October had come by now, Marlborough's camp was at Sutendal, and the
army was but waiting to receive the latest information as to the
disposal of the French round Liége to throw their pontoons across
the river Jaar, and, after crossing, to march in two columns on that
city. Venloo was taken, so, too, were Ruremond and Stevenswaert; the
Earl, to use his own words, had now but one enemy between him and
Liége--the weather.
Meanwhile, there had passed between Marlborough and Le Maréchal de
Boufflers some of those courteous epistles which, at that time, it was
customary for the principal commanders of hostile forces to indite to
each other. Cartels, as they were then termed, in which the one would
inform the other that he had so many prisoners in his hands whom he
desired to exchange for some of his own men who might happen to be in
the hands of his adversary, and that he would be obliged by the
consent of the other being given. In one of the most recent of these,
Marlborough had stated briefly the case of Bevill Bracton, while
making comparisons between it and that of the Marquis de Cabrieres,
and had informed the French commander that he was willing to exchange
the latter gentleman against his own countryman, now a prisoner in
Liége.
To this there had been returned an answer by De Boufflers in which he
stated that, with regard to the ordinary prisoners in his and
Marlborough's hands, the exchange should be willingly made, but that a
regards the Englishman now a prisoner at Liége it was not in his power
to do anything. The decision, he continued, rested with M. Tallard,
who was at the moment near Bonn, although De Boufflers added that, if
it were possible for him to communicate with Liége, he, as supreme
commander of the French army of the Netherlands, would send orders
that, presuming the English prisoner had not been already found guilty
and executed, the execution should be delayed.
"This is, perhaps, no very satisfying news," the Earl of Marlborough
said, when, after having received this letter from his adversary, he
proceeded to a tent near his own pavilion in which the Comtesse de
Valorme and Sylvia were installed. Nor were they the only women
present in this camp, since, wherever an army definitely halted for
any length of time, there always appeared on the scene the wives and
daughters of the local peasantry intent on selling any provisions and
drink they might chance to be possessed of. Also, they were always
willing to hire out their services in washing and mending, attending
to the sick and wounded, and, sometimes, if they were of the worst
species, of robbing the latter. But in the case of Sylvia and the
Comtesse, an honest, respectable creature had been found at Asch who
acted as general maid to both, and, when the camp was removed to
Sutendal some few miles off, was willing to accompany them in that
capacity.
"Yet, my lord," Sylvia said, in answer to the Earl's remark, "at least
it is something. Except for those last awful words, 'if the prisoner
has not yet been found guilty and executed,' there is much hope in the
letter. Le Maréchal de Boufflers says if he could communicate with
Liége he would send orders for delay."
"That, however," the Earl replied, "it is impossible for him to do. We
are between him and Liége, and another portion of our forces is
between M. Tallard and Liége. In no way can that letter reach the
Governor."
"Therefore," said the Comtesse, "neither can the warrant, which your
Lordship says would undoubtedly have to be signed by one of these two
generals, reach him either. If one of the enemy, bearing that which
will save Bevill Bracton, cannot reach M. de Violaine, how is it
possible for the warrant to reach M. Tallard, and how be returned?"
"That is indeed true," Marlborough said reflectively. "While, for our
army, we cannot invest Liége yet. We must wait for our reinforcements.
And even at the last moment, when the men of the garrison find
themselves attacked by us, they might proceed to the extreme. Or--" but
he paused. He would not repeat again that which must at least be as
obvious to those women as to him, that which had been obvious to the
Maréchal de Boufflers--the possibility of Bevill having been already
found guilty and executed.
A moment later, however, the Earl added.
"'Tis pity--a thousand pities--we cannot yet advance on Liége or
communicate with the Governor--reach his ear somehow. For this reply
from De Boufflers to me would be sufficient. With that letter from the
Generalissimo of the French army in his hand, not even the signed
warrant of Tallard could have effect."
"You cannot reach him, you cannot communicate with him, my lord!"
Sylvia exclaimed, her whole body quivering with excitement as she
spoke, her eyes glistening like stars. "You cannot reach him!"
"It is impossible. If I send forward a regiment they will be fallen
upon, annihilated by some out of the thirty thousand troops that are
near here; even an English regiment cannot fight half the army of
France and Spain. Though," he added, "it is our curse to be always too
self-vaunting and to believe we can perform superhuman feats."
"They will not annihilate me," Sylvia said. "What an English regiment
cannot do an English woman hastening to save her lover can."
"You, Mistress Thorne! You!" Marlborough exclaimed, taken almost
aback, if one so calm as he could by any means be startled. "You!"
"Yes, I. I reached here in safety. I can return."
"But you will be stopped; your reasons will be demanded. And--you may
not fall into the hands of French officers--of gentlemen. Their
patrols, pickets, outposts, are commanded by sergeants and corporals.
They are not always even French but, instead, Spanish, and mercenaries
at that. Also they may not be able to read the Maréchal's letter, to
understand----"
"They will understand what I tell them," Sylvia exclaimed, carried
away by the excitement of her thoughts and desires. "That I, an
Englishwoman, one who, after escaping out of Liége when her lover was
to be tried for his life as a spy, was forced--by her love--to return
to his side. And," she continued, "they, those French and Spanish who
hate us English so dearly, will not thwart but rather assist me to
re-enter the jaws of the trap. Only they will not know that in my
possession will be that letter of their supreme commander; one that
will o'erweigh even the orders of M. Tallard, should he have sent
them. If," she added, almost hysterically, as her memory reverted to
those written words of the French marshal, "it is not too late. If it
is not--ah! Heaven grant it may not be."
[Illustration: "Sylvia threw herself weeping into the arms of the
Comtesse."--_p_. 1176.]
And Sylvia threw herself weeping into the arms of the Comtesse.
For a moment--only a moment--Marlborough's eyes rested on her even as,
it may be, he thought that here was a woman whose love and heroism,
whose loyalty to the man who had gained her heart, might match with
the love and loyalty of the woman who was his own wife--the woman who,
hated by many for her imperious nature and haughty spirit, was the
most fond, proud wife whom any husband's arms had ever enfolded. The
woman who, even while she teased and vexed him with her overbearing
temper and violent disposition, loved him as deeply and fondly as the
day when first they became lovers.
A moment later and when now Sylvia stood once more upright before him,
he, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, said:
"It may not be that he shall perish. Mr. Bracton must live even to
claim you for his bride. Therefore, your desire to return to Liége
with the letter--it is a shrewd one, worthy of a woman's wit!--shall
not be gainsaid. While, for the rest, you shall be accompanied some
part of the way, 'Tis but a day's ride. Also," and now his voice sank
a little lower so that the shrillness that was so often apparent in it
was no longer perceptible, "if they permit that you should see him,
your affianced husband----"
"Ah!" Sylvia said. "If--if I should see him! If--no! no!" she
almost moaned. "I cannot say the words." But recovering herself a
moment later, forcing herself to be valiant, she continued, "If
he--is--still--alive it may be we shall become fellow prisoners. Once
M. de Violaine has me in his keeping again he will give me no further
chance of escape."
"Nor me," the Comtesse said. "In his stern sense of honour he will
deem me a traitor. Though I am none to France but only to the King and
'her'--to the woman he has made his wife." For it was as "her" and
"she" that all France spoke of the "dark and fatal woman," De
Maintenon--all France, no matter of what faith, while at the same time
refusing to accord her the title of Queen or the right to bear that
title. De Maintenon who, born a Protestant, had now been for years the
most cruel and vindictive oppressor of all Protestants.
"If it may be so," Marlborough continued; "say to him, I beg, that
from the moment we meet again he shall become once more a soldier of
the Queen. Even though he has not accomplished that which he set out
to do, the attempt was gallant, was well worthy of reward."
"Heaven above bless you," Sylvia said, and now she held out her hand
to Marlborough, while, as he took it and as, for a moment, his eyes
scanned all the troubled beauty of her face, she added: "Henceforth,
no matter what befall, in the prayers of a humble subject of that
Queen her greatest subject shall be remembered. Farewell, my lord. I
thank you from my heart."
"Not farewell. We shall meet again at Liége. We and one other--your
future husband. I pray it may be so. Such noble bravery as yours
cannot surely go unrewarded."
And now, ere departing, he turned from Sylvia to the Comtesse de
Valorme, his manner to her equally full of the chivalrous courtesy
which never failed him.
"Madame," he said, "ere you, too, depart with your friend, believe
that, as I have already said, England is preparing to make the cause
of those in the South of France hers. Already there are thousands of
French Protestants who have found succour and shelter in our land; the
Queen's intentions towards all of the Protestant religion cannot be
doubted. The matter is already broached. The Council is deliberating
on sending a fleet to the Mediterranean to succour those of your faith
and ours. Rest assured, madame, nothing will be forgotten that can aid
them."
As the Earl of Marlborough spoke, doubtless through the information he
was regularly supplied with from England, so things occurred. Sir
Cloudesley Shovel, the English admiral, did send the _Pembroke_ and
the _Tartar_ to the Gulf of Narbonne with a view not only to supply
the Camisards with money and arms and ammunition, but also to land men
to assist them. But, when they arrived off the coast and made signals
all night, there were none on shore who could comprehend them, for the
simple reason that the French Protestant who had been sent by the Earl
of Nottingham from London with the key to these signals, had been
arrested before he could reach Cette, and his body was at the
very time lying broken to pieces and mutilated on the wheel at
Aigues-Mortes. Later, but unhappily much later, the peace that was
patched up between Louis and his Protestant subjects came about not by
the force of arms but by the humanity of a French general, De Villars.
But neither the Comtesse de Valorme nor the Earl of Marlborough could
look into the glass of Time or tell what seeds should grow and what
should not, and, consequently, if the former did not set out with
Sylvia with her heart thoroughly at ease, at least that heart was full
of hope. Hope that those of her faith might at last be free from the
miseries they had endured so long; from the burnings, the wheels and
dungeons, the gallows formed by their own fruit trees, the deaths from
starvation of their old parents and helpless children, the galleys and
the forced exile to stranger lands.
And also, she set out with one other great, one supreme hope in her
heart for the immediate future. The hope, coupled with a prayer that
she and Sylvia might be in time to save Bevill from the fate that
still must threaten him, if already the worst had not befallen--the
prayer that, at last, he and Sylvia might be happy.
"For," she told herself again as she had done many times before, "they
love each other. Let my happiness in this world be to see their
happiness; my greatest hope never to lose hope that they may yet be
united, since, for me, there can never be any other," and, as these
thoughts passed through her mind, the tears fell from her eyes.