a stern tone. "Who
is lord here upon the side of the mountain but I? You are lord in your
chateau, and none dare answer you. But I am lord in the moonlight and on
the hillside, and none shall answer me."
"Oh! in pity, in pity!" exclaimed the young lady, holding out her hands
with a gesture of entreaty. But the brigand advanced to her horse's
side, and spoke a word to her in a low tone. She let her hands drop
again without reply, and Bernard de Rohan, who had remained in the
shade, while the moonlight fell full upon her, could see her eyes
suddenly turn towards the spot where he stood.
"Lead on the Lord of Masseran, Elois," said the voice of Corse de Leon.
"Leave that poor fellow who seems wounded with the lady, and take the
rest with you."
There was no reply, and the Savoyard nobleman, with his companions, was
led on by a strong party of the brigands up the valley, and then across
the stream. As he passed Bernard de Rohan, he fixed his eyes upon him
for a moment, but made no observation; and, at the same time, the
brigand held up his finger to the young cavalier, as if directing him
still to forbear for a time.
As soon as the hill hid the other party from their sight, Bernard de
Rohan, unable to bear the restraint any longer, sprang forward to the
lady's side, and threw his arms around her. His head was bare, and, as
he looked up towards her, the moonlight fell full upon his face. As if
still doubtful, however, she gazed wildly and eagerly upon him; parted
the curls of his hair with her hands back from his forehead; then threw
her arms round his neck, and, bending her head, wept upon his shoulder.