ARNAULD DU THILL, THOUGH ABSENT, CONTINUES TO EXERT
A FATAL INFLUENCE ON THE DESTINY OF POOR MARTIN-GUERRE
It was a moment of fearful suffering,--a supreme crisis. Gabriel saw
that he was threatened by three distinct dangers. Beneath his feet, the
roaring sea seemed to be calling to its prey with its mighty voice.
Before him twelve terrified men, unable to move either forward or back,
barred the road to the third source of danger,--the English pikes and
arquebuses which were perhaps waiting for them to show their heads above
the battlements.
On all sides, terror and death seemed to threaten the poor beings upon
that vibrating ladder.
Fortunately, Gabriel was not the man to waste precious time in
hesitating even between two formidable perils, and he made up his mind
in an instant.
He never stopped to wonder whether his grasp might not fail, and his
brains be dashed out on the rocks below. Clinging closely to the rope
that formed one side of the ladder, he raised himself by his hands
alone, and passed by the twelve men in front of him one after another.
Thanks to his enormous strength of muscle, as well as of soul, he
reached Yvonnet without accident, and was at last able to place his feet
beside those of Martin-Guerre.
"Will you go on or not?" said he to Yvonnet, in sharp and commanding
tones.
"I am--dizzy," replied the poor wretch, whose teeth were chattering and
his hair standing on end.
"Will you go on?" repeated Gabriel.
"Impossible!" said Yvonnet. "I feel as if my feet and hands were leaving
the rounds to which they are clinging. I am going to fall."
"We will see," said Gabriel.
He pulled himself up as far as Yvonnet's waist, and pricked him in the
back with the point of his sword.
"Can you feel the point of my sword?" he asked.
"Yes, Monseigneur! Oh, mercy! I am afraid. Mercy!"
"The blade is sharp and keen," continued Gabriel, with marvellous
_sang-froid_. "At the least backward movement on your part it will bury
itself in your body. Now listen, Yvonnet; Martin-Guerre will pass in
front of you and I shall remain behind. If you do not follow
Martin-Guerre,--mark well what I say: if you show one symptom of
flinching, I swear by God above that you shall not fall and drag others
down with you, for I will nail you to the wall with my sword, and hold
you there until they have all passed over your body."
"Oh, mercy, Monseigneur! I will obey!" cried Yvonnet, cured of one
fright by a greater one.
"Martin," said Vicomte d'Exmès, "you heard what I said. Pass him and go
on."
Martin-Guerre in his turn executed the evolution which he had seen his
master perform, and assumed the first place.
"Forward!" said Gabriel.
Martin went bravely up, and Yvonnet, menaced by Gabriel, who carried his
sword in his right hand and used only his left to assist his feet in the
ascent, forgot his vertigo, and followed the squire.
Thus the fourteen men ascended the last one hundred and fifty rounds of
the ladder. "_Parbleu_!" thought Martin-Guerre, whose good humor came
back to him as he saw the space which separated him from the summit of
the tower growing ever less. "_Parbleu_! Monseigneur discovered a
sovereign cure for the vertigo."
He had just finished that pleasant reflection, when his head reached the
level of the edge of the platform.
"Is it you?" asked a voice unknown to Martin.
"_Parbleu_!" the squire replied in an unembarrassed tone.
"It is quite time," rejoined the sentinel, "In less than five minutes
the patrol will be making their third round."
"Good! we will be ready for them," said Martin-Guerre.
As he spoke he triumphantly placed one knee upon the ledge of stone.
"Ah!" cried the sentinel, suddenly, trying to get a better view of him
in the darkness; "what is your name?"
"Why! Martin-Guerre--"
He did not finish what he was saying, for Pierre Peuquoy (it was no
other than he) gave him no time to put the other knee beside its fellow,
but giving him a violent push with both hands, hurled him headlong into
the abyss.
"Holy Jesus!" was all that poor Martin-Guerre said.
Then he fell without a sound, concentrating all his energies in a
sublime effort to change the course of his fall so as not to endanger
the safety of his companions and his master.
Yvonnet, who followed him, and who recovered all his courage and
boldness as soon as he felt the solid rock beneath his feet, leaped upon
the platform, followed by Gabriel and all the others.
Pierre Peuquoy made no further opposition. He remained standing as if
turned to stone, and unconscious of what was passing.
"Wretch!" cried Gabriel, seizing him by the arm, and shaking him; what
insane fury has taken possession of you "What has Martin-Guerre done to
you?"
"To me, nothing," replied the armorer in a dull voice. "But to Babette,
my sister!"
"Ah, I had forgotten!" cried Gabriel in alarm. "Poor Martin! But it was
not he! May he not be saved even yet?"
"Be saved after a fall of more than two hundred and fifty feet upon a
rock!" exclaimed Pierre Peuquoy with a harsh laugh. "Come, Monsieur le
Vicomte, you would be better employed just now in thinking about taking
measures to save yourself and your companions."
"My companions, yes, and my father and Diane," said the young man to
himself, recalled by these words to the duties and the risks of his
situation; "but still," he continued aloud, "my poor Martin!"
"This is no time to bemoan the villain's fate," Pierre Peuquoy
interposed.
"Villain! he was innocent, I tell you, and I will prove it to you. But
this is not the time; you are right. Are you still inclined to aid us?"
Gabriel asked the armorer, rather bluntly.
"I am devoted to France and to you," replied Pierre. "Very well," said
Gabriel. "What remains for us to do now?"
"The night patrol will soon pass," replied the burgher; "we must choke
and gag the four men who compose it. But," he added hurriedly, "it is
too late to surprise them. Here they are!"
Just as Pierre spoke, the urban patrol actually came out upon the
platform by an interior staircase. If they gave the alarm, all might be
lost.
Luckily the two Scharfensteins, uncle and nephew, who were of a very
inquisitive and prying nature, were prowling around on that side. The
men of the patrol had no time to utter a sound. An enormous hand closing
the mouth of each one of them from behind, threw them violently upon
their backs as well.
Pilletrousse and two others ran to them, and the four bewildered
militiamen were easily gagged and disarmed.
"Well done!" said Pierre Peuquoy. "Now, Monseigneur, we must make sure
of the other sentinels, and then make a bold descent upon the
guard-house. We have two posts to carry. But have no fear of being
overborne by numbers. More than half of the city militia, having been
influenced by Jean and myself, are for the French cause heart and soul,
and only await the proper moment to show their devotion. I will go down
first to notify our friends of your success; meanwhile you can look
after the sentinels. When I return, my words will already have
accomplished three fourths of the task."
"Ah, I would thank you, Peuquoy," said Gabriel, "if Martin-Guerre's
death,--and yet from your standpoint you did only what was just."
"Once more, Monsieur d'Exmès, I beg you to leave that to God and my
conscience," replied the stern burgher. "I acquit you of blame. Now act
your part while I fulfil mine."
Everything happened almost precisely as Pierre had foreseen. The
sentinels belonged to the French faction in a large majority of
instances. One who undertook to resist was soon bound and rendered
incapable of doing any harm. When the armorer returned, accompanied by
Jean Peuquoy and a few sure friends, the whole summit of the Risbank
fort was already in Vicomte d'Exmès hands.
It remained now to overthrow the _corps-de-garde_ with the reinforcement
brought by the Peuquoys. Gabriel did not hesitate to go down at once.
Advantage was skilfully taken of the first moment of surprise and
uncertainty.
At that early hour, most of those who remained firm in the cause of
England, either by birth or interest, were still asleep in perfect
security upon their camp beds. Before they were fairly awake, so to
speak, hands were at their throats.
The tumult, for it was not a battle, lasted only a few moments. The
friends of Peuquoy shouted, "Vive la France! Vive Henri II.!" The
non-combatants, and those who were indifferent, lost no time in arraying
themselves, as they always do, under the successful banner. Those who
made a show of resistance were soon compelled to yield to superior
numbers. There were, in all, only two men killed and five wounded, and
only three shots were fired. The devout Lactance was unfortunate enough
to have two of the wounded and one of the slain to his credit. Luckily
he had time to spare!
It was not six o'clock when every part of the Risbank fort was in the
power of the French. The disaffected and the suspected were securely
confined, and all the rest of the city guard surrounded Gabriel and
hailed him as a liberator.
Thus was carried, almost without a blow, and in less than an hour, by an
extraordinary and superhuman achievement, this fort which the English
had never dreamed of fortifying, because the sea alone seemed to be such
an impregnable defence to it,--a fort, which was nevertheless the key to
the harbor of Calais, yes, to Calais itself.
The whole transaction was accomplished so quickly and quietly that the
entire fort was taken, and new sentinels stationed by Gabriel, and a new
countersign given out, before anything of it was known in the city.
"However, so long as Calais itself has not surrendered," said Pierre
Peuquoy to Gabriel, "I do not consider that our task is done. So,
Monsieur d'Exmès. I am of opinion that you had best keep Jean and half
of our men here to make good the fort, and leave me and the other half
to go into the city. We may do the French better service there than
here, in case of need, by some useful diversion. After Jean's ropes, it
will be well to make use of Pierre's arms."
"Are you not afraid," said Gabriel, "that Lord Wentworth, in his rage,
may do you an ill turn?"
"Never fear," replied Pierre; "I will resort to a little artifice, which
will be justifiable warfare with those who have been our oppressors for
two centuries. If necessary, I will accuse Jean of having betrayed us.
We were surprised by a superior force, and compelled, in spite of our
resistance, to surrender at discretion. Those of us who refused to
recognize your victory were driven out of the fort. Lord Wentworth's
affairs are at so serious a pass that he must at least pretend to
believe us, and be grateful to us."
"So be it! Go down into Calais," rejoined Gabriel, "for I see that you
are as clever as you are brave. And it is certain that you can assist
me, if I should decide to make a sortie."
"Oh, don't risk that, I beg you!" said Pierre, "you are not in
sufficient numbers, and you have little to gain and everything to lose
by a sortie. Here in your tower, behind these good walls, you occupy an
impregnable position. Pray remain here. If you take the offensive, Lord
Wentworth may very possibly retake the fort; and after having
accomplished so much it would be a great shame to lose its manifest
advantages."
"But do you propose," rejoined Gabriel, "that I should remain idle here
with my sword in its scabbard while Monsieur de Guise and all our troops
are fighting and risking their lives?"
"Their lives are their own, Monseigneur, but the Risbank fort belongs to
France," replied the prudent burgher. "But listen; when I consider that
the favorable moment has arrived, and that only one last decisive blow
is needed to tear Calais from the hands of the English, I will cause
those whom I have with me, and all the inhabitants who share my
opinions, to rise as one man. Then, when everything is ripe for victory,
you may make a sortie, to give the finishing blow and open the city to
the Duc de Guise."
"But who will let me know when I may venture?" asked Gabriel.
"Give me the horn which I presented to you," said Pierre, "whose note
served to make your coming known to me. When you hear its sound once
more, go forth without fear, and share in the triumph you have so nobly
prepared."
Gabriel thanked Pierre heartily, helped him select the men who were to
go with him into the city to assist the French troops in case of need,
and graciously accompanied them as far as the gate of the fort, out of
which they were to pretend they had been driven in disgrace.
By the time this was done it was half past seven, and the first streaks
of dawn were visible in the sky.
Gabriel desired to make sure personally that the French standards which
were to bring peace to the mind of Monsieur de Guise and strike terror
to the English men-of-war were hoisted over the fort. Consequently he
ascended to the platform which had been the scene of the main events of
that glorious but fateful morning.
With pallid cheeks he drew near the spot at which the rope ladder had
been attached, and whence poor Martin-Guerre had been hurled, the victim
of a fatal mistake.
Shudderingly he leaned over the abyss, expecting to see the mutilated
corpse of his faithful squire on the rocks below.
At first he failed to espy him, and his eye glanced hither and thither
in surprise, mingled with a faint hope.
A leaden spout, by which the rain-water from the tower was carried off,
had stopped the body midway in its terrible fall; and there Gabriel saw
it hanging, motionless and doubled up over the spout.
At first sight he thought that life was extinct, but he desired to pay
the last tokens of respect in any event.
Pilletrousse, whom Martin-Guerre had always been fond of, was looking on
weeping, and his devotion to his friend seconded his master's pious
reflections. He fastened himself securely to the rope ladder, and
ventured down into the abyss.
When he reascended, bringing with him, after much labor, the body of his
friend, they saw that Martin was still breathing.
A surgeon who was at hand announced that life was not extinct; in fact,
Martin regained consciousness to some extent.
But he came back to greater suffering, for he was in a sad plight. He
had a broken arm and a crushed thigh.
The surgeon could set the arm without difficulty, but he judged it
necessary to amputate the leg, and did not dare to undertake so
difficult an operation alone.
More than ever Gabriel deplored that though a victor, he was confined to
the Risbank fort. The delay, which had been trying enough before, now
became almost intolerable.
If only he could get word to expert Ambroise Paré, Martin-Guerre might
be saved.