 | CHAPTER XVI. The brothers : |  |
16. CHAPTER XVI.
But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we had o'erlooked,
And calmly run on in obedience,
Even to our ocean, to our great King John.”
King John.
The moon was shining coldly, and the stars
twinkling in the firmament, when we got to horse.
In profound silence and in secrecy we mounted;
no trumpet was blown, no leave taken. The troop
of picked men, which had been detailed as my
escort, had marched some hours before; men and
officers ignorant alike of the real purpose for
which they were employed, and of their ultimate
destination. Nothing remained but that I should
join them at St. Denis with my own personal attendants,
and press forward as fast as possible
towards Landrecy; near which place, according to
army, which it was my object to seduce from its
allegiance. At one hour after midnight I therefore
sallied forth, mounted my brave Bayard, and, accompanied
by my constant friend rather than follower,
bearing a white flag, furled for the present
closely to its staff, and leading my second charger,
laden with such baggage as was indispensable to
an officer of standing, rode slowly through the
lines, avoiding, as much as possible, both patrol
and sentry, and travelling by the roughest and
most secret roads. Gradually, as we advanced
beyond the farthest outposts, we quickened our
pace, and, reaching the Seine at about a mile's
distance above the bridge of Besons, were ferried
across it by a trusty servitor of the prince, who
had been stationed there to wait our arrival. The
horses were too well trained to give us any annoyance,
swimming peaceably across the wide river
by the side of the skiff which bore their masters;
but, to my utter astonishment, when we had performed
about two-thirds of the distance from bank
to bank, I discovered a large dark object following
in the wake of the boat. For a moment I mistook
it for a human being; and was on the point of
whispering to Lydford that we were dogged already,
when the moon, shining brightly out from a
her glories, revealed to me the real nature of the
intrusion. It was old Hector; who, discovering,
by that strange instinct which in some points
would seem to be even superior to reason, that he
was forsaken by his master, had crawled along
behind our horses—prudently keeping out of
sight, however—till such time as we had proceeded
too far on our journey to permit of our returning,
even had the matter been of greater import than
the presence or absence of the best hound that ever
opened on a scent.
I cannot say that his pertinacity did not give me
some anxiety; as the expedition on which I was
employed was not likely to be much advanced by
my fourfooted companion. I could not, however,
find it in my heart to speak harshly to the faithful
brute, as he crawled to my feet on landing, and
looked up into my face as though perfectly conscious
that he had transgressed, and deprecating
the punishment which he probably considered due.
A single cheery word, and he leaped almost to my
face with a sharp shrill bark, widely different from
the deep musical baying which was his wonted
tone. After a few minutes' consideration as I rode
along, I did not so much regret that he had followed
me; for as—whatever might be the ostensible
real object was the discovery and rescue of Isabel,
I could not but feel that the old hound's sagacity
might, not improbably, be turned materially
to profit.
At a mile's distance from Genevilliers the highway
passes through a little wood, in the thickest part
of which there is a meeting of four roads, diverging,
as nearly as possible, towards the cardinal points
of the compass. Here it was that my escort had
been desired to meet me, as at a point from
whence we could proceed in almost any given
direction, and the adoption of which could furnish
no clew to the discovery of our subsequent movements;
and here I found them,—the horses picketed
to the trees, the petronels neatly stacked, the
men wrapped in their heavy watch-cloaks, sitting
or lying around a small watchfire which they had
kindled in a grassy nook by the wayside, and a
sentinel walking to and fro with his arquebus shouldered
and the match ready lighted. I was greatly
rejoiced to see by these dispositions that I had
steady and intelligent men to deal with; for, having
purposely omitted to bring with me any officers
of higher rank than corporals and lance-speisades,
or sergeants, as it is now the mode to call them,
lest I should have been compelled to be more
looked for any thing beyond courage and obedience
in my escort.
The sentry challenged as I approached, and
alert was the word; for ere I had time to answer
him a dozen men were on foot, and as many pieces
were thrown forward, with an air of activity that
promised well in case of future need. I was not,
however, by any means anxious to put their skill
as marksmen to the test; but, giving them the
countersign, and commending their celerity, ordered
them to get under arms and to mount as
speedily as possible. The men had not, it seemed,
expected that I should assume the command in
person, and although they were evidently a little
puzzled, they were no less evidently pleased; for
I had, by some means or other, I know not how,
become exceedingly popular with the soldiery;
and the consequence of the surprise was an unusual
degree of alacrity, not only at the first, but
during the whole of our march, which was not
only well conducted, but extraordinarily rapid and
successful. The horses had all been carefully
draughted for the purpose, and were in admirable
wind and condition. I doubt, indeed, whether, for
their limited number, a more perfectly well-appointed
troop could have been brought into action
nothing but their arms and the gold, of which
they were entirely unconscious, secured in the
hollow pommels of their demi-piques—half a dozen
baggage-horses being loaded somewhat ostentatiously,
in order to divert suspicion from other
quarters, with a few spare stand of arms, a small
quantity of ammunition, and an abundant supply
of clothing and provisions.
During the three succeeding days we travelled
onward at a uniform and easy pace, avoiding the
larger towns—as the districts through which we
passed, though not occupied by large forces of
regulars, were known to be disinclined to the royal
cause—and, for the most part, halting for refreshment,
and even bivouacking for the night, in unfrequented
places—forest glades, or solitary commons,
far from any human habitation.
On the fourth morning, when in the neighbourhood
of St. Quentin, we found frequent evidences
of the recent passage of an army, in deserted
hamlets, cottages, and, in one or two instances,
even defensible chateaux reduced to ashes, cattle
and horses lying dead by the wayside, and, more
than all, by the state of the roads themselves,
rutted and rendered almost impassable by the motion,
as I instantly perceived, of heavy ordnance.
his violent exertions to effect an
escape, I learned that the archduke had crossed
the country on the preceding week in the direction
of Rheims; near which place the man conjectured
he must at this time be posted, unless he had already
advanced upon the capital. The Spanish
soldiery, he said, had committed the most out-rageous
cruelties on the unoffending peasantry
wherever they passed; and I judged, from his
manner, that the effect of this had been to bring
the party of the Fronde into some disrepute in
these districts. I learned, moreover, that a party,
about equal to my own in numbers, though far
superior in bravery and show—which I concluded
to be that of De Chateaufort—had passed by the
same route two days before. Finding that I could
gain no further information from the man, who
was both terrified and stupid, I dismissed him with
a small present, and an assurance that the object of
my mission was to take instant order with the Spaniards,
and to protect the country effectually from
foreign invaders and from domestic enemies. The
same evening we fell in with the outposts of Turenne's
army, which had marched nearly twenty
miles from Landrecy in the direction of the capital,
and was now encamped for the night near the
would have it, the picket to which I sent my trumpet
consisted of a party of Switzers attached to
the division of D'Erlach, who was captain of the
watch for the night, and to whom I was accordingly
passed in with my men, after a short examination
by the subaltern in command. This gave
me an opportunity of delivering a secret despatch
to him, even before my introduction to the marechal;
and, although he hastily thrust it unread into
the bosom of his doublet, I saw plainly that he
understood and was prepared to act upon its contents.
No words, however, passed between us,
nor indeed was there at that moment any opportunity;
for my men being placed under strict surveillance,
and the baggage-horses having been
rigorously examined, I was at once conducted to
the pavilion of Turenne. It was already dark
when I reached his quarters, but the encampment
was brilliantly illuminated, and the men seemed to
be in a restless and uneasy mood. There was no
gaming, no carousing, and—though a forced march
had been made that day—no sleeping. The Switzers,
I observed especially, were conversing together
earnestly in small knots of ten or twelve,
with knit brows and stern murmuring voices;
while the yet more numerous troops of Weimar
imaginary wrong. I had not much time wherein
to observe all this; for D'Erlach, clearly to save
appearances, hurried me swiftly and almost rudely
forward; openly avowing his opinion, that I was
no flag, but an accursed spy!
A council of war was in session when we
reached the general's tent, as I could easily hear
through the canvass-walls; for D'Erlach, though
he cautioned the two sentinels who accompanied
me to look well to the prisoner, placed me as if inadvertently
within earshot, while he entered to
announce my arrival.
“March—march!” The words were uttered in
an impatient tone, which I at once conceived to be
that of Turenne. “It is easy enough, methinks, to
urge me thus; but why, in the name of God, why
do they withhold the means? Bouillon knows well
enough my situation; knows that I have not
wherewithal to pay these fellows at the rate of
two sous Parisis: and he continues urging me
as though naught but the will were wanting! I
tell you, sir, that I have neither money, food, nor
clothing for my men; and the knaves crying
`Gelt! gelt!' in their high Dutch, whenever I go
the rounds, or show my face to my own regiments!
them so.”
“Under your favour, no,” was the reply; and
the voice was that of Chateaufort. “My orders
are most special on that head from Monsieur
D'Elbœuf and the Prince de Conti. I must to
Valenciennes to the Duke of Lorraine. I am
the bearer to him, likewise, of a most pressing
requisition—”
“To march, doubtless!” Turenne interrupted
him shortly.
“Also, I have some private matters of my own
which call me thither,” continued the other, as if
unconscious of the maréchal's brusquerie!
“To the foul fiend with your own matters!”
cried Turenne again, almost fiercely; “what
reck I of them! Ha! D'Erlach—what, is it you,
man? speak! Aught from thy Switzers? How
act the men of Weimar?”
I did not catch the words of D'Erlach, for he
spoke low; but I easily conjectured their import
from the answer.
“A messenger from Mazarin! A spy!—ha!—
like enough—like enough—admit him notwithstanding.
And you, Monsieur de Chateaufort, you
may withdraw; best that this spy, if so he be, of
Mazarin, know not of your arrival!”
I was immediately ushered into the tent, wherein
were assembled nearly a dozen officers of rank;
among whom I instantly recognised the Comte
D'Harcourt, by the quick glances interchanged between
him and my conductor. Turenne was the
plainest, but at the same time the noblest, looking
man of the group; for though by no means handsome,
he was admirably well-proportioned; and
there was an air of native worth and inflexible integrity
in his features, that to my eye was a thousand
times more attractive than lineaments, which
might have afforded a model to the chisel of
Praxiteles.
He was evidently suspicious of my object; but
he nevertheless treated me with all due courtesy.
He read the letters of Mazarin and Condé with a
supercilious smile; and handing them to the other
members of the council, observed, quietly, that they
were too direct to merit credence from such a
minister. “Nor,” he continued, “do they in truth
require an answer; though I shall furnish you
with such at daybreak, when you will quit our
camp at once. It may be, sir, that you have no
such motives as we must impute to all the agents
of the cardinal; if so, you will pardon us, or rather
you will know how to impute our conduct to the
rules of war! You must consider yourself, sir, as
you in his quarters; and will save me the
regret, and you the inconvenience, we should feel,
were I compelled to place you under ward! You
will be ready to depart at daybreak!”
“You are correct in all things, maréchal,” I answered;
“nor am I so young a soldier as to question
your prerogative to act as you propose; though
with regard to his eminence the cardinal—”
“He, sir, is your employer, and we are his opponents;
and therefore further words—I pray you
pardon my abruptness—further words can answer
no good end. I wish you pleasant dreams!”
He bowed haughtily as he spoke; and though
I could have wished for a longer space, seeing that
it was hopeless, I obeyed his signal and withdrew!
D'Erlach took me by the arm, as we left the
pavilion, and conducted me in perfect silence to
his quarters! “Send Winkelbach to me forthwith,”
he said to the sentinel on guard, as we
entered the rude tent which formed his temporary
residence; “we will speak more anon,” he continued,
looking intelligently towards me. Then, as
his stout Swiss lieutenant entered, clad in half-armour,
with a spontoon in his hand, as an officer
on duty—“Winkelbach,” he said, “we would be
the watch, and let them challenge loudly
whosoever may approach—loudly! You comprehend
me? And whisper to the Comte D'Harcourt,
as he retires for the night, that I would
speak with him. And till he come, sir, we can
confer together. I have found time to look
through that epistle, and have found in it good
store of promises—promises only. Now, I will
not deny that our men mislike this service; that
they might be wrought to action, I well believe;
but of this be certain, without the gold they will
not stir a foot's length in the matter. Now, sir,
we must come to the point sooner or later; if you
have brought the gold, we can and will effect this
thing, short as is now the time; if not, your plans
are naught!”
“Colonel D'Erlach,” was my reply—“such is, I
believe, your rank—I have the means. Let me
but have your written pledge to action, and I will
discover them. I bear also—with the power to
produce and use them, if the army can be won—
a promise of a maréchal's bâton for the Comte
D'Harcourt, and a major-general's commission for
Colonel D'Erlach!”
“You are too prudent, sir—too prudent altogether;
but here comes D'Harcourt.”
The conversation was retailed to the new
comer; and, after a brief consultation, each gave
me his signature to papers committing them completely
with Turenne, if they should strive to
play me false, and I delivered the commissions,
duly signed by the hand of Louis himself, which
had been concealed in the barrels of my pistols.
D'Harcourt was apprized of the situation of the
gold, and went out himself to superintend its present
distribution. In about an hour's space he returned.
“All works,” he cried, with a smile of exultation,
“as we would wish it! The officers have, to a
man, come in to the conspiracy; the privates are
half-gained already. I have promised to them
present payment of all claims due to them by
Turenne, and a future bounty of one livre Parisis
per man, if they shall assume the royal colours at
the dawn. A present largesse I have distributed
throughout the ranks in wine and eau de vie; and
that, an I am not deceived, will close the matter.
For you—go forth at daybreak as though to quit
the lines. 'Tis like, when they shall see the royal
standard hoisted, you will be straight arrested;
resist the officers who shall attempt to seize you,
and we will be near you!”
“Hold!” I interrupted him—“hold, sir. I fear
St. George!—I fear it shrewdly. We shall have
wild doings, an we look not the sharper. Having
gone thus far, it will not do to sleep on it; trust me,
a counsel, once known to so many, can by no
means continue unsuspected; the news must reach
Turenne, and we shall be seized privately and in
detail. Hark to that distant tumult: 'fore God!
they are at it even now!”
As I spoke I seized my weapons, grasped the
pistols, which I had re-loaded after delivering the
papers they had contained, and brought the hilt
of my rapier forward, to be ready to my hand in
time of need.
“Hark ye!” I cried, “messires; there may be
treachery in this! Now, mark me—alive will I
not be taken, to die the death of a dog upon the
gibbet; and, further, I never miss my aim! Now
should I see the slightest sign—I say not of treason,
but of doubt or wavering—I will not threaten;
but—you see that I have arms!—Nay, gentlemen,
reply not. In times of strict emergency men may
not dally to cull forth holyday-phrases. Take up
your weapons; go with me to the men; at once I
will address them—and leave the rest to fortune!”
“Not so quick, gentlemen—not so quick,” a
stern voice broke in upon us from the entry of the
drawn in his hand, and followed by six or seven
gentlemen, whom I knew for personal friends of
the maréchal. To these, in lack of other trusty
agents, he had assigned the duty of arresting us.
“Monsieur de Mornington,” he continued, with an
exulting sneer, “you are a spy—a villain!—flags
protect not such! Gentlemen, close up! D'Erlach
and D'Harcourt—your swords! Resistance is in
vain! The charge is treason!”
“Villain in your teeth!” I shouted. “Liar and
slave!—thrice have you 'scaped me—but, by God
and by St. George, you cross me not again!”
And I lunged with my drawn rapier full at his
breast. It was well for him that he wore beneath
his doublet a segrette of twisted mail; for, despite
a weak and ill-directed parry, my thrust took full
effect; and so great was its violence, that, although
unwounded, he fell headlong to the earth, as one
thunder-stricken—I thought him slain. Three or
four blows were made at me by his comrades, but
I eluded them by a swift spring to the side; and,
striking the canvass wall of the tent with the point
of my sword, I split it from the ceiling to the earth,
rushed through the opening, and shouted at top of
my powerful voice—“France! France for the king
and Mazarin!”
In a moment I heard the cry repeated by the
lips of Lydford; and then from the whole of my
little troop—cheerily it rang and high—“France!
France for Mazarin!”
While the echoes were yet lingering in the air,
D'Erlach stood beside me; and D'Harcourt, following
slowly, held in check the pursuers with his
single blade! They were both true! The former
raised his bugle to his mouth, and wound a long,
sharp blast.
“Unterwald!” he shouted, “Unterwald and Uri
for the king and Mazarin!”
The effect was like the application of a linstock
to the ordnance, that was before but a dark and
silent tube, useless, and void of terror! With a
wild yell, the Switzers rushed to their arms—
torches were waved aloft—the brandished partisans
flashed in the ruddy glare—the discordant
horns of the wild mountaineers blended their notes
with the tumult! Muskets were discharged, startling
the echoes of many a midnight hill; and ever
and anon the war-cry pealed—“France! France
and Switzerland for Mazarin!”
Our success was perfect; of twelve thousand
who were encamped around us, there were not as
many hundreds faithful to the Fronde, or even wavering
in their allegiance. The blow had been
its impression; and the result was a total and
bloodless victory!
For a moment, indeed, I feared that the fierce
passions of the men, stimulated almost to phrensy
by the added excitement of liquor, would have
defied control. There was a rush to the quarters
of Turenne, accompanied by oaths and execrations,
blended with the wildest threats of vengeance!
Torches had been hurled to and fro, and half a
dozen tents were already in a light blaze; but the
officers opposed themselves undauntedly to the
torrent—striking at the mutineers with the shafts
of their halberts, and menacing them with the
broad blades. D'Erlach, well seconded by his huge
lieutenant, hurried through the ranks, exhorting—
threatening—and screaming at the soldiers in his
Teutonic jargon. D'Harcourt brought up his steadier
and more phlegmatic men of Weimar, and,
throwing them between the Switzers and the burning
tents, extinguished the flames briefly and effectually.
Still I saw, at a glance, that D'Erlach had
but partially succeeded, and I ran forward, forgetful
for the moment of De Chateaufort—dead or
alive I scarce knew whether—to lend him my assistance.
At the very moment when we had
brought the fellows to reason, and convinced them
ardour, a distant shout arose from the pavilion of
the maréchal, followed by a dozen pistol-shots, and
the quick clash of steel!
“D'Erlach,” I shouted, “cut down, or shoot the
dog who quits the ranks—I go to save Turenne!”
And I darted rapidly forward, followed by old
Lydford, and a dozen of my troopers, who had resumed
their arms on the first outbreaking of the
mutiny, and had since done good service in seconding
their officers. Not a man of the Switzers
moved; their wonted discipline was restored; and
the violence, into which their passions had so suddenly
been stimulated, subsided, almost as rapidly
as it had commenced, into their usual grave and
self-restrained demeanour.
It was but a moment ere I reached the tent of
the maréchal, yet was I scarce in time; another
second, and the career of the great captain had
been ended in a base broil, and the fair escutcheon
of my fathers had received a blot, that not the
blood of ten pitched battles conquered could have
erased.
Turenne, with the gentlemen who had fled to him
after their vain attempt at our arrest, had stood to
his arms, and fought with the resolution of a man
who well knew that he must die or conquer.
of death, beneath their feet, while hitherto their
skill or fortune had preserved them from injury.
It was not possible, however, that such could be the
case much longer. A dozen Alsatian arquebusiers
were in the very act of blowing their matches for
the purpose of giving them a volley—which must
have proved fatal—when I rushed before them with
my little party, and beat up their levelled pieces.
One, bolder than the rest, drew his trigger, but it
was in vain—for with the whole force of my arm I
struck him in the face with my steel-plated gauntlet;
the blood gushed from eyes, ears, and mouth;
he fell stunned and senseless to the earth; and the
bullet whizzed harmlessly over the head of the gallant
gentleman for whom it was intended. Another
of the mutineers I seized by the collar, and whirling
him forcibly around, flung him into the hands of a
couple of my troopers, bidding them be answerable
for him with their lives, as I destined him for the gibbet
on the morrow, as a mutineer and an assassin.
“Finish your work, sir!” said Turenne, when he
recognised me, speaking as calmly as though he
were issuing orders to his own followers—“finish
your noble work! it is begun bravely; and murder
will well execute what treason has so admirably
planned.”
“I regret, though I cannot remove, your misconceptions
of me,” I replied, compelling myself to be
cool and unmoved, though I felt the hot blood rushing
in torrents to my brow; “but I should vainly
consume the time, which is most needful, were I to
argue with you now! Suffice it—not for the wealth
of a universe, not for a monarch's title, would I
see one hair untimely severed from your head.
Get you to horse, sir, if you would not peril that
life to no purpose which I dare prophesy will, ere
long, be needed by your country! Get you to horse,
you and your friends, and not a sword shall be
raised to let or hinder you! You have done all that
man may do; you cannot retrieve matters, although,
by the sacrifice of yourself and of these brave gentlemen,
you can convert a check into a ruin that
will be irreparable. I, whom you deem your enemy,
I do beseech you, on my knee, to mount and
ride—it lists not whither! Quick! quick, my
lord! Up to this moment I have been successful.
Heaven only knows what fate the next may bring
to me or you!”
“I will to horse,” he said, after a short pause—
“I will; ay, and I will be grateful, if not just—and
deem your conduct less atrocious than it seems to-night.”
He turned towards his comrades in defeat—“Come,
gentlemen,” he said, “this officer of
interference—for which, I trow, his saintly employer
will return him but scant thanks!—To
horse! to horse!”
I had given Lydford his directions as we hurried
to the spot, and he had obeyed them with his
wonted alacrity. As Turenne spoke, some six or
seven chargers were led forward. Myself—I held
his stirrup as he mounted, and, with my hand upon
his rein, led him along the ranks he had so lately
deemed his own, till he had passed the outposts of
the camp! “God speed you, sir, and send you—
if it may be so—reason to doubt the justice of that
ill opinion you may well have formed of Harry
Mornington!” I spoke with an air of earnest yet
proud humility, uncovering my head in respect to
the character and talents of him I addressed, and
was but little astonished at his reply.
“By Heaven! it were base in me to hold it, had I
formed such an opinion as you mention. Henceforth
I will think of you as of one—”
“Think of me not at all,” I interrupted him—
“think of me not all, unless you can think of me
nobly! Ride now, my lord, ride for your life!”
| CHAPTER XVI. The brothers : | |