M. DE RONE CANNOT READ A CYPHER
My first thought on leaving de Rone was to make my way direct to the
quarters of the staff, where I felt sure of welcome and accommodation
for the rest of the night. These lay a hundred toises or so from the
General's pavilion, facing from me; but as I came near to them I saw a
pennon of light streaming from the partly open door of the largest
tent, and from within burst a chorus of voices singing an old
_chanson_ of Guienne.
Frere Jacques, dormez-vous?
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines--
Bim! Baum! Baum!
Bim! Baum! Baum! The last line was repeated amidst peals of laughter,
followed by the crashing of glass. It was enough for me. I was in no
mood for any further folly, or any more d'Arbois, and resolved to make
the best of it in the open, as at this hour it was worse than useless
to attempt to find my lackey Jacques, whom I had left behind in the
camp with my belongings when I went on to the outposts. This man, I
may note, was a faithful servant of our house, rough of manner,
perhaps, but one who could be trusted to the end of his sword; and it
was annoying to know that any search for him would be useless, as I
had a message or so to send to Auriac, in the event of the worst
happening. But resigning myself to what could not be helped I found a
spot under some peach trees, which was convenient enough for my
purpose. Tethering my horse to a stump, I removed the saddle, which I
made shift to use as a cushion, and, leaning my back against it, was
soon as comfortable as circumstances would permit. Enough had happened
to drive from my head any of the fumes of the d'Arbois that may have
been lurking there. In short, I was as sober as MM. of the High Court
of Paris, and as wide awake as a cat on the look out for a mouse. Do
what I could, sleep would not come, and I began, for want of a better
thing, to reflect on my position. To act on Nicholas' advice and
desert was out of the question; my private honour was not to be
smirched, and the few hours I had yet to live were not to be spent in
the breaking of my faith. A few hours to live! Involuntarily I
stretched out my arm and drew it back, feeling the muscle rise at the
movement. Good Lord! It was cruel! When one is five-and-twenty, and
strong as a bull, it is hard to die. One death, that on the field, I
could face with an equal mind; but if the chances of to-morrow were
not kind, then there was the other matter, and the last of the
d'Auriacs would swing like a _croquemort_ from the branch of a tree.
_Morbleu!_ It was not to be borne, and I swore that my own hand should
free my soul, rather than it should choke its way out to eternity at
the end of a greased rope. The slight flesh wound I had received from
de Gomeron beginning to sting at this moment, I thrust my hand into my
pocket, and pulling out my kerchief, placed it over the spot. With the
kerchief I drew out the knot of ribbon, and the sight of this, as I
picked it up and held it between my fingers, changed the current of my
thoughts. Almost in spite of myself I began to think of Madame, as I
called her, by the only name I knew. It was a strangely formal title
for one so young! Who was she? Some great lady of the court, perhaps.
The wife--the thought jarred on me, and I put it aside, and then grew
cold all over at the recollection of the danger she had escaped. At
any rate, it was my hand that had rescued her from her peril. If we
met again, it must surely be as friends, and it was pleasant to dwell
on that. As my mind ran on in this way, I noticed a pin attached to
the dainty bow, and at first I had a mind to fasten the token to the
side of my hat, saying half aloud to myself, '_Par Dieu!_ But I will
bear this favour to the King to-morrow,' and then I felt I had no
right to wear the ribbon, and, changing my intention to do so, thrust
it back with a half smile at my folly.
Gradually the moonlight faded into a shimmering mist, through which
purple shadows came and went; gradually the mist grew darker and
darker, and I fell asleep. My sleep could not have lasted much more
than an hour; but so profound was it that ages seemed to have passed
when I awoke with a start, and the consciousness of movement around
me. The moon was on the wane; but I saw that the camp was astir, and
that the men were being mustered as silently as possible.
'So things are about to happen,' I said to myself, recalling de Rone's
words, and hastily saddling my horse, sprang on his back, and moved
towards the General's tent. All around me was the muffled tramp of
feet, the jingle of chain-bits and steel scabbards, the plunging of
impatient horses, and a subdued hum of voices, above which rose now
and again a hoarse word of command, as regiment after regiment wheeled
into position on the level stretch before us. Three long black lines
were moving noiselessly and rapidly towards the Oise. I knew they were
de Leyva's brigade of Spanish infantry, veterans of the war of
Flanders. To my right the occasional flash of a lance-head through the
thick haze that was coming up, but which the morning sun would
dissipate, showed me where the cuirassiers of Aumale were, and I
thought of de Gomeron with regret that I had not finished him before
de Rone's inopportune arrival. I had to die, and it might have been
some consolation, in such mood was I, to have sent Adam de Gomeron on
the dark way before me.
When I reached the General's pavilion de Rone was just mounting his
horse, a lackey standing near with a sputtering torch, and his staff
in a little clump, a few yards away. I saluted, and he gave me a keen
look, saying:
'So you have come, M. d'Auriac--take your place with the staff. I will
give you your work later on--and remember.'
'I am not likely to forget, M. le Marquis,' and I moved off in the
direction indicated.
'Is that you, d'Auriac?' 'Why have you left the outposts?'
'_Sangdieu!_ but why did you not come to us last night?' 'How is M. de
Rethelois, and have you seen the abbess of Ste. Genevieve?'
These and suchlike greetings met me as I was recognised and welcomed
by de Belin, the young Tavannes, de Cosse-Brissac, and others of my
acquaintance. I replied as best I might, but there was no time for
much talk, as the General was moving onwards at a rapid pace, and we
were compelled to follow at once. I dropped a little to the rear, to
husband the strength of my horse as far as possible, and was joined by
another rider.
^Is that you, Belin?'
'_Ma foi!_ Yes. It is the devil being hustled up so early in the
morning--I am yet but half awake.'
'I was surprised to find you here. I thought you were with the
Archduke and de Mayenne.'
'What! have you not heard?'
'What in the devil's name could I hear on those cursed outposts?'
'Then in your ear--the Remois have gone from us, and de Mayenne and
the Guisard have passed over to the King. My news is certain, and the
Archduke has sent a cypher to de Rone bidding him retreat at once on
Amiens.'
'But this does not look like a retreat.'
'No; de Rone has lost the key of the cypher.'
We both laughed, and Belin went on: 'It was droll. I saw him receive
the message, which the old fox must have read at a glance. But he
turned it this way and that, and looking at Egmont, said as calmly as
possible, "Ride back to Amiens and fetch me the key. I have lost mine
and cannot follow the cypher"--but hark!' and Belin interrupted
himself, 'there is de Rethelois' good morning.'
Even as he spoke three bright flashes came from the citadel of La
Fere, and the big guns from the bastion of Ste. Genevieve boomed
sullenly into the morning. Then a long streak of fire ran across the
grey mist, followed by the angry crackle of the petronels, above which
the reports of the bombards of the trench-masters, as they replied to
de Rethelois' artillery, sounded like strokes on a war drum.
'_Ventre St. Gris!_ The Spaniards have drawn first blood, Belin.'
'M. d'Auriac!'
De Rone's voice stopped any further talk, and I spurred to his side.
'My compliments to the Conde de Leyva and ask him not to waste time
spitting at de Rethelois--tell him to leave a sufficient force to
hold the garrison in check, and move across the river towards St.
Gobains--report yourself to me at the ford.'
I galloped off, and when I reached the Spaniard, whom I found with
some difficulty, I discovered that he had already anticipated de
Rone's orders, and had besides almost cut off a sortie from the city.
There was nothing for it, therefore, but to wish de Leyva a pleasant
day and to go on to the ford.
And now a pale band of orange stretched across the east, and daylight
rapidly came. A fair breeze sprang up with the sun, blowing the vapour
into long feathery clouds that rolled slowly to the west. So heavy was
the fire de Rethelois kept up from the citadel that its square keep
was entirely hidden by the smoke; but as I rode towards the ford down
the long slope that ended in the Red Mill, I saw on my right the whole
of de Rone's army, advancing to the river in long even columns, and on
my left, where they appeared to have sprung up by magic, two strong
bodies of cavalry, whilst behind them, marching as rapidly as our own
troops, and in as perfect order, came the men of Arques and Ivry, of
Fontaine Francaise, and all the hundred fights of Henry of Navarre.
By this time I had come to the outpost, and found the thatched roof of
the cottage in flames, the result of a stray shell that had dropped
through it, and blown down half of the remaining walls. It was clearly
empty, but as I trotted past the thorn hedge I saw, about fifty paces
or so to my right, a single horseman under a tree. His hands were tied
behind him, and a cord, which hung from a branch overhead, ended in a
noose secured lightly but firmly round his neck. His position was such
that if the horse moved away from beneath him he would hang, and the
poor wretch was absorbed in coaxing the animal to remain steady; but
the trooper he bestrode had already scented the coming battle. His
ears were cocked, his tail held out in an arch, and he was pawing at
the ground with his forefoot. I could not hear what the man was
saying, but his lips were moving, I doubt not with mingled prayers and
curses, and I could see that he was trying to restrain the animal by
the pressure of his knees. Another look showed me it was Nicholas, the
sergeant, and knowing there was little leisure to lose if the knave
was to be saved, I put spurs to my beast and headed towards him. I was
just in time, for as I started the old trooper gave a loud neigh,
flourished his heels in the air, and galloped off towards the enemy,
with his mane and tail streaming in the wind. A touch of my sword
freed Nicholas, but it was a narrow affair, and he lay gasping on the
ground, and as he lay there I noticed that his ears had been cropped
close to his head, and that the wounds were quite fresh. He recovered
himself in about a minute, for the dog was tough as leather, and was
about to pour forth his thanks and tell me how he came in such plight,
but, sincerely sorry as I was, I had to cut him short.
'Keep the story for another day, Nicholas,' I said, 'and follow the
example of your horse, who I see is a loyal subject, and has gone
straight back to the King.'
With these words I spurred onwards, leaving Nicholas to follow my
advice or not, as he listed. I had gathered enough, however, to find
out that he was a victim to M. de Gomeron's ingenious humour. Little
did I think, however, when I saved this poor fellow how amply I would
be re-quited hereafter.
I reached the ford just before the General, and saw that our right
flank had already crossed the river in the far distance. Opposite us
the Royalists appeared to be in some confusion; but in a moment they
were restored to order, and moved steadily on.
'The King is there,' burst out Belin, and a grim smile passed over de
Rone's features as he nodded his head slightly in token of assent. As
Belin spoke a group of about half a dozen riders galloped from the
enemy's van, and, coming straight towards us, halted a bare hundred
paces or so from the river bank. The leading horseman was mounted on a
bay charger, and it needed not a second glance, nor a look at the
white plumes in his helmet, to tell that it was Henry himself. Close
beside him was a short, dark, thick-set man, with the jewel of the
Order of France at his neck. He managed the grey he rode with infinite
skill, and with his drawn sword pointed towards us, seemed to be
urging something on the King.
'Who is that?' I asked.
'The King's viper,' answered Belin, 'who will sting him some day: do
you not know Biron? _Mordieu!_' he added, turning to de Rone, 'shall
we end the war, General; we could do it with a bit of lead that
wouldn't cost the tenth part of a tester?'
De Rone's brown cheek paled at the words, and for an instant he seemed
to hesitate, and I could well understand his temptation.
'No,' he replied--'_drop that_,' he thundered to a musketeer who was
poising his piece, and the man fell back with a disappointed air.
'_Peste!_' grumbled Belin, 'we might have all been in Paris within the
week, whereas now it will take a fortnight at the least.'
'Or a month, or a year, or never--eh, Belin,' gibed de Tavannes.
'Do you think the fair Angelique will be constant?' asked another.
Belin glanced at the laced favour in his hat with a smile, and
answered: 'God bless our ladies! They know how to be constant--see
there, messieurs,' and he pointed to a single figure, mounted on a
barb, that rode out of the French lines and galloped forward, alone
and unattended, to the side of the King. We saw as the barb approached
that the figure was that of a woman, and, moreover, that of a very
beautiful woman. She was dressed in a hunting habit of dark green,
with a black hat and black feathers, under which we could see the
light of her fair hair. As she reined up beside the King, Henry turned
to her, as if expostulating, but she bent forward suddenly and kissed
his hand, and then with charming courtesy took out her kerchief and
waved it at us in dainty greeting.
''Tis Gabrielle, the Duchesse de Beaufort herself!' exclaimed de
Tavannes, and then gave tongue in a ringing cheer, which was taken up
by us all, and rolled down the long line of battle, till its echoes
reached us from even the furthest wings.
De Rone lifted his plumed hat in response to Madame d'Estrees'
greeting, and the King, bowing slightly to us from his saddle, put his
hand on the barb's reins, and turning the horse's head, galloped his
mistress to a place of safety. As they reached the mound whereon the
royal guidon was displayed, we heard the opening bars of the Pont
d'Audemer march, and as they ceased a red tongue of flame licked out
from behind a cornfield and a masked battery opened on us.