While Coligny had been accomplishing his wonderful march round
France, La Noue, who had been exchanged for Strozzi, had betaken
himself to La Rochelle. He forced the Catholics, who were still
languidly blockading that place, to fall back; defeated them near
Lucon, and recaptured Fontenay, Niort, the Isle of Oleron, Brouage,
and Saintes. At Fontenay, however, the brave Huguenot leader had
his left arm broken, and was obliged to have it amputated.
Negotiations were now being carried on in earnest. Charles the
Ninth was weary of a war that impoverished the state, diminished
his revenues, and forced him to rely upon the Guises, whom he
feared and disliked. Over and over again, he had been assured that
the war was practically at an end, and the Huguenots crushed; but
as often, fresh armies rose. The cities that had been taken with so
much difficulty had again fallen into their hands, and Paris itself
was menaced.
The princes of Germany wrote, begging him to make peace; and
although the terms fell far short of what the Huguenots hoped and
desired, the concessions were large and, could they have depended
upon the good faith of the court, their lives would have at least
been tolerable. A complete amnesty was granted, and a royal command
issued that the Protestants were to be exposed to neither insults
nor recriminations, and were to be at liberty to profess their
faith openly.
Freedom of worship was, however, restricted within very small
proportions. The nobles of high rank were permitted to name a
place, belonging to them, where religious services could be
performed. As long as they or their families were present, these
services could be attended by all persons in their jurisdiction.
Other nobles were allowed to have services, but only for their
families and friends, not exceeding twelve in number. Twenty-four
towns were named, two in each of the principal provinces, in which
Protestant services were allowed; the privilege being extended to
all the towns of which the Huguenots had possession, at the
signature of the truce.
All property, honours, and offices were restored, and judicial
decisions against their holders annulled. The four towns, La
Rochelle, Montauban, Cognac, and La Charite were, for two years, to
remain in the hands of the Huguenots, to serve as places of refuge.
The edict, in which the king promulgated the terms of peace, stated
the conditions to be perpetual and irrevocable.
The Huguenots had the more hope that the peace would be preserved,
since Montmorency, who was an opponent of the Guises, and had done
his best to bring about peace, was high in favour with the king;
and indeed, held the chief power in France.
There can be little doubt that, at the time, the king was in
earnest. He ordered the parliament of Paris to annul a declaration
they had made, declaring the Cardinal Chatillon, the Admiral's
brother, deprived of his bishopric; and as it hesitated, he ordered
its president to bring the records to him, and with his own hand
tore out the pages upon which the proceedings were entered.
The priests, throughout France, threw every obstacle in the way of
the recognition of the edict; and in several places there were
popular disturbances, and wholesale massacres. Paris, as usual, set
the example of turbulence and bigotry.
As soon as the peace was concluded, Philip prepared to return for a
while to England. In the three years which had elapsed since he
left home, he had greatly changed. He had been a lad of sixteen
when he landed in France. He was now a tall, powerful young fellow.
Although still scarcely beyond the age of boyhood, he had acquired
the bearing and manners of a man. He stood high in the confidence
of Coligny, and the other Huguenot leaders; was a special favourite
with the young Prince of Navarre, and his cousin Conde; and had
received the honour of knighthood, at the hands of one of the
greatest captains of his age.
"You had better stay, Philip," his cousin urged. "You may be sure
that this peace will be as hollow as those which preceded it. There
will never be a lasting one until we have taken Paris, and taught
the bloodthirsty mob there that it is not only women and children
who profess the reformed religion, but men who have swords in their
hands and can use them."
"If the troubles break out again, I shall hasten back, Francois;
indeed, I think that in any case I shall return for a while, ere
long. I do not see what I could do at home. My good uncle Gaspard
has been purchasing land for me, but I am too young to play the
country gentleman."
"Nonsense, Philip. There have been plenty of young nobles in our
ranks who, if your seniors in years, look no older than you do, and
are greatly your inferiors in strength. They are feudal lords on
their estates, and none deem them too young."
"Because they have always been feudal nobles, Francois. I go back
to a place where I was, but three years ago, a boy at school. My
comrades there are scarcely grown out of boyhood. It will seem to
them ridiculous that I should return Sir Philip Fletcher; and were
I to set up as a country squire, they would laugh in my face. Until
I am at least of age, I should not dream of this; and five-and-twenty
would indeed be quite time for me to settle down there.
"Here it is altogether different. I was introduced as your cousin,
and as a son of one of noble French family; and to our friends here
it is no more remarkable that I should ride behind Coligny, and
talk with the princes of Navarre and Conde, than that you should do
so. But at home it would be different; and I am sure that my father
and mother, my uncle and aunt will agree with me that it is best I
should not settle down, yet. Therefore I propose, in any case, to
return soon.
"I agree with you there will be troubles again here, before long.
If not, there is likely enough to be war with Spain, for they say
Philip is furious at toleration having been granted to the
Huguenots; and in that case there will be opportunities for us, and
it will be much pleasanter fighting against Spaniards than against
Frenchmen.
"If there are neither fresh troubles here, nor war with Spain, I
shall go and join the Dutch in their struggle against the
Spaniards. Prince Louis of Nassau told me that he would willingly
have me to ride behind him; and the Prince of Orange, to whom the
Admiral presented me, also spoke very kindly. They, like you, are
fighting for the reformed faith and freedom of worship and, cruel
as are the persecutions you have suffered in France, they are as
nothing to the wholesale massacres by Alva."
"In that case, Philip, I will not try to detain you; but at any
rate, wait a few months before you take service in Holland, and pay
us another visit before you decide upon doing so."
Philip journeyed quietly across the north of France, and took
passage to Dover for himself and his horses. Pierre accompanied
him, taking it so greatly to heart, when he spoke of leaving him,
behind that Philip consented to keep him; feeling, indeed, greatly
loath to part from one who had, for three years, served him so
well. The two men-at-arms were transferred to Francois' troop, both
being promised that, if Philip rode to the wars again in France,
they and their comrades now at Laville should accompany him.
From Dover Philip rode to Canterbury. He saw in the streets he
passed through many faces he knew, among them some of his former
schoolfellows; and he wondered to himself that these were so little
changed, while he was so altered that none recognized, in the
handsomely dressed young cavalier, the lad they had known; although
several stopped to look at, and remark on, the splendid horses
ridden by the gentleman and his attendant.
He drew rein in front of Gaspard Vaillant's large establishment
and, dismounting, gave his reins to Pierre and entered. He passed
straight through the shop into the merchant's counting house.
[Illustration: Gaspard Vaillant gets a surprise.]
Gaspard looked up in surprise, at the entry of a gentleman
unannounced; looked hard at his visitor, and then uttered his name
and, rushing forward, embraced him warmly.
"I can hardly believe it is you," he exclaimed, holding Philip at
arm's length and gazing up in his face. "Why, you have grown a
veritable giant; and as fine a man as your father was, when I first
knew him; and you have returned Sir Philip, too. I don't know that
I was ever so pleased as when you sent me the news. I gave a
holiday to all the workmen, and we had a great fete.
"But of course, you cannot stop now. You will be wanting to go up
to your father and mother. Run upstairs and embrace Marie. We will
not keep you at present, but in an hour we will be up with you."
In a minute or two Philip ran down again.
"Pardieu, but you are well mounted, Philip," the merchant said, as
he sprang into the saddle. "These are the two horses, I suppose,
you told us about in your letters.
"And is this Pierre, who saved your life when you were captured at
Agen?"
"And a good many other times, uncle, by always managing to get hold
of a fat pullet when we were pretty near starving. I was always
afraid that, sooner or later, I should lose him; and that I should
find him, some morning or other, dangling from a tree to which the
provost marshal had strung him up."
"Then I shall see you in an hour."
And Philip galloped off to the farm.
The delight of Philip's parents, as he rode up to the house, was
great indeed. Philip saw, before he had been at home an hour, that
they were animated by somewhat different feelings. His mother was
full of gratitude, at his preservation through many dangers; and
was glad that he had been able to do some service to her persecuted
co-religionists--the fact that he had won great personal credit,
and had received the honour of knighthood at the hands of Coligny
himself, weighed as nothing in her eyes. It was otherwise with his
father. He was very proud that his boy had turned out a worthy
descendant of the fighting Kentish stock; and that he had shown, in
half-a-dozen fights against heavy odds, a courage as staunch as
that which his forefathers had exhibited at Cressy, Poitiers, and
Agincourt.
"Good blood tells, my boy," he said; "and you must have shown them
a rare sample of what an Englishman can do, before they knighted
you. I would rather you had won it in an English battle, but all
admit that there is no more capable chief in Europe than the
Huguenot Admiral. Certainly there are no English commanders of fame
or repute to compare with him; though if we ever get to blows with
the Spanish, we shall soon find men, I warrant me, who will match
the best of them.
"There was a deal of talk in Canterbury, I can tell you, when the
news came home; and many refugees who came through the town
declared that they had heard your name among those of the nobles
who rode with the Admiral, and the brave La Noue. Indeed, there are
two families settled here who fled from Niort, and these have told
how you and your cousin saved them from the Catholics.
"I warrant you they have told the tale often enough since they have
come here; and it has made quite a stir in Canterbury, and there is
not a week passes without some of your old school friends, who used
to come up here with you, running up to ask the last news of you,
and to hear your letters read; and it has been a pleasure to me to
read them, lad, and to see how they opened their eyes when they
heard that the Queen of Navarre and her son had given you presents,
and that you often rode with the young prince, and his cousin
Conde.
"You have changed, Philip, mightily; not in your face, for I see
but little alteration there, but in your manner and air. The boys
did not seem to understand how you, whom they looked on as one of
themselves, could be riding to battle with nobles and talking with
princes; but I think they will understand better, when they see
you. You look almost too fine for such simple people as we are,
Philip; though I do not say your clothes are not of sombre hues, as
might be expected from one fighting in the Huguenot ranks."
"I am sure, father," Philip laughed, "there is nothing fine about
me. I have gained knighthood, it is true; but a poorer knight never
sat in saddle, seeing that I have neither a square yard of land nor
a penny piece of my own, owing everything to the kindness of my
good uncle, and yourself."
"I must go out tomorrow morning, Philip, and look at those horses
of yours. They must be rare beasts, from what you say of them."
"That are they, father. Methinks I like the one I bought at
Rochelle even better than that which the Queen of Navarre bestowed
upon me; but I grieved sorely over the death of Victor, the horse
Francois gave me. I was riding him at the fight of Moncontour, and
he was shot through the head with a ball from a German arquebus."
Pierre had, as soon as they arrived, been welcomed and made much of
by Philip's mother; and was speedily seated in the post of honour
in the kitchen, where he astonished the French servants with tales
of his master's adventures, with many surprising additions which
had but slight basis of fact.
Gaspard Vaillant and his wife thought that Philip's parents would
like to have him, for a time, to themselves; and did not come up
for two or three hours after he had arrived.
"You will admit, John, that my plan has acted rarely," the merchant
said, when he was seated; "and that, as I prophesied, it has made a
man of him. What would he have been, if he had stayed here?"
"He would, I hope, brother Gaspard," Lucie said gravely, "have been
what he is now--a gentleman."
"No doubt, Lucie. He promised as much as that, before he went; but
he is more than that now. He has been the companion of nobles, and
has held his own with them; and if he should go to court, now, he
would do honour to your family and his, though he rubbed shoulders
with the best of them.
"And now, what are you thinking of doing next, Philip? You will
hardly care to settle down among us here, after such a life as you
have led for the last three years."
Philip repeated the views he had expressed to Francois de Laville,
and his plans were warmly approved by his uncle and father; though
his mother folded her hands, and shook her head sadly.
"The lad is right, Lucie," the merchant said.
"He is lord now of the Holford estates--for the deeds are completed
and signed, Philip, making them over to you. But I agree heartily
with your feeling that you are too young, yet, to assume their
mastership. I have a good steward there looking after things,
seeing that all goes well, and that the house is kept in order. But
it is best, as you say, that a few years should pass before you go
to reside there. We need not settle, for a time, whether you shall
return to France, or go to see service with those sturdy Dutchmen
against the Spaniards. But I should say that it is best you should
go where you have already made a name, and gained many friends.
"There is no saying, yet, how matters will go there. Charles is but
a puppet in the hands of Catherine de Medici; and with the pope,
and Philip of Spain, and the Guises always pushing her on, she will
in time persuade the king, who at present earnestly wishes for
peace, to take fresh measures against the Huguenots. She is never
happy unless she is scheming, and you will see she will not be long
before she begins to make trouble, again."
The news spread quickly through Canterbury that Philip Fletcher had
returned, and the next day many of his old friends came up to see
him. At first they were a little awed by the change that had come
over him, and one or two of them even addressed him as Sir Philip.
But the shout of laughter, with which he received this well-meant
respect, showed them that he was their old schoolfellow still; and
soon set them at their ease with him.
"We didn't think, Philip," one of them said, "when you used to take
the lead in our fights with the boys of the town, that you would be
so soon fighting in earnest, in France; and that in three years you
would have gained knighthood."
"I did not think so myself, Archer. You used to call me Frenchie,
you know; but I did not think, at the time, that I was likely ever
to see France. I should like to have had my old band behind me, in
some of the fights we had there. I warrant you would have given as
hard knocks as you got, and would have held your own there, as well
as you did many a time in the fights in the Cloisters.
"Let us go and lie down under the shade of that tree, there. It
used to be our favourite bank, you know, in hot weather; and you
shall ask as many questions as you like, and I will answer as best
I can."
"And be sure, Philip, to bring all your friends in to supper," John
Fletcher said. "I warrant your mother will find plenty for them to
eat. She never used to have any difficulty about that, in the old
times; and I don't suppose their appetites are sharper, now, than
they were then."
Philip spent six months at home. A few days after his return many
of the country gentry, who had not known John Fletcher, called on
Philip, as one who had achieved a reputation that did honour to the
county--for every detail of the Huguenot struggle had been closely
followed, in England; and more than one report had been brought
over, by emigres, of the bravery of a young Englishman who was held
in marked consideration by Admiral Coligny, and had won a name for
himself, even among the nobles and gentlemen who rode with that
dashing officer De La Noue, whose fame was second only to that of
the Admiral. Walsingham, the English ambassador at Paris, had heard
of him from La Noue himself, when he was a prisoner there; and
mentioned him in one of his despatches, saying that it was this
gentleman who had been chosen, by Coligny, to carry important
despatches both to the Queen of Navarre and the Duc de Deux-Ponts,
and had succeeded admirably in both these perilous missions; and
that he had received knighthood, at the hands of the Admiral, for
the valour with which he had covered the retreat at the battle of
Jarnac.
Philip was, at first, disposed to meet these advances coldly.
"They have not recognized you or my mother, father, as being of
their own rank."
"Nor have we been, Philip. I am but a petty landowner, while it is
already known that you are the owner of a considerable estate; and
have gained consideration and credit, and as a knight have right to
precedence over many of them. If you had intended to settle in
France, you could do as you like as to accepting their courtesies;
but as it is, it is as well that you should make the acquaintance
of those with whom you will naturally associate, when you take up
your residence on the estate your uncle has bought for you.
"Had your mother and I a grievance against them, it might be
different; but we have none. We Fletchers have been yeomen here for
many generations. In our own rank, we esteem ourselves as good as
the best; but we never thought of pushing ourselves out of our own
station, and in the ordinary course of things you would have lived
and died as your fathers have done. The change has come about,
first through my marrying a French wife of noble blood, though with
but a small share of this world's goods; secondly through her
sister's husband making a large fortune in trade, and adopting you
as his heir; and thirdly, through your going out to your mother's
relations, and distinguishing yourself in the war. Thus you stand
in an altogether different position to that which I held.
"You are a man with an estate. You are noble, on your mother's
side. You are a knight, and have gained the approval of great
captains and princes. Therefore it is only meet and right that you
should take your place among the gentry; and it would be not only
churlish to refuse to accept their civilities now, but altogether
in opposition to the course which your uncle planned for you."
Philip therefore accepted the civilities offered to him, and was
invited to entertainments at many of the great houses in that part
of the county; where, indeed, he was made a good deal of--his fine
figure, the ease and courtesy of his bearing, and the reputation he
had gained for bravery, rendering him a general favourite.
At the end of six months he received a letter from his cousin,
urging him to return.
"Spring has now begun, Philip. At present things are going on
quietly, and the king seems determined that the peace shall be
kept. The Constable Montmorency is still very high in favour, and
the Guises are sulking on their estates. The Huguenot nobles are
all well received at court, where they go in numbers, to pay their
respect to the king and to assure him of their devotion. I have
been there with my mother, and the king was mightily civil, and
congratulated me on having been knighted by Coligny. We were
present at his majesty's marriage with the daughter of the Emperor
of Germany. The show was a very fine one, and everything pleasant.
"There is a report that, in order to put an end to all further
troubles, and to bind both parties in friendship, the king has
proposed a marriage between his sister Marguerite and Henry of
Navarre. We all trust that it will take place, for it will indeed
be a grand thing for us of the reformed faith.
"It is rumoured that Queen Jeanne is by no means eager for the
match, fearing that Henry, once at Paris, will abandon the simple
customs in which he has been brought up; and may even be led away,
by the influence of Marguerite and the court, to abandon his faith.
Her first fear, I think, is likely enough to be realized; for it
seems to me that he has been brought up somewhat too strictly, and
being, I am sure, naturally fond of pleasure, he is likely enough
to share in the gaieties of the court of Paris. As to her other
fear, I cannot think there is foundation for it. Henry is certainly
ambitious and very politic, and he has talked often and freely with
me, when we have been alone together. He has spoken, once or twice,
of his chances of succeeding to the throne of France. They are not
great, seeing that three lives stand between it and him and, now
that the king has married, they are more remote than before. Still
there is the chance; and he once said to me:
"'One thing seems to me to be certain, Francois: supposing Charles
of Valois and his two brothers died without leaving heirs, France
would not accept a Huguenot king. There would be the Guises, and
the priests, and the papacy, and Spain all thrown in the scale
against him.'
"'That is likely enough, prince,' I said; 'and methinks your lot
would be preferable, as King of Navarre, to that of King of France.
However, happily there is no reason for supposing that the king and
his two brothers will die without heirs.'
"He did not speak for some time, but sat there thinking. You know
the way he has. Methinks, Philip, that when he comes to man's
estate, and is King of Navarre, the Guises will find in him a very
different opponent to deal with than the leaders of the Huguenots
have been so far.
"The Admiral is so honest and loyal and truthful, himself, that he
is ill fitted to match the subtlety of the queen mother, or the
deceit and falsehood of the Guises. The Queen of Navarre is a
heroine and a saint but, although a wise woman, she is no match for
intriguers. Conde was a gallant soldier, but he hated politics.
"Henry of Navarre will be an opponent of another sort. When I first
knew him, I thought him the frankest and simplest of young princes;
and that is what most think him, still. But I am sure he is much
more than that. Having been about his person for months, and being
the youngest of his companions--most of whom were stern, earnest
Huguenot nobles--he was a great deal with me, and talked with me as
he did not with the others. It seems to me that he has two
characters: the one what he seems to be--light hearted, merry,
straightforward, and outspoken; the other thoughtful, astute,
ambitious, and politic, studying men closely, and adapting himself
to their moods.
"I don't pretend to understand him at all--he is altogether beyond
me; but I am sure he will be a great leader, some day. I think you
would understand him better than I should, and I know he thinks so,
too. Of course, you had your own duties all through the campaign,
and saw but little of him; but more than once he said:
"'I wish I had your English cousin with me. I like you much,
Laville; but your cousin is more like myself, and I should learn
much of him. You are brave and merry and good-tempered, and so is
he; but he has a longer head than you have,'--which I know is quite
true--'you would be quite content to spend your life at court,
Francois; where you would make a good figure, and would take things
as they come. He would not. If he did not like things he would
intrigue, he would look below the surface, he would join a party,
he would be capable of waiting, biding his time. I am only
seventeen, Francois; but it is of all things the most important for
a prince to learn to read men, and to study their characters, and I
am getting on.
"'Your cousin is not ambitious. He would never conspire for his own
advantage, but he would be an invaluable minister and adviser, to a
prince in difficulties. The Admiral meant well, but he was wrong in
refusing to let me have Philip Fletcher. When I am my own master I
will have him, if I can catch him; but I do not suppose that I
shall, because of that very fault of not being ambitious. He has
made his own plans, and is bent, as he told me, on returning to
England; and nothing that I can offer him will, I am sure, alter
his determination. But it is a pity, a great pity.'
"By all this you see, Philip, that those who think the Prince of
Navarre merely a merry, careless young fellow, who is likely to
rule his little kingdom in patriarchal fashion; and to trouble
himself with nothing outside, so long as his subjects are contented
and allowed to worship in their own way, are likely to find
themselves sorely mistaken. However, if you come over soon, you
will be able to judge for yourself.
"The Queen of Navarre saw a great deal of the countess, my mother,
when they were at La Rochelle together; and has invited her to pay
her a visit at Bearn, and the prince has requested me to accompany
her. Of course if you come over you will go with us, and will be
sure of a hearty welcome from Henry. We shall have some good
hunting, and there is no court grandeur, and certainly no more
state than we have at our chateau. In fact, my good mother is a
much more important personage, there, than is Jeanne of Navarre at
Bearn."
This letter hastened Philip's departure. The prospect of hunting in
the mountains of Navarre was a pleasant one. He liked the young
prince; and had, in the short time he had been his companion,
perceived that there was much more in him than appeared on the
surface; and that, beside his frank bonhomie manner, there was a
fund of shrewdness and common sense. Moreover, without being
ambitious, it is pleasant for a young man to know that one, who may
some day be a great prince, has conceived a good opinion of him.
He took Francois' letter down to his uncle Gaspard, and read
portions of it to him. Gaspard sat thoughtful, for some time, after
he had finished.
"It is new to me," he said at last. "I believed the general report
that Henry of Navarre was a frank, careless young fellow, fond of
the chase, and, like his mother, averse to all court ceremony;
likely enough to make a good soldier, but without ambition, and
without marked talent. If what Francois says is true--and it seems
that you are inclined to agree with him--it may make a great
difference in the future of France. The misfortune of the
Huguenots, hitherto, has been that they have been ready to fall
into any trap that the court of France might set for them and, on
the strength of a few hollow promises, to throw away all the
advantages they had gained by their efforts and courage, in spite
of their experience that those promises were always broken, as soon
as they laid down their arms.
"In such an unequal contest they must always be worsted and, honest
and straightforward themselves, they are no match for men who have
neither truth nor conscience. If they had but a leader as politic
and astute as the queen mother and the Guises, they might possibly
gain their ends. If Henry of Navarre turns out a wise and politic
prince, ready to match his foes with their own weapons, he may win
for the Huguenots what they will never gain with their own swords.
"But mind you, they will hardly thank him for it. My wife and your
mother would be horrified were I to say that, as a Catholic, Henry
of Navarre would be able to do vastly more, to heal the long open
sore and to secure freedom of worship for the Huguenots, than he
ever could do as a Huguenot. Indeed, I quite agree with what he
says, that as a Huguenot he can never hold the throne of France."
Philip uttered an exclamation of indignation.
"You cannot think, uncle, that he will ever change his religion?"
"I know nothing about him, beyond what you and your cousin say,
Philip. There are Huguenots, and Huguenots. There are men who would
die at the stake, rather than give up one iota of their faith.
There are men who think that the Reformed faith is better and purer
than the Catholic, but who nevertheless would be willing to make
considerable concessions, in the interest of peace. You must
remember that, when princes and princesses marry, they generally
embrace the faith of their husbands; and when, lately, Queen
Elizabeth was talking of marrying the Prince of Anjou, she made it
one of the conditions that he should turn Protestant, and the
demand was not considered to be insurmountable. It may be that the
time will come when Henry of Navarre may consider the throne of
France, freedom of worship, and a general peace, cheaply purchased
at the cost of attending mass. If he does so, doubtless the
Huguenots would be grieved and indignant; but so far as they are
concerned, it would be the best thing. But of course, we are only
talking now of what he might do, should nought but his religion
stand between him and the throne of France. As King of Navarre,
simply, his interest would be all the other way, and he would
doubtless remain a staunch Huguenot.
"Of course, Philip, I am speaking without knowing this young
prince. I am simply arguing as to what an astute and politic man,
in his position, not over earnest as to matters of faith, would be
likely to do."
Three days later, Philip rode to London with Pierre and embarked
for La Rochelle. His uncle had amply supplied him with funds, but
his father insisted upon his taking a handsome sum from him.
"Although you did not require much money before, Philip--and
Gaspard told me that you did not draw, from his agent at La
Rochelle, a third of the sum he had placed for you in his hands--it
will be different now. You had no expenses before, save the pay of
your men, and the cost of their food and your own; but in time of
peace there are many expenses, and I would not that you should be,
in any way, short of money. You can place the greater portion of it
in the hands of Maitre Bertram, and draw it as you require. At any
rate, it is better in your hands than lying in that chest in the
corner. Your mother and I have no need for it, and it would take
away half her pleasure in her work, were the earnings not used
partly for your advantage."
The ship made a quick run to La Rochelle, and the next morning
Philip rode for Laville. He had not been there since the battle of
Moncontour; and although he knew that it had been burnt by the
Royalists, shortly afterwards, it gave him a shock to see, as he
rode through the gate, how great a change had taken place. The
central portion had been repaired, but the walls were still
blackened with smoke. The wings stood empty and roofless, and the
ample stables, storehouses, and buildings for the retainers had
disappeared.
His aunt received him with great kindness, and Francois was
delighted to see him again.
"Yes, it is a change, Philip," the countess said, as she saw his
eyes glancing round the apartment. "However, I have grown
accustomed to it, and scarce notice it now. Fortunately I have
ample means for rebuilding the chateau, for I have led a quiet life
for some years; and as the count my husband, being a Huguenot, was
not near the court from the time the troubles began, our revenues
have for a long time been accumulating; and much of it has been
sent to my sister's husband, and has been invested by him in
England. There Francois agrees with me that it should remain.
"There is at present peace here, but who can say how long it will
last? One thing is certain, that should war break out again, it
will centre round La Rochelle; and I might be once more forced to
leave the chateau at the mercy of the Royalists. It would, then, be
folly to spend a crown upon doing more than is sufficient for our
necessities. We only keep such retainers as are absolutely
necessary for our service. There are but eight horses in the
stables, the rest are all out on the farms and, should the troubles
recommence, we shall soon find riders for them."
"You have just arrived in time, Philip," Francois said presently,
"for we start at the end of this week for Bearn and, although you
could have followed us, I am right glad that you have arrived in
time to ride with us. All your men are still here."
"I saw Eustace and Henri, as I rode in," Philip said.
"The other two work in the garden. Of course, their days for
fighting are over. They could doubtless strike a blow in defence of
the chateau, but they have not recovered sufficiently from their
wounds ever to ride as men-at-arms again. However, two will suffice
for your needs, at present.
"I shall take four of my own men, for the country is still far from
safe for travelling. Many of the disbanded soldiers have turned
robbers and, although the royal governors hunt down and string up
many, they are still so numerous that travellers from one town to
another always journey in strong parties, for protection.
"How did Pierre get on, in England?"
"He was glad to return here again, Francois; although he got on
well enough, as our house servants are French, as are also many of
those on the farm, and he became quite a favourite with every one.
But he is of a restless nature, and grew tired of idleness."
Three days later, the party set out from Laville. The countess rode
on horseback, and her female attendant en croupe behind one of the
troopers. They journeyed by easy stages, stopping sometimes at
hostelries in the towns, but more often at chateaux belonging to
gentlemen known to the countess or her son. They several times came
upon groups of rough-looking men; but the two gentlemen, their
servants, and the six fully-armed retainers were a force too
formidable to be meddled with, and they arrived safely at Bearn.
The royal abode was a modest building, far less stately than was
Laville, before its ruin. It stood a short distance out of the
town, where they had left the men-at-arms, with instructions to
find lodgings for themselves and their horses. As they arrived at
the entrance, Prince Henri himself ran down the steps, in a dress
as plain as that which would be worn by an ordinary citizen.
"Welcome to Bearn," he said. "It is a modest palace, countess; and
I am a much less important person, here, than when I was supposed
to be commanding our army."
He assisted her to alight, and then rang a bell. A man came round
from the back of the house, and took the horse from Pierre, who was
holding it; while Henri entered the house with the countess. A
minute later, he ran out from the house again.
"Now that I have handed over the countess to my mother, I can speak
to you both," he said heartily. "I am pleased to see you, Francois,
and you too, Monsieur Philip."
"My cousin insisted on my coming with him, prince, and assured me
that you would not be displeased at the liberty. But of course, I
intend to quarter myself in the town."
"You will do no such thing," the prince said. "We are poor in
Bearn, as poor as church mice; but not so poor that we cannot
entertain a friend. Your bedroom is prepared for you."
Philip looked surprised.
"You don't suppose," the prince said, laughing, "that people can
come and go, in this kingdom of ours, without being noticed. We are
weak, and for that very reason we must be on our guard. Half the
people who come here come for a purpose. They come from the king,
or from Philip of Spain, or from the Guises, and most of them mean
mischief of some sort. So you see, we like to know beforehand and,
unless they ride very fast, we are sure to get twenty-four hours'
notice before they arrive.
"Then, you see, if we want a little more time, a horse may cast its
shoe, or some of the baggage may be missing, or perhaps an
important paper somehow gets mislaid. It is curious how often these
things happen. Then, when they arrive here they find that I have,
as usual, gone off for a fortnight's hunting among the mountains;
and that, perhaps, my mother has started for Nerac.
"We heard yesterday morning that you had crossed the frontier, and
that the countess had with her her son, and a big young Englishman,
whose identity I had no difficulty in guessing."
"And we met with no misfortunes by the way, prince," Francois said,
smiling.
"No," the prince laughed, "these things do not happen always."
They had so far stood on the steps, chatting. The two servants had
followed the lackey, with their own and their masters' horses. The
prince led the way indoors, and they were heartily welcomed by the
queen, who kept no more state at Bearn than would be observed by
any petty nobleman in France.
On the following day, the two friends started with the prince for
the mountains; and were away for three weeks, during which time
they hunted the wild boar, killed several wolves, and shot five or
six wild goats. They were attended only by two or three huntsmen,
and their three personal servants. They slept sometimes in the huts
of shepherds, or charcoal burners; sometimes in the forest, in
spite of the cold, which was often severe.
"What do you say about this marriage which is being arranged for
me?" the prince asked suddenly, one night, as they were sitting by
a huge fire in the forest.
"It ought to be a great thing for the Reformed religion, if it is
agreeable to your highness," Francois said cautiously.
"A politic answer, Monsieur de Laville.
"What say you, Philip?"
"It is a matter too deep for me to venture an opinion," Philip
said. "There is doubtless much to be said, on both sides. For
example--you are a fisherman, prince?"
"Only moderately so, Philip; but what has that to do with it?"
"I would say, sir, that when a fisherman hooks an exceedingly large
fish, it is just possible that, instead of landing it, the fish may
pull him into the water."
The prince laughed.
"You have hit it exactly, Monsieur Philip. That is just the way I
look at it. Marguerite of Valois is, indeed, a very big fish
compared with the Prince of Bearn; and it is not only she who would
pull, but there are others, and even bigger fish, who would pull
with her. My good mother has fears that, if I once tasted the
gaieties of the court of France, I should be ruined, body and soul.
"Now I have rather an inclination for the said gaieties, and that
prospect does not terrify me as it does her. But there are things
which alarm me, more than gaieties. There is the king who, except
when he occasionally gets into a rage, and takes his own course, is
but a tool in the hands of Catharine de Medici. There is Anjou, who
made a jest of the dead body of my uncle Conde. There are Lorraine
and the Guises, there are the priests, and there is the turbulent
mob of Paris. It seems to me that, instead of being the fisherman,
I should be like a very small fish, enclosed in a very strong net."
And he looked thoughtfully into the fire.
"The king is, at present, with us; but his plighted word is worth
nothing."
"But once married," Francois said, "you would have the princess on
your side, and being then brother-in-law to the king, you would be
safe from attack."
"The king has no great love for his own brothers," Henri said; "but
I am not supposing that even Charles would lay hands on me, after
inviting me to his court to marry his sister. He would not venture
upon that, before the eyes of all Europe. It is the strain and the
pressure that I fear. A girl who is sent to a nunnery, however much
she may hate becoming a nun, can no more escape than a fly from the
meshes of a spider. I doubt not that it seems, to all the Huguenots
of France, that for me to marry Marguerite of Valois would be more
than a great victory won for their cause; but I have my doubts.
However, in a matter like this I am not a free agent.
"The Huguenot lords are all delighted at the prospect. My mother is
still undecided. You see, I am practically as much in a net, here,
as I shall be at Paris, if this marriage is made. I am rather glad
the decision does not rest with me. I shall simply go with the
stream; some day, perhaps, I shall be strong enough to swim against
it. I hope that, at any rate, if I ride to Paris to marry
Marguerite of Valois, you will both accompany me."