VIII. SHOWING HOW THE BISHOP'S PALACE AND THE CHURCH OF SAINT CANNAT
WERE DEMOLISHED.
Left to his reflections, Pomperant was not altogether satisfied with what he had done. He was now a prisoner on parole, and could not return to the camp, or communicate in any way with Bourbon.
Had he yielded to the dictates of prudence, he would have sought some secure retreat for the day, and none appeared so eligible for the purpose as the tavern where he had breakfasted, but the temptation to witness the progress of the siege was too strong to be resisted, and on quitting the Place de Linche he proceeded to a point whence a view of the ramparts could be obtained.
The cannonade was still going on as furiously as ever. A portion of the ramparts had been destroyed, and anew breach made in the walls. Still it was not yet large enough to allow a successful attack to be made. But it was evident that the besiegers were making every preparation for a speedy assault.
Supported by a tremendous fire from the batteries, and protected by mantelets, which they pushed on before them, a party of men advanced towards the fosse, and endeavoured to form a traverse by throwing into it a vast quantity of fascines, made of large boughs of trees tied together, fagots, hurdles, and bags and gabions full of earth and stones.
These operations could not be carried on without great loss on the part of the besiegers. A terrific fire was directed against them by the arqubusiers from the ramparts and bastions. Notwithstanding this, the work proceeded. A detachment of arquebusiers, marching down from the camp, fixed palisades within thirty toises of the walls, whence they fired upon the defenders of the ramparts.
At this juncture another sortie was made by Chabot de Brion, and with better effect than that which he had undertaken earlier in the day. Not only did he force the arquebusiers to retire in disorder, causing great havoc among them, but he slaughtered most of the engineers engaged on the traverse. Such as escaped the sword were drowned in the fosse.
So rapidly was this achievement executed, that ere Pescara could reach the scene of action with his cavalry, Brion had re-entered the city.
Infuriated by the losses they had sustained, the besiegers redoubled their efforts. Fresh engineers supplied the places of those who had perished, and the arquebusiers returned to their post. But success had heightened the ardour of the besieged, and stimulated them to greater exertions. Though the cannonade was continued without intermission throughout the day, the breach was not sufficiently enlarged for the assault.
Towards evening, however, the traverse was completed, though several parties of engineers had been destroyed in the task, and preparations were made to erect a gallery upon it. In spite of the constant severe fire from the ramparts and bastions—in spite of the stones and missiles hurled upon them—the engineers persisted in their work, and laboured with such resolution and assiduity, that, in less than an hour, a gallery, eight feet high and twelve wide, was put together. The sides were formed of double planks, the intervals being filled up with earth, and the pointed roof was covered externally with raw hides, so as to prevent it from being set on fire.
A critical juncture had now arrived for the besieged. Had the breach been sufficiently large, the assault would inevitably have taken place, for Bourbon was fully prepared; but not only was the aperture insufficient, but it could be seen that a rear rampart had been erected, which would have to be stormed when the outer wall was carried.
Once more, therefore, the assault had to be deferred, and in consequence of this delay all the works which it had cost so many lives to execute were thrown away. Heavy cannon, placed on the bastions commanding this angle of the walls, were brought to bear upon the gallery, and the damage done by the shot enabled the besieged to set fire to it by means of burning barrels of pitch, which they hurled upon it. The whole fabric was soon in flames, and the conflagration, which was witnessed by the whole of the Imperial army, produced a very striking effect, as it illuminated all the ramparts, towers, and structures in its vicinity. Bourbon had thus the mortification of seeing the work, on which so much labour had been expended, utterly destroyed.
As soon as the gallery was consumed, and the blackened beams had fallen into the moat, the energetic commanders of the garrison ordered ladders to be brought, and a large party of men descended for the purpose of destroying the traverse. Before they could accomplish this, they were attacked by a strong detachment of Spanish infantry, and a desperate conflict took place. The Spaniards were driven back with great loss, but, as they were speedily reinforced, the besiegers were compelled to abandon the work and remount the walls.
Shortly after this occurrence, a council of war was held by Renzo da Ceri and Chabot de Brion in a large hall in the episcopal palace.
Ever since the commencement of the siege this splendid structure had been abandoned by the bishop, who had taken up his abode in a less exposed part of the city, and the palace was now occupied by troops. All the principal officers of the garrison were present, and Renzo announced to the meeting that it would be necessary to demolish the palace in whieh they stood, as well as the venerable church of Saint Cannot adjoining it, lest the besiegers should obtain possession of them.
“It grieves me sorely,” he said, “to order the destruction of these noble edifices, endeared to the citizens of Marseilles by so many recollections. But there is no help for it. With the aid of Heaven, I trust, we may keep off the foe. But should he pass the walls, we must afford him no shelter. The work must be commenced without delay.”
Not a single dissentient voice was raised, but the proposition was received with sadness. After a pause, Renzo added, “I perceive from your silence that you are all of my opinion. Let us now repair to the church of Saint Cannat, where mass will be celebrated for the last time.”
The edifice which had thus been doomed to destruction was a fine old Gothic church, and, as we have just intimated, was held in especial veneration by the citizens. It was soon known that it was about to be demolished, and thousands flocked towards it to join in the sacred rites which were to be performed within it for the last time.
The interior of the church presented a very striking spectacle, the interest of which was heightened by the circumstances that had brought together such an assemblage. The aisles were filled with soldiers and armed citizens; and among the former were many whose grim visages showed they had been actively engaged in the recent strife. In the nave was drawn up the corps of Amazons, with Marphise and Marcelline at their head. Within the choir stood Renzo da Ceri, Chabot de Brion, Mirandel, and all the principal officers, in their full accoutrements. The viguier and the chief magistrates of the city were likewise present. The Bishop of Marseilles, assisted by other ecclesiastical dignitaries, officiated at the altar, and never before in that fabric had mass been solemnised with such fervour and devotion as ou that night.
The occasion, indeed, was one that could not fail to excite the profoundest interest in all who witnessed the ceremonial. Never more within those hallowed walls, which were so firmly built that they might have lasted for ages, would holy rites be performed. All those reverend objects, all those tombs and monuments, would be destroyed—all those shrines desecrated. It was a sad reflection, but it weighed upon every breast.
Among those gathered in the church were Pomperant and Hugues. They were stationed near one of the pillars that lined the north aisle within a few paces of Marcelline, who was aware of the proximity of her lover. An address was pronounced by the bishop, in which he deeply lamented the necessary destruction of this temple of the Most High, denouncing Bourbon as the cause of the sacrilege, and invoking Heaven's vengeance upon his head. It was not without a shudder that Pomperant listened to these awful words, and perceived the effect they produced on Marcelline.
Just as the bishop concluded his discourse, the thunder of artillery was heard, and Renzo da Ceri and some of the other leaders quitted the church, but the service was not otherwise interrupted. The corps of Amazons remained to the last, and Marcelline allowed her companions to march forth without her. She lingered behind to exchange a few words with her lover. By this time the church was almost deserted, and they moved to a part of the aisle where the tapers, having been extinguished, left them almost in darkness.
“I ought to regard you as an enemy,” she said. “I fear you are included in the denunciation which the good bishop has just pronounced upon Bourbon.”
“Listen to me, Marcelline, and believe what I tell you,” he rejoined. “The obstinacy of the citizens of Marseilles has rendered this siege necessary. They have brought all the calamities of war upon themselves. Why could they not act like the inhabitants of Aix and other towns of Provence?”
“Because they are loyal subjects of the king,” she replied.
“These were not your sentiments when we first met,” rejoined Pomperant. “You and your brother were then devoted to Bourbon.”
“My brother is still devoted to him,” she said. “Nay more, he is condemned to death by the Parliament of Paris for the share he has taken in the conspiracy, and if he had not fled, the sentence would have been executed. But I have changed. Sinee I have been in Marseilles, and have discoursed with these loyal and patriotic citizens, I have imbibed their opinions.”
“You are wrong,” rejoined Pomperant. “Marseilles will be far happier and more prosperous under Bourbon's rule than under that of François de Valois. A day will come—and that shortly—when Bourbon's name will be as much honoured in this city as it is now execrated.”
“Heaven grant he may never enter Marseilles as a conqueror!” exclaimed Marcelline, fervently.
“Be not deceived, Mareelline. He will never retire till he has taken the city, and it cannot hold out long.”
“You are mistaken,” she cried, energetically. “It will hold out till it is relieved by the king. But if its fall should be inevitable, it is the fixed determination of the citizens to burn it to the ground rather than Bourbon shall possess it, I have vowed to kill myself rather than full into the hands of his ruthless soldiery.”
“Your fears are groundless, I repeat,” said Pomperant; “but if you have such apprehensions, why do you not leave the city? The port is open. You can easily gain the fleet.”
“I have promised Marphise to remain here to the last, and I shall keep my word,” she rejoined.
“Then I will stay and guard you,” he said. “Oh, Marcelline! let not these differences separate us. I love you not the less devotedly because of your loyalty to François de Valois, Do not hate me for my attachment to Bourbon.”
“But I am bound to regard you as a traitor,” she rejoined.
“Not as a traitor to you,” he replied. “I have never swerved, even in thought, from my fidelity to you.”
“Talk to me no more of love,” she cried. “I have steeled my breast against all the softer emotions. But we must separate. Those who are engaged to demolish this saintly pile are about to commence their task. Farewell!”
And she quitted the church by a side-door.
A number of priests and friars now entered the fane, and proceeded to remove all the sacred vessels, reliques, and other objects from the sacristy and from the various shrines. The great silver crucifix, and the tall silver candlesticks, were carried away from the altar.
While this was going on, a large band of workmen, armed with pickaxes, shovels, and bars of iron, had set to work to pull down the monuments and open the tombs, and the church resounded with the noise of their implements.
Ere long a great number of ancient coffins were disinterred—some of stone and some of mouldering wood, and from the former the dead were taken. Coffins and corpses were then laid upon litters, and taken out of the church, to be deposited in a more secure spot—the bearers being headed by a procession of priests and monks.
As soon as they were gone, the church, which had thus been despoiled of its treasures and its dead, was given up to the destroyer.
The work of demolition immediately commenced, hundreds being employed in the task, which was superintended by experienced engineers. Gunpowder was used to accelerate the operations, and before morning the reverend and beautiful fabric was little better than a heap of ruins, the roof gone, the pillars in the aisles undermined and thrown down, and the walls demolished. The most determined enemy could not have done the work quicker than it was executed by the patriotic citizens, and they ceased not in their task till the holy pile was razed to the ground. The stones and beams that had composed it were employed in barricading the streets.
As Pomperant and Hugues were in the church when the work of demolition commenced, they were compelled to join in it, and they both laboured as industriously as the rest, till relieved by a fresh party.
When Pomperant escaped from the irksome task imposed upon him by necessity, he found that a multitude of citizens and soldiers were employed in pulling down the bishop's palace. Explosion after explosion shook the house to its foundations, and the walls fell with a tremendous crash.
The good bishop stood by, watching the destruction of his palace, and expressed no regret, but encouraged the soldiers and citizens in their task. But when the entire fabric fell to the ground, his looks expressed the deepest emotion, and he turned away and quitted the spot.
So complete was the destruction, that it seemed as if it had been caused by an earthquake. But again the active soldiers were at work, and the remains of the late noble edifice were expeditiously removed.
Much had been accomplished during that night—more than Pomperant, who could not tear himself from the scene, supposed possible. A stately palace, embellished by charming gardens, and a large church had been utterly destroyed, and a great portion of the wreck of both buildings carried away, and employed, as we have said, in barricading the streets, and in the construction of other defensive works.
“If Bourbon should carry yon walls by assault to-day, he will find no shelter here,” remarked Pomperant to Hugues.
“And the barricades must be taken before he can get into the city,” rejoined Hugues. “These citizens of Marseilles, it must be owned, are good workmen.”
IX. LES TRANCHERS DES DAMES.
Greatly to the surprise of the citizens, who expected a renewal of the tremendous cannonade which had been carried on during the two previous days, the firing on the part of the besiegers now ceased. As this complete cessation of hostilities endured throughout the day, and as the night passed without disturbance, the general opinion prevailed that Bourbon, admonished by his recent failure, was about to raise the siege and retire.
But this opinion was not shared by Renzo da Ceri and the leaders of the garrison. They felt certain that a new plan of action was about to be adopted by the besiegers; and the supposition was soon shown to be correct. It was found that Bourbon was approaching the walls by sap, and had already made considerable advance before the discovery of his plan was made. It was now evident that, despairing of making a sufficient breach with his cannon, he was proceeding to undermine the walls, and level them with gunpowder.
As soon as Renzo da Ceri discovered the enemy's design, which was revealed to him during a sortie made with that object, he set to work to defeat it, and immediately ordered trenches to be cut near the walls, so as to enable him to prepare counter-mines. These works were at once commenced, and were carried on with the same zeal and spirit that had been displayed during the previous operations. But as these trenches and subterranean galleries were to be of great depth as well as length, and must be completed within a short space of time, extraordinary exertions were required. Thousands of active citizens offered their services, and worked like regular pioneers.
On hearing what was to be done, Marphisc and Marcelline, accompanied by the corps of Amazons, sought an interview with the commander, who received them somewhat ungraciously.
“What would you with me?” he said. “This is no time for trifling. I want men, not women.”
“We can work as well as men,” replied Marphise, boldly. “We ask to be employed in digging the trenches.”
“I admire your spirit, and thank you for the offer,” said Kenzo; “but such rough work as this is unfit for your delicate hands.”
“We will show you what women ean do, if you deign to employ us,” urged Marphise. “Our example will serve to animate the citizens, and will teach the enemy what they have to expect.”
“Again I say, you overrate your own powers,” rejoined Renzo. “The work is sueh as would tax the strength of the stoutest pioneer. You will soon be compelled to abandon it.”
“Have no sueh fear,” cried Marcelline, resolutely. “I speak in the name of the whole corps. If we commence the work, we will carry it through. Will we not?” she added, appealing to them.
All the Amazons shouted an affirmative.
“We demand to be employed,” said Marphise, warmly. “We will take no refusal.”
“Well, since you are resolved, I will not attempt to dissuade you further,” said Renzo, smiling. “You have my full permission to work at the trenches.”
This response was received by a loud and ringing shout from the whole body of the Amazons.
“You will not regret granting us permission, monseigneur,” said Marcelline. “But we must further stipulate that none but women be allowed to work at our trench.”
“That is but fair,” replied the commandant. “I unhesitatingly agree to the condition. The whole honour of the work shall be yours; and if you achieve it, your names will ever occupy the proudest page in the annals of your city.”
This speech was received with another shout from the female corps.
“Conduct us to the spot where the trench is to be opened, and we will begin at once,” said Marphise.
Yielding to the request, Renzo proceeded with the gallant little band towards the Tour de Saint Paul, where he marked out a spot adjoining the walls. Experienced pioneers explained to the Amazons the nature of the work they would have to perform, and supplied them with the necessary implements. This done they retired, and the resolute damsels having divested themselves of their helmets and breastplates, immediately set to work, their operations being watched with great curiosity by the soldiers stationed on the adjacent tower, and by those on the ramparts.
They pursued their task with an unflagging energy that excited the admiration of all who beheld them, and in a few hours the trenches were fairly opened. Marphise and Marcelline were foremost in the work, and as they came forth from the excavation to rest for a short time from their toil, and allow others to take their place, they perceived Pomperant watching them from a distance.
This undertaking caused a great sensation throughout the city, and before long dames and damsels of all ranks flocked to the trenches, and zealously assisted in the operations, which were continued night and day without interruption—one band being immediately relieved by another.
Marphise and Marcelline passed three entire days and as many nights in the trenches, and during that interval allowed themselves but little repose.
On the morning of the fourth day the work was complete. A long subterranean gallery, about five feet square, had been excavated, having chambers at intervals, carried below the foundation of the walls, in which powder could be deposited. As Renzo da Ceri examined the work, he was struck with astonishment.
“I could not have believed this could have been done had I not seen it,” he exclaimed. “These trenches are marvellously executed. If this siege is memorable for nothing else, it will be for this unparalleled achievement. While Marseilles shall endure, these trenches will never be forgotten.”
Renzo's words have come to pass. The Boulevard des Dames of the modern city of Marseilles is so designated because it occupies the site of the famous Ladies' Trenches.
X. HOW POMPERANT FURNISHED A SAFE-CONDUCT TO THE DEPUTIES TO THE KING.
In less than a week Renzo da Ceri had completed his vast defensive operations.
In this interval a fosse of great depth had been cut behind that part of the walls most exposed to the fire of the enemy. Not only was it intended that this fosse should be filled with powder, petards, and caltrops, but it was flanked by high ramparts, so that in reality a second line of fortifications would have to be taken if the outer walls should be carried. But though Renzo was firmly persuaded he could hold out, he felt that the king ought to be made acquainted with the exact condition of the city, so that his majesty might take such measures as he should deem necessary for its relief.
Intelligence had been received through the fleet that François was at Avignon with his army, but the difficulty was how to communicate with him. At last the commander bethought him of Pierre Cépède and Jean Bègue, two citizens distinguished for their courage and loyalty, and proposed the errand to them, and they at once agreed to undertake it.
“I thank you, messieurs, for your ready compliance with my request,” said Renzo. “If you should be taken, I do not think any harm will befal you. I can compel Bourbon to set you free. You look surprised, but I will explain my meaning. Last night I made a prisoner of great importance. The Seigneur Pomperant, Bourbon's favourite, has had the foolhardiness to venture within the city, and I should have ordered him for immediate execution, had not the idea occurred to me that I could turn him to account. What ho, there!” he added to the guard. “Bring in the prisoners.”
Presently Pomperant and Hugues were brought in, guarded by halberdiers. Both maintained an undaunted demeanour.
“Seigneur Pomperant,” said Renzo, sternly, “I know you are Bourbon's chief favourite, and that he will gladly purchase your safety. I shall therefore keep you as a hostage for these two gentlemen, who are going as deputies to the king. You must furnish them with a safe-conduct.”
“Even if I were inclined to do so, monseigneur, I lack the power,” rejoined Pomperant.
“I will show you how to do it,” said Renzo. “Sit down at that table, and write a letter to Charles de Bourbon, telling him you are my prisoner, and that you have engaged to protect Pierre Cépède and Jean Bègue from all harm and interruption. Add, that if they return to Marseilles in safety, I will set you free, but if they are detained or molested, I will hang you in the sight of the whole Imperial army.”
“If I write as you desire, the Duke de Bourbon will not respect my letter,” said Pomperant. “But if you carry out your threat, I warn you that terrible retribution will follow.”
“I will take my chance of that,” rejoined Renzo. “If you are wise, you will save yourself from an ignominious death. Refuse to write as I have dictated, and I will forthwith hang you as a spy.”
“Methinks you had better agree to these conditions, monseigneur,” said Hugues. “If you decline, they will doubtless hang me at the same time.”
“You judge rightly, fellow,” remarked Renzo. “You will share the same fate as your master.”
“Then, in Heaven's name, comply, monseigneur,” implored Hugues.
Pomperant sat down and wrote the required letter. When he had done so, he gave it to Renzo, who, after scanning it, delivered it to the deputies.
“There is your safe-conduct, messieurs,” he said. “You will start on your expedition to-night.”
Then, turning to Pomperant, he added, “Fear not that I will act loyally towards you, Seigneur Pomperant. You have been condemned to death as a traitor by the Parliament of Paris, but I shall not regard the decree. I look upon you only as a prisoner of war. On the return of these gentlemen, I will liberate you and your attendant. Meantime, you will both remain close prisoners.”
Pomperant and Hugues were then removed by the guard, and were conducted to the tower of Saint Paul, where they were locked up in separate dungeons.
XI. HOW TOULON WAS BESIEGED AND TAKEN BY THE MARQUIS DEL VASTO.
More powder and larger cannon must be had, or a sufficiently wide breach in the walls cannot be made,” remarked Peseara to Bourbon, as they sat together in the tent of the latter. “But where are these requisites to be procured?”
“In Toulon. In that fortress there are plenty of cannon of far larger calibre than ours, together with abundance of powder and ball.”
“But Toulon has yet to be taken. That may be a work of some time, since the fortress is strong.”
“The siege ought not to occupy more than a week,” rejoined Bourbon. “I shall send your valiant nephew, the Marquis del Vasto, to besiege the place by land. He will be supported by Monçada, who is lying off the coast, as you know, and no interference is to be apprehended from the French fleet, as La Fayette and Andrea Doria are fully occupied in guarding the port of Marseilles. The capture of Toulon may therefore be regarded as certain.”
“The plan appears practicable,” said Peseara, after some reflection; “and since you are resolved upon it, the sooner it is executed the better. Del Vasto will like the enterprise.”
“I am sure of it,” replied Bourbon. “I will ride down at once to his camp and give him instructions. It is but a day's march to Toulon, and he will appear before the fortress ere any tidings can be given of his approach.”
As had been anticipated, the gallant young marquis received the command with delight, and at once prepared for the expedition.
Taking with him a large detachment of the Spanish forces, he marched throughout the night, and appeared at dawn on the crest of the hills overlooking Toulon. At the same time, the Spanish fleet under Admiral Mon-çada, who had received instructions from Bourbon, entered the roadstead, and took up a position opposite the fortress, which immediately opened fire upon the enemy.
At this epoch the Castle of Toulon was a place of great strength, and its ramparts mounted a considerable number of guns of large size. Notwithstanding this, the combined attack by land and sea was successful, and on the fourth day from the commencement of the siege, Del Vasto became master of the fortress. Irritated by the obstinate defence he had encountered, and the heavy losses he had sustained, the young Spanish general put the garrison to the sword.
All the large cannon found within the fort, together with an immense stock of the munitions of war, were placed on board the fleet, and, after being safely landed, were conveyed to the Imperial camp; thus providing Bourbon with abundant materials for prosecuting the siege of Marseilles with vigour. As may be supposed, Del Vasto received high commendations from the duke for his brilliant achievement.
Meanwhile, despatches from his royal allies had reached Bourbon. The Emperor informed him, by a letter brought by the Comte de Montfort, that the army of Catalonia would speedily enter France.
“Tell the Emperor,” said Bourbon, well pleased by the intelligence, “that I hope to send him in a few days the good news of the fall of Marseilles. In anticipation of that event, entreat him to hasten as much as possible the march of the auxiliary army, and entreat him also to Strengthen his fleet, which is inferior to that commanded by La Fayette and Andrea Doria. Things could not go better than they do at present. I shall soon be in a condition to give battle to François de Valois—and if I win it—and by Sainte Barbe I shall win it!—his Imperial Majesty will be the greatest monarch that ever reigned, and able to give law to all Christendom.”
Charged with this message, the Comte de Montfort departed.
From Henry VIII. Bourbon received the sum of a hundred thousand ducats, which was brought by Sir John Russell.
“Tell your royal master,” he said to Russell, “that the time has now arrived when it will be needful to march his army into Picardy. Fifteen days hence, at the latest, I trust to be joined by the auxiliary forces about to be despatched by the Emperor from Catalonia. By that time Marseilles will have fallen.”
“Your highness feels sure of that?” remarked the English envoy, with an incredulous smile.
“I am certain of it,” said Bourbon, confidently. “The besieged have made a gallant defence, but they cannot hold out much longer. My approaches are now within a few toises of the moat. I have plenty of cannon of the largest calibre, which will soon make a breach in the walls.”
“But I am told by Pescara that there is an inner fosse of great depth, filled with combustibles, and a second line of ramparts with cannon mounted on the embrasures,” remarked Sir John Russell.
“No matter,” rejoined Bourbon. “I will take the city in spite of its defences, and, having done so, I shall withdraw to Aix, where I shall await the arrival of the Catalonian army. On being joined by it, I shall at once march to Avignon, and compel François to give me battle. If I am victorious, your royal master will be King of France.”
“It will rejoice his majesty and the Lord Cardinal to learn that your highness is so confident of success,” replied Russell. “I now take my leave, and shall return at once to England.”
Sir John Russell had not long been gone, when a great noise was heard outside the tent, and, surprised at the disturbance, Bourbon rushed out to ascertain the cause of it.
“What means this noise?” he demanded of several arquebusiers, who were standing around, and whose countenances manifested alarm. “Is the enemy upon us?”
“Worse than that, general,” replied one of the men. “A great shot from the accursed 'Basilisk' has just fallen upon the Marquis of Pescara's tent,” pointing in that direction. “Your highness may see the rent it has made.”
“Great Heavens!” ejaculated Bourbon. “But the marquis!—is he safe?”
“Alas, general, I much fear he is killed,” replied the arquebusier. “He was at mass at the time with his confessor, Padre Hilario.”
Bourbon heard no more, but flew to the tent. On entering it, a terrible spectacle met his gaze. On the ground lay the mangled body of Padre Hilario, and near the unfortunate priest lay two Spanish officers, one of whom had been beheaded by the huge shot. Pescara was standing near the ghastly group, so bespattered with blood that Bourbon fancied he must be grievously wounded. A strange laugh, however, from the Spanish general convinced him to the contrary.
“I have had a very narrow escape,” said Pescara. “If I had not knelt on this side of poor Padre Hilario, I should have shared his fate. The besieged have learned to take better aim with 'The Basilisk' than they did at first. Your highness sees what messengers they send us,” he added, in a tone of bitter raillery. “I suppose you thought the shouts were caused by the timorous magistrates of Marseilles bringing you the keys of the city—ha! ha!”
Bourbon made no reply to this ill-timed jest, but instantly quitted the tent.
Next day, the Marquis del Vasto was sent to propose terms of surrender to the garrison. He was accompanied by twenty lances, and preceded by a herald and a trumpeter, and the errand of this little troup being evidently pacific, it was allowed to approach the Porte d'Aix without molestation.
On arriving before the gate, the trumpeter thrice sounded his clarion, and when the bruit ceased, an officer from the battlements, addressing the herald, demanded his business.
“The most noble Marquis del Vasto desires an audience of the commanders of the garrison, to lay before them a proposition from his Highness the Duke de Bourbon, general-in-chief of the Imperial army.”
“Tarry till I ascertain the pleasure of the commanders,” rejoined the officer.
After a time the officer reappeared on the battlements, and announced that the Marquis del Vasto could alone be admitted.
“His lordship may enter without fear,” said the officer. “I am authorised by the commanders of the garrison to guarantee his safety.”
On this the drawbridge was lowered, and the gate being thrown open, a strong guard of halberdiers issued forth, and lined the bridge.
Del Vasto then dismounted, and, crossing the bridge, was met at the gate by the officer, who conducted him to a chamber on the basement floor of the tower, ordinarily used as a guard-room. Here he found two knightly personages, both completely cased in steel, whom he recognised as the commanders of the garrison.
“I am sent to you, messeigneurs,” said Del Vasto, after formal salutations had passed, “to make a proposition which I trust may be entertained. Conceiving himself to be in a position to take this city, which you have so long and so ably defended, his Highness the Duke de Bourbon, influenced by feelings of humanity, before making the assault, has determined to afford you the opportunity of capitulating on terms, consistent with your own honour, and highly advantageous to the city.”
“It is needless to state the terms, my lord marquis,” replied Chabot de Brion, haughtily. “We cannot listen to them.”
“Do not reject the proposal unheard, messeigneurs,” said Del Vasto. “Have some consideration for the citizens.”
“You have taught us what to expect, marquis, by your treatment of the garrison of Toulon,” rejoined Renzo, sternly. “But we are not to be terrified. Tell your leader, Charles de Bourbon to take Marseilles—if he can. We will only treat with him at the cannon's mouth.”
“You will have reason to repent your bold determination, messeigneurs,” rejoined Del Vasto. “Before departing, I would say a word in regard to the Seigneur Pomperant, who has fallen into your hands. Are you willing to make an exchange of prisoners? You shall have a dozen of your own officers for him.”
“Offer us twenty, and add twenty to those, and we will not part with him,” rejoined Renzo. “Tell Bourbon so.”
With a proud salutation Del Vasto then departed. Conducted to the gate by the officer, he passed through the guard lining the drawbridge, mounted his charger, and rode back to the camp, where he related what had occurred to Bourbon and Pescara.
“I felt sure the garrison would not capitulate,” said the latter.
“What of Pomperant?” demanded Bourbon, eagerly. “Will they exchange him?”
“No, your highness, they absolutely refuse,” replied Del Vasto. “But I do not imagine he is in any danger. They have some motive for detaining him.”
“Possibly,” said Bourbon. “We shall learn what it is in time.”
XII. AVIGNON.
Roused to exertion by the danger that menaced his kingdom, François I. hastened to reinforce his army, which had been greatly reduced by Bonnivet's reverses in the Milanese, and in a few weeks after Bourbon's irruption into Provence, he had succeeded in augmenting it by fourteen thousand Swiss mercenaries, six thousand lansquenets, and fifteen hundred light horse.
Placing himself at the head of this force, he marched to Lyons, where he was joined by the King of Navarre and several foreign princes. Almost all the nobles, on whose aid Bourbon had counted, flocked round the king's standard, bringing with them large companies of horse, so that he had now a very numerous army—the three divisions which were placed under the command of Marshals Chabannes, Foix, and Montmorency.
Continuing his march along the left bank of the Rhone, François pitched his camp at Avignon, and again surrendered himself to pleasure, passing his time in such festivities as he was wont to indulge in at Blois and Fontainebleau. In the old Papal palace of Avignon—an enormous structure, part convent and part castle—he held his court, and its gloomy halls and chambers were enlivened by the presence of troops of young nobles decked out in gay attire, and echoed to the light laugh of the numerous frolic dames who ever accompanied the luxurious monarch.
Bonnivet was with his royal master at Avignon. In spite of the favourite's reverses in the Milanese, he had lost none of his influence, and easily persuaded the king that it was necessary to his glory to recover possession of the lost duchy of Milan, and that if he appeared at the head of an army in Italy, this object would infallibly be accomplished. François therefore determined upon a new expedition as soon as he should have driven Bourbon out of Provence.
Subjugated by the charms of the resistless Diane de Poitiers, who had now completely supplanted the Comtesse de Chateaubriand, unable to tear himself from her, encouraged in his luxurious idleness by Bonnivet, Saint-Marsault, and others of his courtiers, the king wasted his time in the pleasant city of Avignon, dreaming of conquests which he meant to achieve, and allowing Bourbon to prosecute the siege of Marseilles unmolested.
Attended by a mirthful train, Diane and the king made a pilgrimage to Vaucluse, and, after quaffing of the classic fountain, François carved the name of his mistress, linked with his own, on the walls of the grotto.
One day it chanced that François and Diane were stationed on the balcony over the gate of the Papal palace—an elevated spot whence the sovereign-pontiffs who had inhabited the palace were accustomed to pronounce their benediction upon the people, as they would have done from the windows of the Vatican had Rome been free to them. Chance had brought the amorous pair to the balcony. For the last hour they had been strolling round the lofty walls of the palace. Vainly had Diane essayed to count the spires that rose around her—nowhere are there so many churches as in Avignon—and as if to confuse her still further, their bells all rang out at once. Half distracted by the deafening clamour, she turned to the towering cathedral, where Popes were enthroned, and where Popes lie buried. From the contemplation of Notre-Dame des Dons, as the mighty edifice is designated, she turned to gaze upon the camp, which occupied the whole of the plain lying between the junction of the rapid Durance and the rushing Rhone. The long rows of tents, mingled with pavilions decorated with pennons and banners, formed a picture of surpassing beauty.
By this time the bells had ceased ringing, and François was able to resume the tender converse which the clamour had interrupted.
Thus beguiling the time, now gazing at one point of the ancient city, now at another; sometimes looking at the cathedral, at the fortifications, at the vast tract of country traversed by the Rhone, at the mountains, or at the camp, they found themselves in the balcony overlooking the gateway. Here, seated on a marble bench, which had been once used by the Popes, they continued their discourse, while the young nobles and dames in attendance ranged themselves behind them.
The balcony where the king and Diane sat commanded a wide open space in front of the gateway, which was defended by a dry moat and drawbridge. Perceiving two horsemen, escorted by an officer and half a dozen mounted men-at-arms, approach the gateway, and being struck by their appearance, François despatched Bonnivet, who was standing among the group of courtiers, to make inquiries concerning them.
After the lapse of a few minutes Bonnivet reappeared, accompanied by the two strangers, both of whom were men of middle age, grave deportment, and plain attire, and presented them to the king as Messieurs Pierre Cépède and Jean Bègue, deputies from Marseilles.
“I have not waited for permission to bring these brave and loyal citizens before your majesty,” said Bonnivet, “because I felt certain you would grant them an immediate audience.”
“You did right,” rejoined François. “Rise, messieurs,” he added to the kneeling deputies. “You are welcome. You must have run great risk in coming hither. How did you contrive to elude the vigilance of the foe?”
“Heaven has aided us, sire,” replied Pierre Cépède. “All the approaches to the city, on the land side, are so strictly guarded, that certain destruction would have attended any attempt at exit in that direction. We were, therefore, compelled to pass out at the port; and not without much difficulty and danger reached the mouth of the Rhône. We came up the river to Arles, and thence, with as little delay as possible, to this city.”
“You have done well,” replied François, approvingly. “What tidings do you bring me of my faithful city of Marseilles?”
“The city still holds out, sire,” said Pierre Cépède; “and its defences have been so greatly strengthened, that no uneasiness whatever was felt by the commanders until the enemy obtained possession of the heavy artillery from Toulon.”
“Ha!” exclaimed François, surprised and angry. “How is this? I did not know that Toulon had fallen.”
“The news only arrived this morning, sire,” interposed Bonnivet. “I was unwilling to trouble your majesty by mentioning it.”
“It should not have been kept from me for a single moment,” cried the king, sharply. “By Saint Denis! this is a great disaster. Where was my fleet at the time? How came La Fayette and Doria to let Toulon be taken?”
“Sire, they could not leave the port of Marseilles,” returned Jean Bègue. “The fall of Toulon is a heavy blow, but the fall of Marseilles would be still heavier. Listen to the prayers of the citizens, sire, and come to their relief. You do not know what exertions they have made for the defence of the city—what heroism they have displayed. No sacrifices have been too great. Our noblest and fairest dames have formed themselves into bands, and have worked at the trenches like pioneers. Oh, madame!” he continued, addressing Diane, “if you could only behold what they have done, you would be filled with admiration. For three days and three nights they laboured incessantly. We are proud of our women, madame.”
“And with good reason,” rejoined Diane. “Oh, sire! you must fly to the rescue of this devoted city. You will ever reproach yourself if it should fall.”
Both the deputies looked gratefully at her as these words were uttered.
“Is there immediate danger, messieurs?” demanded the king.
“No, sire,” replied Pierre Cépède. “We have endeavoured to explain to your majesty the exact condition of the city. Its defences are as complete as they can be made. We have brave and experienced commanders, and our citizens are animated by loyalty and devotion. But we have an enemy opposed to us, skilful, daring, and confident of success. If Marseilles can be taken, Charles de Bourbon will take it.”
“It never shall be taken,” cried François. “Return to your fellow-citizens, messieurs. Tell them how highly I estimate their courage and loyalty. Say that I will forthwith send them from Martigues a reinforcement of fifteen hundred men-at-arms, with good store of wine, cattle, and provender. Bid them persevere in their valiant defence of the city. They may rest assured that I will come to their succour. Farewell, messieurs! In good time I will adequately requite the important service you have rendered me.”
Well satisfied with these assurances, the deputies withdrew.
Next day, the king marched with his whole army towards Aix. On learning that he was approaching, the viguier and the magistrates, dreading his resentment, rode forth from the city to meet him, and strove to excuse themselves for the welcome they had given to Bourbon. François fiercely interrupted them, calling out, “Ha, knaves! ha, traitors! You have opened your fates to a rebel in arms against us and our kingdom. You received him with all honour, allowed him to usurp the title of Comte de Provence, which belongs to us, and took the oath of fidelity to him, in violation of your allegiance to us your lawful sovereign. You deserve death, and you shall die.”
“Spare us, sire! spare us!” cried the viguier and the others, throwing themselves at his feet. “We now see the enormity of our offence.”
“Repentance comes too late. I will have no pity upon you, vile traitors,” rejoined the king, sternly. “From your fate your misguided fellow-citizens shall learn what it is to incur our displeasure. Away with them!” he added to the guard. “Let them be taken baek to the city, and decapitated in the place in front of the Cathedral of Saint Sauveur. Set their heads on the gates, so that all may see how treason is punished.”
This severe sentence was carried into effect. As the king entered Aix, he looked up at the gates, and beheld the heads of the unfortunate viguier and his brother-magistrates.
Not content with punishing the chief offenders, François compelled all the principal citizens and all public officers to renew their oaths of allegiance to him, and imprisoned several who were proved to have displayed zeal for the rebel chief.
Diane de Poitiers accompanied the king to Aix, and it was arranged that she should occupy the old palace of René d'Anjou, while her royal lover moved on to succour Marseilles.