Marie Vaillant, after remaining six weeks at the chateau, returned
to England; and Philip, with a party of twelve men, escorted her to
La Rochelle. Her visit was cut short somewhat, at the end, by the
imminence of the outbreak of hostilities, in which case she might
have found a difficulty in traversing the country. Moreover, La
Rochelle would probably be besieged, soon after the war began; for
being both an important town and port, the Catholics would be
anxious to obtain possession of it, and so cut off the Huguenots
from escape to England, besides rendering it difficult for
Elizabeth to send a force to their assistance.
"It has been a pleasant time," the countess said, on the morning of
her departure; "and your presence has taken me back five-and-twenty
years, Marie. I hope that when these troubles are past you will
again come over, and spend a happier time with me. I was going to
say that I will look well after Philip, but that I cannot do. He
has cast his lot in with us, and must share our perils. I am
greatly pleased with him, and I am glad that Francois will have him
as a companion in arms. Francois is somewhat impulsive, and liable
to be carried away by his ardour; and Philip, although the younger,
is, it seems to me, the more thoughtful of the two. He is one I
feel I can have confidence in. He is grave, yet merry; light
hearted in a way, and yet, I think, prudent and cautious. It seems
strange, but I shall part with Francois with the more comfort, in
the thought that he has Philip with him.
"Don't come back more English than you are now, Marie; for truly
you seem to me to have fallen in love with the ways of these
islanders."
"I will try not to, Emilie; but I should not like the customs, did
it not seem to me that they are better than my own. In England
Protestants and Catholics live side by side in friendship, and
there is no persecution of anyone for his religion; the Catholics
who have suffered during the present reign have done so, not
because they are Catholics, but because they plotted against the
queen. Would that in France men would agree to worship, each in his
own way, without rancour or animosity."
"Tell Lucie that I am very sorry she did not come over with you and
Philip, and that it is only because you tell me how occupied she is
that I am not furiously angry with her.
"Tell her, too," she went on earnestly, "that I feel she is one of
us; still a Huguenot, a Frenchwoman, and one of our race, or she
would never have allowed her only son to come over, to risk his
life in our cause. I consider her a heroine, Marie. It is all very
well for me, whose religion is endangered, whose friends are in
peril, whose people are persecuted, to throw myself into the strife
and to send Francois into the battle; but with her, working there
with an invalid husband, and her heart, as it must be, wrapped up
in her boy, it is splendid to let him come out here, to fight side
by side with us for the faith. Whose idea was it first?"
"My husband's. Gaspard regards Philip almost in the light of a son.
He is a rich man now, as I told you, and Philip will become his
heir. Though he has no desire that he should settle in France, he
wished him to take his place in our family here, to show himself
worthy of his race, to become a brave soldier, to win credit and
honour, and to take his place perhaps, some day, in the front rank
of the gentry of Kent."
"They were worldly motives, Marie, and our ministers would denounce
them as sinful; but I cannot do so. I am a Huguenot, but I am a
countess of France, a member of one noble family and married into
another; and though, I believe, as staunch a Huguenot, and as ready
to lay down my life for our religion as any man or woman in France,
yet I cannot give up all the traditions of my rank, and hold that
fame and honour and reputation and courage are mere snares. But
such were not Lucie's feelings in letting him go, I will be bound;
nor yours."
"Mine partly," Marie said. "I am the wife now of a trader, though
one honoured in his class; but have still a little of your
feelings, Emilie, and remember that the blood of the De Moulins
runs in Philip's veins, and hope that he will do credit to it. I
don't think that Lucie has any such feelings. She is wrapt up in
duty--first her duty to God, secondly her duty to her crippled
husband, whom she adores; and I think she regarded the desire of
Philip to come out to fight in the Huguenot ranks as a call that
she ought not to oppose. I know she was heartbroken at parting with
him, and yet she never showed it.
"Lucie is a noble character. Everyone who knows her loves her. I
believe the very farm labourers would give their lives for her, and
a more utterly unselfish creature never lived."
"Well, she must take a holiday and come over with you, next time
you come, Marie. I hope that these troubles may soon be over,
though that is a thing one cannot foretell."
After seeing his aunt safely on board a ship at La Rochelle, Philip
prepared to return to the chateau. He and his aunt had stayed two
nights at the house of Maitre Bertram, and on his returning there
the latter asked:
"Have you yet found a suitable servant, Monsieur Philip?"
"No; my cousin has been inquiring among the tenantry, but the young
men are all bent on fighting, and indeed there are none of them who
would make the sort of servant one wants in a campaign--a man who
can not only groom horses and clean arms, but who knows something
of war, can forage for provisions, cook, wait on table, and has
intelligence. One wants an old soldier; one who has served in the
same capacity, if possible."
"I only asked because I have had a man pestering me to speak to you
about him. He happened to see you ride off, when you were here
last, and apparently became impressed with the idea that you would
be a good master. He is a cousin of one of my men, and heard I
suppose from him that you were likely to return. He has been to me
three or four times. I have told him again and again that he was
not the sort of man I could recommend, but he persisted in begging
me to let him see you himself."
"What sort of a fellow is he?"
"Well, to tell you the truth he is a sort of ne'er-do-well," the
merchant laughed. "I grant that he has not had much chance. His
father died when he was a child, and his mother soon married again.
There is no doubt that he was badly treated at home, and when he
was twelve he ran away. He was taken back and beaten, time after
time; but in a few hours he was always off again, and at last they
let him go his own way. There is nothing he hasn't turned his hand
to. First he lived in the woods, I fancy; and they say he was the
most arrant young poacher in the district, though he was so cunning
that he was never caught. At last he had to give that up. Then he
fished for a bit, but he couldn't stick to it. He has been always
doing odd jobs, turning his hand to whatever turned up. He worked
in a shipyard for a bit, then I took him as a sort of errand boy
and porter. He didn't stop long, and the next I heard of him he was
servant at a priest's. He has been a dozen other things, and for
the last three or four months he has been in the stables where your
horse was standing. I fancy you saw him there. Some people think he
is half a fool, but I don't agree with them; he is as sharp as a
needle, to my mind. But, as I say, he has never had a fair chance.
A fellow like that, without friends, is sure to get roughly
treated."
"Is he a young man of about one or two and twenty?" Philip asked.
"I remember a fellow of about that age brought out the horse, and
as he seemed to me a shrewd fellow, and had evidently taken great
pains in grooming Robin, I gave him a crown. I thought he needed
it, for his clothes were old and tattered, and he looked as if he
hadn't had a hearty meal for a week.
"Well, Maitre Bertram, can you tell me if, among his other
occupations, he has ever been charged with theft?"
"No, I have never heard that brought against him."
"Why did he leave you?"
"It was from no complaint as to his honesty. Indeed, he left of his
own accord, after a quarrel with one of the men, who was, as far as
I could learn, in the wrong. I did not even hear that he had left
until a week after, and it was too late then to go thoroughly into
the matter. Boys are always troublesome and, as everyone had warned
me that Pierre would turn out badly, I gave the matter but little
thought at the time. Of course, you will not think of taking the
luckless rascal as your servant."
"I don't know. I will have a talk with him, anyhow. A fellow like
that would certainly be handy; but whether he could be relied upon
to behave discreetly and soberly, and not to bring me into
discredit, is a different matter. Is he here now?"
"He is below. Shall I send him up here to you?"
"No, I will go down and see him in the courtyard. If he comes up
here he would be, perhaps, awkward and unnatural, and would not
speak so freely as he would in the open air."
The merchant shook his head.
"If you take the vagabond, remember, Monsieur Philip, that it is
altogether against my advice. I would never have spoken to you
about him, if I had imagined for a moment that you would think of
taking him. A fellow who has never kept any employment for two
months, how could he be fit for a post of confidence, and be able
to mix as your body servant with the households of honourable
families?"
"But you said yourself, Maitre Bertram, that he has never had a
fair chance. Well, I will see him, anyhow."
[Illustration: Philip gets his first look at Pierre.]
He descended into the courtyard, and could not help smiling as his
eye fell upon a figure seated on the horse block. He was looking
out through the gateway, and did not at first see Philip. The
expression of his face was dull and almost melancholy, but as
Philip's eye fell on him his attention was attracted by some
passing object in the street. His face lit up with amusement. His
lips twitched and his eyes twinkled. A moment later and the
transient humour passed, and the dull, listless expression again
stole over his face.
"Pierre!" Philip said sharply.
The young fellow started to his feet, as if shot upwards by a
spring; and as he turned and saw who had addressed him, took off
his cap and, bowing, stood twisting it round in his fingers.
"Monsieur Bertram tells me you want to come with me as a servant,
Pierre; but when I asked him about you, he does not give you such a
character as one would naturally require in a confidential servant.
Is there anyone who will speak for you?"
"Not a soul," the young man said doggedly; "and yet, monsieur, I am
not a bad fellow. What can a man do, when he has not a friend in
the world? He picks up a living as he can, but everybody looks at
him with suspicion. There is no friend to take his part, and so
people vent their ill humours upon him, till the time comes when he
revolts at the injustice and strikes back; and then he has to begin
it all over again, somewhere else.
"And yet, sir, I know that I could be faithful and true to anyone
who would not treat me like a dog. You spoke kindly to me in the
stable, and gave me a crown. No one had ever given me a crown
before. But I cared less for that than for the way you spoke. Then
I saw you start, and you spoke pleasantly to your men; and I said
to myself, 'that is the master I would serve, if he would let me.'
"Try me, sir, and if you do not find me faithful, honest, and true
to you, tell your men to string me up to a bough. I do not drink,
and have been in so many services that, ragged as you see me, I can
yet behave so as not to do discredit to you."
Philip hesitated. There was no mistaking the earnestness with which
the youth spoke.
"Are you a Catholic or a Huguenot?" he asked.
"I know nothing of the difference between them," Pierre replied.
"How should I? No one has ever troubled about me, one way or the
other. When my mother lived I went to Mass with her; since then I
have gone nowhere. I have had no Sunday clothes. I know that the
bon Dieu has taken care of me, or I should have died of hunger,
long ago. The priest I was with used to tell me that the Huguenots
were worse than heathen; but if that were so, why should they let
themselves be thrown into prison, and even be put to death, rather
than stay away from their churches? As for me, I know nothing about
it. They say monsieur is a Huguenot, and if he were good enough to
take me into his service, of course I should be a Huguenot."
"That is a poor reason, Pierre," Philip said smiling. "Still, you
may find better reasons, in time. However, you are not a Catholic,
which is the principal thing, at present.
"Well, I will try you, I think. Perhaps, as you say, you have never
had a fair chance yet, and I will give you one. I believe what you
say, that you will be faithful."
The young fellow's face lit up with pleasure.
"I will be faithful, sir. If I were otherwise, I should deserve to
be cut in pieces."
"As for wages," Philip said, "I will pay you what you deserve. We
will settle that when we see how we get on together. Now follow me,
and I will get some suitable clothes for you."
There was no difficulty about this. Clothes were not made to fit
closely in those days, and Philip soon procured a couple of suits
suitable for the serving man of a gentleman of condition. One was a
riding suit; with high boots, doublet, and trunks of sober colour
and of a strong tough material; a leather sword belt and sword; and
a low hat thickly lined and quilted, and capable of resisting a
heavy blow. The other suit was for wear in the house. It was of
dark green cloth of a much finer texture than the riding suit; with
cloth stockings of the same colour, coming up above the knee, and
then meeting the trunks or puffed breeches. A small cap with turned
up brim, furnished with a few of the tail feathers of a black cock,
completed the costume; a dagger being worn in the belt instead of
the sword. Four woollen shirts, a pair of shoes, and a cloak were
added to the purchases; which were placed in a valise, to be
carried behind the saddle.
"Is there any house where you can change your clothes, Pierre? Of
course you could do so at Monsieur Bertram's, but some of the men I
brought with me will be there, and it would be just as well that
they did not see you in your present attire."
"I can change at the stables, sir, if you will trust me with the
clothes."
"Certainly, I will trust you. If I trust you sufficiently to take
you as my servant, I can surely trust you in a matter like this. Do
you know of anyone who has a stout nag for sale?"
Pierre knew of several and, giving Philip an address, the latter
was not long in purchasing one, with saddle and bridle complete. He
ordered this to be sent, at once, to the stables where Pierre had
been employed, with directions that it was to be handed over to his
servant.
It was one o'clock in the day when Madame Vaillant embarked, and it
was late in the afternoon before Philip returned to Monsieur
Bertram's house.
"What have you done about that vagabond Pierre?"
"I have hired him," Philip said.
"You don't say that you have taken him, after what I have told you
about him!" the merchant exclaimed.
"I have, indeed. He pleaded hard for a trial, and I am going to
give him one. I believe that he will turn out a useful fellow. I am
sure that he is shrewd, and he ought to be full of expedients. As
to his appearance, good food and decent clothes will make him
another man. I think he will turn out a merry fellow, when he is
well fed and happy; and I must say, Maitre Bertram, that I am not
fond of long faces. Lastly, I believe that he will be faithful."
"Well, well, well, I wash my hands of it altogether, Monsieur
Philip. I am sorry I spoke to you about him, but I never for a
moment thought you would take him. If harm comes of it, don't blame
me."
"I will hold you fully acquitted," Philip laughed. "I own that I
have taken quite a fancy to him, and believe that he will turn out
well."
An hour later one of the domestics came in, with word that Monsieur
Philip's servant was below, and wished to know if he had any
commands for him.
"Tell him to come up," Philip said, and a minute later Pierre
entered.
He was dressed in his dark green costume. He had had his hair cut,
and presented an appearance so changed that Philip would hardly
have known him.
"By my faith!" the merchant said, "you have indeed transformed him.
He is not a bad-looking varlet, now that he has got rid of that
tangled crop of hair."
Pierre bowed low at the compliment.
"Fine feathers make fine birds, Monsieur Bertram," replied Pierre.
"It is the first time I have had the opportunity of proving the
truth of the proverb. I am greatly indebted to monsieur, for
recommending me to my master."
"It is not much recommendation you got from me, Pierre," the
merchant said bluntly; "for a more troublesome young scamp I never
had in my warehouse. Still, as I told Monsieur Philip, I think
everything has been against you; and I do hope, now that this
English gentleman has given you a chance, that you will take
advantage of it."
"I mean to, sir," the young fellow said earnestly, and without a
trace of the mocking smile with which he had first spoken. "If I do
not give my master satisfaction, it will not be for want of trying.
I shall make mistakes at first--it will all be strange to me, but I
feel sure that he will make allowances. I can at least promise that
he will find me faithful and devoted."
"Has your horse arrived, Pierre?"
"Yes, sir. I saw him watered and fed before I came out. Is it your
wish that I should go round to the stables where your horse and
those of your troop are, and take charge of your horse at once?"
"No, Pierre; the men will look after him, as usual. We will start
at six in the morning. Be at the door, on horseback, at that hour."
Pierre bowed and withdrew.
"I do not feel so sure as I did that you have made a bad bargain,
Monsieur Philip. As far as appearances go, at any rate, he would
pass muster. Except that his cheeks want filling out a bit, he is a
nimble, active-looking young fellow; and with that little moustache
of his, and his hair cut short, he is by no means ill looking. I
really should not have known him. I think at present he means what
he says, though whether he will stick to it is another matter,
altogether."
"I think he will stick to it," Philip said quietly. "Putting aside
what he says about being faithful to me, he is shrewd enough to see
that it is a better chance than he is ever likely to have, again,
of making a start in life. He has been leading a dog's life, ever
since he was a child; and to be well fed, and well clothed, and
fairly treated will be a wonderful change for him.
"My only fear is that he may get into some scrape at the chateau. I
believe that he is naturally full of fun, and fun is a thing that
the Huguenots, with all their virtues, hardly appreciate."
"A good thrashing will tame him of that," the merchant said.
Philip laughed.
"I don't think I shall be driven to try that. I don't say that
servants are never thrashed in England, but I have not been brought
up among the class who beat their servants. I think I shall be able
to manage him without that. If I can't, we must part.
"I suppose there is no doubt, Monsieur Bertram, how La Rochelle
will go when the troubles begin?"
"I think not. All preparations are made on our part and, as soon as
the news comes that Conde and the Admiral have thrown their flags
to the wind, we shall seize the gates, turn out all who oppose us,
and declare for the cause. I do not think it can be much longer
delayed. I sent a trusty servant yesterday to fetch back my
daughter; who, as I told you, has been staying with a sister of
mine, five or six leagues away. I want to have her here before the
troubles break out. It will be no time for damsels to be wandering
about the country, when swords are once out of their scabbards."
The next morning the little troop started early from La Rochelle,
Pierre riding gravely behind Philip. The latter presently called
him up to his side.
"I suppose you know the country round here well?"
"Every foot of it. I don't think that there is a pond in which I
have not laid my lines, not a streamlet of which I do not know
every pool, not a wood that I have not slept in, nor a hedge where
I have not laid snares for rabbits. I could find my way about as
well by night as by day; and you know, sir, that may be of use, if
you ever want to send a message into the town when the Guises have
got their troops lying outside."
Philip looked sharply at him.
"Oh, you think it likely that the Guises will soon be besieging La
Rochelle?"
"Anyone who keeps his ears open can learn that," Pierre said
quietly. "I haven't troubled myself about these matters. It made no
difference to me whether the Huguenots or the Catholics were in the
saddle; still, one doesn't keep one's ears closed, and people talk
freely enough before me.
"'Pierre does not concern himself with these things. The lad is
half a fool; he pays no attention to what is being said.'
"So they would go on talking, and I would go on rubbing down a
horse, or eating my black bread with a bit of cheese or an onion,
or whatever I might be about, and looking as if I did not even know
they were there. But I gathered that the Catholics think that the
Guises, and Queen Catherine, and Philip of Spain, and the Pope are
going to put an end to the Huguenots altogether. From those on the
other side, I learned that the Huguenots will take the first step
in La Rochelle, and that one fine morning the Catholics are likely
to find themselves bundled out of it. Then it doesn't need much
sense to see that, ere long, we shall be having a Catholic army
down here to retake the place; that is, if the Huguenot lords are
not strong enough to stop them on their way."
"And you think the Catholics are not on their guard at all?"
"Not they," Pierre said contemptuously. "They have been
strengthening the walls and building fresh ones, thinking that an
attack might come from without from the Huguenots; and all the time
the people of that religion in the town have been laughing in their
sleeves, and pretending to protest against being obliged to help at
the new works, but really paying and working willingly. Why, they
even let the magistrates arrest and throw into prison a number of
their party, without saying a word, so that the priests and the
commissioners should think they have got it entirely their own way.
It has been fun watching it all, and I had made up my mind to take
to the woods again, directly it began. I had no part in the play,
and did not wish to run any risk of getting a ball through my head;
whether from a Catholic or a Huguenot arquebus.
"Now, of course, it is all different. Monsieur is a Huguenot, and
therefore so am I. It is the Catholic bullets that will be shot at
me and, as no one likes to be shot at, I shall soon hate the
Catholics cordially, and shall be ready to do them any ill turn
that you may desire."
"And you think that if necessary, Pierre, you could carry a message
into the town, even though the Catholics were camped round it."
Pierre nodded.
"I have never seen a siege, master, and don't know how close the
soldiers might stand round a town; but I think that if a rabbit
could get through I could and, if I could not get in by land, I
could manage somehow to get in by water."
"But such matters as this do not come within your service, Pierre.
Your duties are to wait on me when not in the field, to stand
behind my chair at meals, and to see that my horses are well
attended to by the stable varlets. When we take the field you will
not be wanted to fight, but will look after my things; will buy
food and cook it, get dry clothes ready for me to put on if I come
back soaked with rain, and keep an eye upon my horses. Two of the
men-at-arms will have special charge of them. They will groom and
feed them. But if they are away with me, they cannot see after
getting forage for them; and it will be for you to get hold of
that, either by buying it from the villagers or employing a man to
cut it. At any rate, to see that there is food for them, as well as
for me, when the day's work is over."
"I understand that, master; but there are times when a lad who can
look like a fool, but is not altogether one, can carry messages and
make himself very useful, if he does not place over much value on
his life. When you want anything done, no matter what it is, you
have only to tell me, and it will be done, if it is possible."
In the afternoon of the second day after starting, they approached
the chateau. The old sergeant of the band who, with two of his men,
was riding a hundred yards ahead, checked his horse and rode back
to Philip.
"There is something of importance doing, Monsieur Philip. The flag
is flying over the chateau. I have not seen it hoisted before since
my lord's death, and I can make out horsemen galloping to and from
the gates."
"We will gallop on then," Philip said, and in ten minutes they
arrived.
Francois ran down the steps as Philip alighted in the courtyard.
"I am glad you have come, Philip. I had already given orders for a
horseman to ride to meet you, and tell you to hurry on. The die is
cast, at last. There was a meeting yesterday at the Admiral's. A
messenger came to my mother from my cousin, Francois de la Noue.
The Admiral and Conde had received news, from a friend at court,
that there had been a secret meeting of the Royal Council; and that
it had been settled that the Prince should be thrown into prison,
and Coligny executed. The Swiss troops were to be divided between
Paris, Orleans, and Poitiers. The edict of toleration was to be
annulled, and instant steps taken to suppress Huguenot worship by
the sternest measures.
"In spite of this news the Admiral still urged patience; but his
brother, D'Andelot, took the lead among the party of action; and
pointed out that if they waited until they, the leaders, were all
dragged away to prison, resistance by the Huguenots would be
hopeless. Since the last war over three thousand Huguenots had been
put to violent deaths. Was this number to be added to indefinitely?
Were they to wait until their wives and children were in the hands
of the executioners, before they moved? His party were in the
majority, and the Admiral reluctantly yielded.
"Then there was a discussion as to the steps to be taken. Some
proposed the seizure of Orleans and other large towns; and that,
with these in their hands, they should negotiate with the court for
the dismissal of the Swiss troops; as neither toleration nor peace
could be hoped for, as long as this force was at the disposal of
the Cardinal of Lorraine and his brothers.
"This council, however, was overruled. It was pointed out that, at
the beginning of the last war, the Huguenots held fully a hundred
towns, but nearly all were wrested from their hands before its
termination. It was finally resolved that all shall be prepared for
striking a heavy blow, and that the rising shall be arranged to
take place, throughout France, on the 29th of September. That an
army shall take the field, disperse the Swiss, seize if possible
the Cardinal of Lorraine; and at any rate petition the king for a
redress of grievances, for a removal of the Cardinal from his
councils, and for sending all foreign troops out of the kingdom.
"We have, you see, a fortnight to prepare. We have just sent out
messengers to all our Huguenot friends, warning them that the day
is fixed, that their preparations are to be made quietly, and that
we will notify them when the hour arrives. All are exhorted to
maintain an absolute silence upon the subject, while seeing that
their tenants and retainers are, in all respects, ready to take the
field."
"Why have you hoisted your flag, Francois? That will only excite
attention."
"It is my birthday, Philip, and the flag is supposed to be raised
in my honour. This will serve as an excuse for the assemblage of
our friends, and the gathering of the tenants. It has been
arranged, as you know, that I, and of course you, are to ride with
De la Noue, who is a most gallant gentleman; and that our
contingent is to form part of his command.
"I am heartily glad this long suspense is over, and that at last we
are going to meet the treachery of the court by force. Too long
have we remained passive, while thousands of our friends have, in
defiance of the edicts, been dragged to prison and put to death.
Fortunately the court is, as it was before the last war, besotted
with the belief that we are absolutely powerless; and we have every
hope of taking them by surprise."
"I also am glad that war has been determined upon," Philip said.
"Since I have arrived here, I have heard nothing but tales of
persecution and cruelty. I quite agree with you that the time has
come when the Huguenots must either fight for their rights; abandon
the country altogether and go into exile, as so many have already
done; or renounce their religion."
"I see you have a new servant, Philip. He is an active,
likely-looking lad, but rather young. He can know nothing of
campaigning."
"I believe he is a very handy fellow, with plenty of sense and
shrewdness; and if he can do the work, I would rather have a man of
that age than an older one. It is different with you. You are
Francois, Count de Laville; and your servant, whatever his age,
would hold you in respect. I am younger and of far less
consequence, and an old servant might want to take me under his
tuition. Moreover, if there is hard work to be done for me, I would
rather have a young fellow like this doing it than an older man."
"You are always making out that you are a boy, Philip. You don't
look it, and you are going to play a man's part."
"I mean to play it as far as I can, Francois; but that does not
really make me a day older."
"Well, mind, not a word to a soul as to the day fixed on."
For the next fortnight the scene at the chateau was a busy one.
Huguenot gentlemen came and went. The fifty men-at-arms who were to
accompany Francois were inspected, and their arms and armour served
out to them. The tenantry came up in small parties, and were also
provided with weapons, offensive and defensive, from the armoury;
so that they might be in readiness to assemble for the defence of
the chateau, at the shortest notice. All were kept in ignorance as
to what was really going on; but it was felt that a crisis was
approaching, and there was an expression of grim satisfaction on
the stern faces of the men, that showed they rejoiced at the
prospect of a termination to the long passive suffering, which they
had borne at the hands of the persecutors of their faith. Hitherto
they themselves had suffered but little, for the Huguenots were
strong in the south of Poitou; while in Niort--the nearest town to
the chateau--the Huguenots, if not in an absolute majority, were
far too strong to be molested by the opposite party. Nevertheless
here, and in all other towns, public worship was suspended; and it
was only in the chateaux and castles of the nobles that the
Huguenots could gather to worship without fear of interruption or
outrage.
There was considerable debate as to whether Francois' troop should
march to join the Admiral, at Chatillon-sur-Loing; or should
proceed to the southeast, where parties were nearly equally
balanced; but the former course was decided upon. The march itself
would be more perilous; but as Conde, the Admiral, and his brother
D'Andelot would be with the force gathered there, it was the most
important point; and moreover Francois de la Noue would be there.
So well was the secret of the intended movement kept that the
French court, which was at Meaux, had no idea of the danger that
threatened; and when a report of the intentions of the Huguenots
came from the Netherlands, it was received with incredulity. A spy
was, however, sent to Chatillon to report upon what the Admiral was
doing; and he returned with the news that he was at home, and was
busily occupied in superintending his vintage.
On the evening of the 26th the troop, fifty strong, mustered in the
courtyard of the chateau. All were armed with breast and back
pieces, and steel caps, and carried lances as well as swords. In
addition to this troop were Philip's four men-at-arms; and four
picked men who were to form Francois' bodyguard, one of them
carrying his banner. He took as his body servant a man who had
served his father in that capacity. He and Pierre wore lighter
armour than the others, and carried no lances.
Francois and Philip were both in complete armour; Philip donning,
for the first time, that given to him by his uncle. Neither of them
carried lances, but were armed with swords, light battle-axes, and
pistols.
Before mounting, service was held. The pastor offered up prayers
for the blessing of God upon their arms, and for his protection
over each and all of them in the field. The countess herself made
them a stirring address, exhorting them to remember that they
fought for the right to worship God unmolested, and for the lives
of those dear to them. Then she tenderly embraced her son and
Philip, the trumpets sounded to horse, and the party rode out from
the gates of the chateau.
As soon as they were away, the two young leaders took off their
helmets and handed them to their attendants, who rode behind them.
Next to these came their eight bodyguards, who were followed by the
captain and his troop.
"It may be that this armour will be useful, on the day of battle,"
Philip said; "but at present it seems to me, Francois, that I would
much rather be without it."
"I quite agree with you, Philip. If we had only to fight with
gentlemen armed with swords, I would gladly go into battle
unprotected; but against men with lances, one needs a defence.
However, I do not care so much, now that I have got rid of the
helmet; which, in truth, is a heavy burden."
"Methinks, Francois, that armour will ere long be abandoned, now
that arquebuses and cannon are coming more and more into use.
Against them they give no protection; and it were better, methinks,
to have lightness and freedom of action, than to have the trouble
of wearing all this iron stuff merely as a protection against
lances. You have been trained to wear armour, and therefore feel
less inconvenience; but I have never had as much as a breast plate
on before, and I feel at present as if I had almost lost the use of
my arms. I think that, at any rate, I shall speedily get rid of
these arm pieces. The body armour I don't so much mind, now that I
am fairly in the saddle.
"The leg pieces are not as bad as those on the arms. I was scarcely
able to walk in them; still, now that I am mounted, I do not feel
them much. But if I am to be of any use in a melee, I must have my
arms free, and trust to my sword to protect them."
"I believe that some have already given them up, Philip; and if you
have your sleeves well wadded and quilted, I think you might, if
you like, give up the armour. The men-at-arms are not so protected,
and it is only when you meet a noble, in full armour, that you
would be at a disadvantage."
"I don't think it would be a disadvantage; for I could strike
twice, with my arms free, to once with them so confined."
"There is one thing, you will soon become accustomed to the
armour."
"Not very soon, I fancy, Francois. You know, you have been
practising in it almost since you were a child; and yet you admit
that you feel a great difference. Still, I daresay as the novelty
wears off I shall get accustomed to it, to some extent."