After walking two or three miles Malcolm and Ronald came upon the rear of
a train of waggons which had set out from Paris an hour earlier. Entering
into conversation with one of the drivers they found that the convoy was
bound for the frontier with ammunition and supplies for the army.
"This is fortunate," Malcolm said; "for to tell you the truth, Ronald, I
have looked forward to our meeting with a good many difficulties by the
way. We have no passes or permits to travel, and should be suspected of
being either deserters or thieves. We came down from the north easy
enough; but there they are more accustomed to the passage of travellers
to or from the coast. Going east our appearance if alone would be sure to
incite comment and suspicion. It is hard if among the soldiers with the
convoy I do not know someone who has friends in the old regiment. At any
rate we can offer to make ourselves useful in case of any of the drivers
falling ill or deserting by the way."
As they walked along towards the head of the long line of waggons Malcolm
closely scrutinized the troopers who formed the escort, but most of them
were young soldiers, and he therefore went on without accosting them
until he reached the head of the column. Here two officers were riding
together, a captain and a young lieutenant. Malcolm saluted the former.
"I am an old soldier of the 2d Regiment of Scottish Calvary, and am going
with my young friend here, who has relations in the regiment, to join
them. Will you permit us, sir, to journey with your convoy? We are ready,
if needs be, to make ourselves useful in case any of your drivers are
missing, no uncommon thing, as I know, on a long journey."
The officer asked a few questions about his services, and said: "What
have you been doing since you left, as you say, fourteen years ago?"
"I have been in Scotland, sir. I took this lad, who was then an infant,
home to my people, having had enough of soldiering, while my brother, his
father, remained with the regiment. We do not know whether he is alive or
dead, but if the former the lad wants to join as a trumpeter, and when
old enough to fight in the ranks."
"Very well," the officer said. "You can march along with us, and if any
of these fellows desert you shall take their places, and of course draw
their pay."
It was a short time indeed before Malcolm's services were called into
requisition, for the very first night several of the drivers, who had
been pressed into the service, managed to elude the vigilance of the
guard and slipped away.
The next morning Malcolm, with Ronald as his assistant, took charge of
one of the heavy waggons, loaded with ammunition, and drawn by twelve
horses.
"This is better than walking after all, Ronald. In the first place it
saves the legs, and in the second one is partly out of the dust."
"But I think we should get on faster walking, Malcolm."
"Yes, if we had no stoppages. But then, you see, as we have no papers we
might be detained for weeks by some pig headed official in a little
country town; besides, we are sure to push on as fast as we can, for they
will want the ammunition before a battle is fought. And after all a few
days won't make much difference to us; the weather is fine, and the
journey will not be unpleasant."
In fact Ronald enjoyed the next three weeks greatly as the train of
waggons made its way across the plains of Champagne, and then on through
the valleys of Lorraine and Alsace until it reached Strasbourg. Malcolm
had speedily made friends with some of the soldiers of the escort, and of
an evening when the day's work was over he and Ronald sat with them by
the fires they made by the roadside, and Malcolm told tales of the
campaigns in which he had been engaged, and the soldiers sang songs and
chatted over the probabilities of the events of the war. None of them had
served before, having been but a few months taken from their homes in
various parts of France. But although, doubtless, many had at first
regretted bitterly being dragged away to the wars, they were now all
reconciled to their lot, and looked forward eagerly to joining their
regiment, which was at the front, when the duty of looking after the
convoy would be at an end.
Little was known in Paris as to the position of the contending armies
beyond the fact that Lord Stair, who commanded the English army, sixteen
thousand strong, which had for the last year been lying inactive in
Flanders, had marched down with his Hanoverian allies towards the Maine,
and that the Duc de Noailles with sixty thousand men was lying beyond the
Rhine. But at Strasbourg they learned that the French army had marched
north to give battle to Lord Stair, who had at present with him but
twenty-eight thousand men, and was waiting to be joined by twelve
thousand Hanoverians and Hessians who were on their way.
The convoy continued its journey, pushing forward with all speed, and on
the 26th of July joined the army of De Noailles. The French were on the
south side of the river, but having arrived on its banks before the
English they had possession of the bridges. As soon as the waggons had
joined the army, Malcolm obtained from the officer commanding the escort
a discharge, saying that he and Ronald had fulfilled their engagement as
drivers with the waggons to the front, and were now at liberty to return
to France.
"Now we are our own masters again, Ronald," Malcolm said. "I have taken
part in a good many battles, but have never yet had the opportunity of
looking on at one comfortably. De Noailles should lose no time in
attacking, so as to destroy the English before they receive their
reinforcements. As he holds the bridges he can bring on the battle when
he likes, and I think that tomorrow or next day the fight will take
place."
It was known in the camp that evening that the English had established
their chief magazines at Hanau, and were marching up the river towards
Aschaffenburg. In the early morning a portion of the French troops
crossed the river at that town, and took up a strong position there.
Ronald and Malcolm climbed a hill looking down upon the river from the
south side, and thence commanded the view of the ground across which the
English were marching. On the eastern side of the river spurs of the
Spessart Mountains came down close to its bank, inclosing a narrow flat
between Aschaffenburg and Dettingen. At the latter place the heights
approached so closely to the river as to render it difficult for an army
to pass between them. While posting a strong force at Aschaffenburg to
hold the passage across a stream running into the Maine there, De
Noailles marched his main force down the river; these movements were
hidden by the nature of the ground from the English, who were advancing
unconscious of their danger towards Dettingen.
"De Noailles will have them in a trap," Malcolm said, for from their
position on the hill they could see the whole ground on the further bank,
Hanau lying some seven miles beyond Dettingen, which was itself less than
seven miles from Aschaffenburg.
"I am afraid so," Ronald said.
"Afraid!" Malcolm repeated. "Why, you should rejoice, Ronald."
"I can't do that," Ronald replied. "I should like to see the Stuarts
instead of the Hanoverians reigning over us; but after all, Malcolm,
England and Scotland are one nation."
"But there are Scotch regiments with the French army, and a brigade of
Irish."
"That may be," Ronald said. "Scotchmen who have got into political
trouble at home may enter the service of France, and may fight heartily
against the Germans or the Flemings, or other enemies of France; but I
know that I should feel very reluctant to fight against the English army,
except, of course, at home for the Stuarts."
"It will benefit the Stuarts' cause if the English are defeated here,"
Malcolm said.
"That may be or it may not," Ronald replied. "You yourself told me that
Louis cared nothing for the Stuarts, and would only aid them in order to
cripple the English strength at home. Therefore, if he destroys the
English army here he will have less cause to fear England and so less
motive for helping the Chevalier."
"That is true enough," Malcolm agreed. "You are fast becoming a
politician, Ronald. Well, I will look on as a neutral then, because,
although the English are certainly more nearly my countrymen than are the
French, you must remember that for twelve years I fought under the French
flag. However, there can be no doubt what is going to take place. See,
the dark mass of the English army are passing through the defile of
Dettingen, and the French have begun to cross at Seligenstadt in their
rear. See, they are throwing three or four bridges across the river
there."
In utter ignorance of their danger the English marched on along the
narrow plain by the river bank towards Aschaffenburg.
"Look at their cavalry scouting ahead of them," Malcolm said. "There, the
French are opening fire!" And as he spoke puffs of musketry rose up from
the line of the stream held by the French.
The English cavalry galloped back, but the columns of infantry still
advanced until within half a mile of the French position, and were there
halted, while some guns from the French lines opened fire. The bridges at
Seligenstadt were now completed, and masses of troops could be seen
pouring over. King George and the Duke of Cumberland had joined the Earl
of Stair just as the army passed through Dettingen, and were riding at
the head of the column when the French fire opened. A short time was
spent in reconnoitring the position of the enemy in front. The English
believed that the entire French army was there opposed to them, and that
the advance of the army into Franconia, which was its main objective was
therefore barred. After a short consultation it was resolved to fall back
at once upon the magazines at Hanau, which, from their ignorance of the
near proximity of the French, had been left but weakly guarded. Believing
that as they fell back they would be hotly pursued by the French army,
the king took the command of the rear as the post of danger, and the
columns, facing about, marched towards Dettingen.
But the French had been beforehand with them. De Noailles had sent 23,000
men under his nephew the Duke de Grammont across the river to occupy
Dettingen. He himself with his main army remained on the south side, with
his artillery placed so as to fire across the river upon the flank of the
English as they approached Dettingen; while he could march up and cross
at Aschaffenburg should the English, after being beaten back at
Dettingen, try to retreat up the river.
De Grammont's position was a very strong one behind a swamp and a deep
ravine hollowed out by a stream from the hill. There seemed no
possibility of escape for the English army, who were as yet absolutely in
ignorance of the position of the French. As the head of the column
approached Dettingen, Grammont's artillery opened upon them in front,
while that of De Noailles smote them in flank. As soon as the king found
that his retreat was cut off he galloped from the rear of the column to
its head. His horse, alarmed by the fire of the artillery and whistling
of balls, ran away with him, and was with difficulty stopped just as he
reached the head of the column. He at once dismounted and announced his
intention of leading his troops on foot.
There was a hasty council held between him, Lord Stair, and the Duke of
Cumberland, and it was agreed that the only escape from entire
destruction was by fighting their way through the force now in front of
them. This would indeed have been impossible had De Grammont held his
position; but when that officer saw the English troops halt he believed
he had only the advanced guard in front of him, and resolving to
overwhelm these before their main body arrived, he abandoned his strong
position, led the troops across the swamp, and charged the English in
front.
De Noailles, from the opposite bank, seeing the error his nephew had
made, hurried his troops towards the bridges in order to cross the river
and render him assistance; but it was too late.
The English infantry, headed by the king in person, hurled themselves
upon the troops of De Grammont.
Every man felt that the only hope of escape from this trap into which
they had fallen lay in cutting their way through the enemy, and so
furiously did they fight that De Grammont's troops were utterly
overthrown, and were soon in full flight towards the bridges in the rear,
hotly pursued by the English. Before they could reach the bridges they
left behind them on the field six thousand killed and wounded. King
George, satisfied with his success, and knowing that the French army was
still greatly superior to his own, wisely determined to get out of his
dangerous position as soon as possible, and pushed on that night to
Hanau.
Although Malcolm and Ronald were too far off to witness the incidents of
the battle, they made out the tide of war rolling away from them, and saw
the black masses of troops pressing on through Dettingen in spite of the
French artillery which thundered from the opposite bank of the river.
"They have won!" Ronald said, throwing up his cap. "Hurrah, Malcolm!
Where is the utter destruction of the English now? See, the plain beyond
Dettingen is covered by a confused mass of flying men. The English have
broken out of the trap, and instead of being crushed have won a great
victory."
"It looks like it certainly," Malcolm said. "I would not have believed it
if I had not seen it; their destruction seemed certain. And now let us go
round to the camp again."
On their way down Malcolm said:
"I think, on the whole, Ronald, that you are perhaps right, and the
French defeat will do good rather than harm to the Stuart cause. Had they
conquered, Louis would have been too intent on pushing forward his own
schemes to care much for the Stuarts. He has no real interest in them,
and only uses them as cat's paws to injure England. If he had beaten the
English and Hanoverians he would not have needed their aid. As it is, it
seems likely enough that he will try to create a diversion, and keep the
English busy at home by aiding the Stuarts with men and money to make a
landing in Scotland."
"In that case, Malcolm, we need not grieve over the defeat today. You
know my sympathies are with the brave Empress of Austria rather than with
her enemies, and this defeat should go far towards seating her securely
on the throne. Now, what will you do, Malcolm? Shall we try and find my
father's friends at once?"
"Nor for another few days," Malcolm said. "Just after a defeat men are
not in the best mood to discuss bygone matters. Let us wait and see what
is done next."
The next morning a portion of the French army which had not been engaged
crossed the river and collected the French and English wounded, for the
latter had also been left behind. They were treated by the French with
the same care and kindness that was bestowed upon their own wounded. De
Noailles was about to advance against the English at Hanau, when he
received the news that the French army in Bavaria had been beaten back by
Prince Charles, and had crossed the Rhine into Alsace. As he would now be
exposed to the whole brunt of the attack of the allies he decided to
retreat at once.
The next day the retreat recommenced. Many of the drivers had fled at the
first news of the defeat, and Malcolm without question assumed the post
of driver of one of the abandoned teams. For another week the army
retired, and then crossing the Rhine near Worms were safe from pursuit.
"Now, Ronald, I will look up the old regiment, and we will see what is to
be done."
The 2d Scotch Dragoons were posted in a little village a mile distant
from the main camp which had now been formed. Malcolm did nor make any
formal transfer of the waggon to the authorities, thinking it by no means
improbable that they would insist upon his continuing his self adopted
avocation as driver; but after seeing to the horses, which were picketed
with a long line of transport animals, he and Ronald walked quietly away
without any ceremony of adieu.
"We must not come back again here," he said, "for some of the teamsters
would recognize me as having been driving lately, and I should have hard
work to prove that I was not a deserter; we must take to the old regiment
now as long as we are here."
On reaching the village they found the street full of troopers, who were
busy engaged in cleaning their arms, grooming their horses, and removing
all signs of weather and battle. Ronald felt a thrill of pleasure at
hearing his native language spoken. He had now so far improved the
knowledge of French as to be able to converse without difficulty, for
Malcolm had from his childhood tried to keep up his French, and had
lately always spoken in that language to him, unless it was necessary to
speak in English in order to make him understand.
These occasions had become more and more rare, and two months of constant
conversation with Malcolm and others had enabled Ronald by this time to
speak with some fluency in the French tongue. None of the soldiers paid
any attention to the newcomers, whose dress differed in no way from that
of Frenchmen, as after the shipwreck they had, of course, been obliged to
rig themselves out afresh. Malcolm stopped before an old sergeant who was
diligently polishing his sword hilt.
"And how fares it with you all these years, Angus Graeme?"
The sergeant almost dropped his sword in his surprise at being so
addressed in his own tongue by one whose appearance betokened him a
Frenchman.
"You don't know me, Angus," Malcolm went on with a smile; "and yet you
ought to, for if it hadn't been for me the sword of the German hussar who
carved that ugly scar across your cheek would have followed it up by
putting an end to your soldiering altogether."
"Heart alive, but it's Malcolm Anderson! Eh, man, but I am glad to see
you! I thought you were dead years ago, for I have heard nae mair of you
since the day when you disappeared from among us like a spook, the same
day that puir Colonel Leslie was hauled off to the Bastille. A sair day
was that for us a'! And where ha' ye been all the time?"
"Back at home, Angus, at least in body, for my heart's been with the old
regiment. And who, think you, is this? But you must keep a close mouth,
man, for it must nor be talked of. This is Leslie's son. By his father's
last order I took him off to Scotland with me to be out of reach of his
foes, and now I have brought him back again to try if between us we can
gain any news of his father."
"You don't say so, Malcolm! I never as much heard that the colonel had a
son, though there was some talk in the regiment that he had married a
great lady, and that it was for that that he had been hid away in prison.
And this is Leslie's boy! Only to think, now! Well, young sir, there
isn't a man in the regiment but wad do his best for your father's son,
for those who have joined us since, and in truth that's the great part of
us, have heard many a tale of Colonel Leslie, though they may not have
served under him, and not a tale but was to his honour, for a braver
officer nor a kinder one never stepped the earth. But come inside,
Malcolm. I have got a room to myself and a stoup of good wine; let's talk
over things fair and gentle, and when I know what it is that you want you
may be sure that I will do all I can, for the sake baith of the colonel
and of you, auld comrade."
The trio were soon seated in the cottage, and Malcolm then gave a short
sketch of all that had taken place since he had left the regiment.
"Well, well!" the sergeant said when he had ended; "and so the lad, young
as he is, has already drawn his sword for the Stuarts, and takes after
his father in loyalty as well as in looks, for now that I know who he is
I can see his father's face in his plain enough; and now for your plans,
Malcolm."
"Our plans must be left to chance, Angus. We came hither to see whether
any of the colonel's friends are still in the regiment, and to learn from
them whether they have any news whatever of him; and secondly, whether
they can tell us aught of his mother."
"Ay, there are six or eight officers still in the regiment who served
with him. Hume is our colonel now; you will remember him, Malcolm, well,
for he was captain of our troop; and Major Macpherson was a captain too.
Then there are Oliphant, and Munroe, and Campbell, and Graham, all of
whom were young lieutenants in your time, and are now old captains of
troops."
"I will see the colonel and Macpherson," Malcolm said; "if they do not
know, the younger men are not likely to. Will you go along with us,
Angus, and introduce me, though Hume is like enough to remember me,
seeing that I was so much with Leslie?"
"They will be dining in half an hour," the sergeant said; "we'll go after
they have done the meal. It's always a good time to talk with men when
they are full, and the colonel will have no business to disturb him then.
Our own dinner will be ready directly; I can smell a goose that I picked
up, as it might be by accident, at the place where we halted last night.
There are four or five of us old soldiers who always mess together when
we are not on duty with our troops, and if I mistake not, you will know
every one of them, and right glad they will be to see you; but of course
I shall say no word as to who the lad is, save that he is a friend of
yours."
A few minutes later four other sergeants dropped in, and there was a
joyful greeting between them and Malcolm as soon as they recognized his
identity. The meal was a jovial one, as old jokes and old reminiscences
were recalled. After an hour's sitting Angus said:
"Pass round the wine, lads, till we come back again. I am taking Anderson
to the colonel, who was captain of his troop. We are not likely to be
long, and when we come back we will make a night of it in honour of old
times, or I am mistaken."
On leaving the cottage they waited for a while until they saw the colonel
and major rise from beside the fire round which, with the other officers,
they had been taking their meal, and walk to the cottage which they
shared between them. Angus went up and saluted.
"What is it, Graeme?" the colonel asked.
"There's one here who would fain have a talk with you. It is Malcolm
Anderson, whom you may remember as puir Colonel Leslie's servant, and as
being in your own troop, and he has brought one with him concerning whom
he will speak to you himself."
"Of course I remember Anderson," the colonel said. "He was devoted to
Leslie. Bring him in at once. What can have brought him out here again
after so many years? Been getting into some trouble at home, I suppose?
He was always in some scrape or other when he was in the regiment, for,
though he was a good soldier, he was as wild and reckless a blade as any
in the regiment. You remember him, Macpherson?"
"Yes, I remember him well," the major said. "The colonel was very fond of
him, and regarded him almost as a brother."
A minute later Angus ushered Malcolm and Ronald into the presence of the
two officers, who had now taken seats in the room which served as kitchen
and sitting room to the cottage, which was much the largest in the
village.
"Well, Anderson, I am glad to see you again," Colonel Hume said, rising
and holding out his hand. "We have often spoken of you since the day you
disappeared, saying that you were going on a mission for the colonel, and
have wondered what the mission was, and how it was that we never heard of
you again."
"I came over to Paris four years later, colonel, but the regiment was
away in Flanders, and as I found out from others what I had come to
learn, there was no use in my following you. As to the colonel's mission,
it was this;" and he put his hand on Ronald's shoulder.
"What do you mean, Anderson?" the colonel asked in surprise.
"This is Colonel Leslie's son, sir. He bade me fetch him straight away
from the folk with whom he was living and take him off to Scotland so as
to be out of reach of his foes, who would doubtless have made even
shorter work with him than they did with the colonel."
"Good heavens!" the colonel exclaimed; "this is news indeed. So poor
Leslie left a child and this is he! My lad," he said, taking Ronald's
hand, "believe me that anything that I can do for you, whatever it be,
shall be done, for the sake of your dear father, whom I loved as an elder
brother."
"And I too," the major said. "There was not one of us but would have
fought to the death for Leslie. And now sit down, my lad, while Anderson
tells us your story."
Malcolm began at the account of the charge which Colonel Leslie had
committed to him, and the manner in which he had fulfilled it. He told
them how he had placed the child in the care of his brother, he himself
having no fixed home of his own, and how the lad had received a solid
education, while he had seen to his learning the use of his sword, so
that he might be able to follow his father's career. He then told them
the episode of the Jacobite agent, and the escape which had been effected
in the Thames.
"You have done well, Anderson," the colonel said when he had concluded;
"and if ever Leslie should come to see his son he will have cause to
thank you, indeed, for the way in which you have carried out the charge
he committed to you, and he may well be pleased at seeing him grown up
such a manly young fellow. As to Leslie himself, we know not whether he
be alive or dead. Every interest was made at the time to assuage his
majesty's hostility, but the influence of the Marquis of Recambours was
too strong, and the king at last peremptorily forbade Leslie's name being
mentioned before him. You see, although the girl's father was, of course,
at liberty to bestow her hand on whomsoever he pleased, he had, with the
toadyism of a courtier, asked the king's approval of the match with
Chateaurouge, which, as a matter of course, he received. His majesty,
therefore, chose to consider it as a personal offence against himself
that this Scottish soldier of fortune should carry off one of the richest
heiresses of France, whose hand he had himself granted to one of his
peers. At the same rime I cannot but think that Leslie still lives, for
had he been dead we should assuredly have heard of the marriage of his
widow with some one else. The duke has, of course, long since married,
and report says that the pair are ill-matched; but another husband would
speedily have been found for the widow."
"Since the duke has married," Ronald said, "he should no longer be so
bitter against my father, and perhaps after so long an imprisonment the
king might be moved to grant his release."
"As the duke's marriage is an unhappy one, I fear that you cannot count
upon his hostility to your father being in any way lessened, as he would
all the more regret the interference with his former plans."
"Have you any idea where my mother is, sir?"
"None," the colonel said. "But that I might find out for you. I will give
you a letter to the Count de Noyes, who is on intimate terms with the
Archbishop of Paris, who would, no doubt, be able to tell him in which
convent the lady is residing. You must not be too sanguine, my poor boy,
of seeing her, for it is possible that she has already taken the veil.
Indeed, if your father has died, and she has still refused to accept any
suitor whom the marquis may have found for her, you may be sure that she
has been compelled to take the veil, as her estates would then revert to
the nearest kinsman. This may, for aught we know, have happened years
ago, without a word of it being bruited abroad, and the affair only known
to those most concerned. However, we must look at the best side. We shall
be able, doubtless, to learn through the archbishop whether she is still
merely detained in the convent or has taken the veil, and you can then
judge accordingly whether your father is likely to be alive or dead. But
as to your obtaining an interview with your mother, I regard it as
impossible in the one case as the other.
"At any rate it is of the highest importance that it should not be known
that you are in France. If it is proved that your father is dead and your
mother is secluded for life, we must then introduce you to her family,
and try and get them to bring all their influence to bear to have you
acknowledged openly as the legitimate heir of the marquis, and to obtain
for you the succession to at least a portion of his estates--say to
that of those which she brought him as her dowry. In this you may be sure
that I and every Scottish gentleman in the army will give you all the aid
and influence we can bring to bear."
Ronald warmly thanked Colonel Hume for his kindness, and the next day,
having received the letter to the Count de Noyes, set out for Paris with
Malcolm. On his arrival there he lost no time in calling upon the count,
and presenting his letter of introduction.
The count read it through twice without speaking.
"My friend Colonel Hume," he said at last, "tells me that you are the
son, born in lawful wedlock, of Colonel Leslie and Amelie de Recambours.
I am aware of the circumstances of the case, being distantly related to
the lady's family, and will do that which Colonel Hume asks me, namely,
discover the convent in which she is living. But I warn you, young man,
that your position here is a dangerous one, and that were it known that
Colonel Leslie's son is alive and in France, I consider your life would
not be worth a day's purchase. When powerful people are interested in the
removal of anyone not favoured with powerful protection the matter is
easily arranged. There are hundreds of knives in Paris whose use can be
purchased for a few crowns, of if seclusion be deemed better than
removal, a king's favourite can always obtain a lettre-de-cachet, and a
man may linger a lifetime in prison without a soul outside the walls
knowing of his existence there.
"You are an obstacle to the plans of a great noble, and that is in France
a fatal offence. Your wisest course, young man, would be to efface
yourself, to get your friend Colonel Hume to obtain for you a commission
in his regiment, and to forget for ever that you are the son of Colonel
Leslie and Amelie de Recambours. However, in that you will doubtless
choose for yourself; but believe me my advice is good. At any rate I will
do what my friend Colonel Hume asks me, and will obtain for you the name
of the convent where your mother is living. I do not see that you will be
any the better off when you have it, for assuredly you will nor be able
to obtain permission to see her. However, that again is your affair. If
you will give me the address where you are staying in Paris I will write
to you as soon as I obtain the information. Do not be impatient, the
archbishop himself may be in ignorance on the point; but I doubt not,
that to oblige me, he will obtain the information from the right quarter.
A week later, Ronald, on returning one day to Le Soldat Ecossais, found a
note awaiting him. It contained only the words:
"She has not taken the veil; she is at the convent of Our Lady at Tours."
The next morning Ronald and Malcolm set out on their journey to Tours.