After securing the door I loaded my pistol, undressed, and stepped into bed, quite intending to remain awake all night. However, my eyes were heavy, I was tired out, and in spite of danger I soon fell asleep, not to waken again till a servant, hammering at the door, inquired if I was nearly ready for breakfast. Jumping up hastily, I took a glance round the room, and found to my relief that nothing had been disturbed.
"Pillot was right," I muttered, "the rascals are waiting till I am beyond the town. I wish Captain Courcy had introduced his two friends."
After making my toilet I went to the stables, where my horse, quite recovered from his fatigue, was looking in fine condition. Then, returning to the inn, I ate a substantial breakfast, and, obeying Pillot's injunctions, made no attempt to start till ten o'clock. How shrewdly the little man had judged my enemies' plans was made plain almost at the instant of my passing through the gate.
"I trust monsieur is better," exclaimed a voice in my ear, and there was Captain Courcy mounted on a powerful horse close by my side.
And here I must stop to mention that the old soldier performed his part very cleverly. He exhibited such surprise at seeing me, that, but for Pillot's warning, I should have believed we met by accident. As it was, he found me on my guard.
"I owe you an apology, captain," said I pleasantly; "I fear that last night you must have considered me very ill-mannered."
"No, no, the fault was mine. You were tired and I worried you thoughtlessly. Ah, now I see you are not my old friend, De Lalande."
"Yet I am a De Lalande," I laughed, telling him what he already knew; "Henri de Lalande was my cousin. He is dead now, poor fellow; you will not see him again."
"Dead?" he exclaimed in a tone of surprise; "Henri dead? No; it is impossible."
"Yet it is true! I was with him when he died."
It was vastly entertaining to watch the old rogue's antics as he expressed his astonishment, though knowing as well as I that my cousin was dead and buried, but I kept a grave face.
"Well, well," said he, "I shall miss him sorely. We were excellent friends, though there were twenty years between us. Do you know—— But there, I am wasting your time and my own. I have an errand in Mézieres. I suppose you are not riding in that direction?"
"As it happens it is precisely where I am going."
"How odd," he cried. "Why, if you do not object we can travel together. The roads are not over safe, and in case of danger one can help the other."
"A good plan, captain, though these highway robbers are not much to be feared! I always keep my sword sharp and my pistols loaded."
"And I warrant you can use both at a pinch. Henri, now, was a famous swordsman. Poor fellow; he would not leave that wretched Abbé, though I often begged him to come over to our side."
The easy, natural way in which the fellow foisted himself on me as a travelling-companion was really wonderful. There was no sign of any plan or arrangement; we were, it seemed, chance travellers proceeding to the same place, and having a subject to discuss which interested us both.
As for me, I endeavoured not to betray my suspicion, but you may be sure I did not sleep on the journey. Courcy himself, especially if he caught me at a disadvantage, was more than my match, while his two companions might appear at any moment. So I rode warily, keeping the captain on my left and taking care that he did not lag behind. Fortunately, perhaps, there were numerous people on the highroad, and once we overtook a body of troops wearing the King's colours. Their officer stopped and questioned us, but our answers being satisfactory he allowed us to proceed.
"Condé evidently has few friends in these parts," remarked the captain.
"And fewer still the farther we go, which is a lucky thing for us. I suppose your regiment is at Mézieres?"
"Why, no," he answered carelessly, and lowering his voice, he added, "the truth is I am despatched on a special service. I cannot very well say more but——"
"No, no, keep your secret," I interrupted hastily; "it is enough for me that you are on the King's side," at which the rascal smiled pleasantly, thinking how easy it would be to pluck such a simple goose.
About four o'clock we approached the village of Verdu, when, oddly enough, my horse began to show signs of distress, and I was compelled to slacken pace. The captain expressed his sorrow, and would not hear of riding on alone.
"No," said he, "it is not my custom to leave a comrade in the lurch. We will push on together, and perhaps in the village you may be able to purchase or hire another animal which will carry you as far as Mézieres. Besides, the night bids fair to be stormy, and we may as well lie snug at the inn."
For some time I had noticed the sky was becoming overcast; dark clouds were hurrying up, and, as we dismounted, the storm burst.
"Corbleu!" cried the captain, "only just in time! The inn will be full to-night," and as he spoke two other horsemen dashed up to obtain shelter.
The innkeeper bade us welcome, the servants led away our horses, and we all entered the house together. The last two comers sat at a distance from us, as if not wishing for company, but I did not for an instant doubt that they were the crafty captain's missing friends.
"Landlord," exclaimed one of them, "my friend and I will stay here to-night; so put your two best rooms in order."
"There are but two, monsieur," replied the innkeeper.
"We require only two, stupid, but see to it that the linen is clean and wholesome."
"Wait a moment, monsieur," cried the captain gaily, "this gentleman and I intend to stay here while the storm lasts, and we shall require one of these same rooms."
"Oh," said I, "pray leave me out of the question; I can sleep here in my cloak," but the captain blustered loudly, vowing that I should do nothing of the kind, and at last it was decided that he and I should share one of the rooms between us.
This point being finally settled, after much wrangling, we sat down to our meal, and the two strangers gradually became more friendly. It appeared they were on their way to Vouziers, but, foreseeing the storm, had turned back to seek shelter.
Thus far I had seen nothing of Pillot, but, remembering his advice, I asked the innkeeper if he had a horse for sale or hire, explaining that I wished to leave early in the morning for Mézieres.
"I have none of my own, monsieur; horses are scarce in these parts since the troubles began; but there is one in the stables which belongs to a poor traveller who might sell it."
"Is it a good one?"
"Monsieur can judge for himself, but I do not think monsieur will care to ride it."
"Captain," said I, "will you come with me? You know more about a horse than I."
"Certainly," he exclaimed, jumping up. "Bring a lantern, landlord; we will go at once."
There were five horses in the stables—those of the captain and the two strangers, my own which was in a state of prostration, and a thin long-legged beast whose body was composed of skin and ribs.
On seeing this uncouth animal, the captain said with a laugh, "Ma foi, M. de Lalande, you would make a pretty picture riding into Mézieres on this brute. Peste! Let us return to the fire."
I asked where the owner was, and the innkeeper replied, "Somewhere in the village, monsieur, endeavouring to sell his goods."
"Is it not possible to obtain a decent animal anywhere?" I inquired.
"I will do my best," he answered, holding up the lantern to guide our steps as Courcy and I returned to the inn.
"It is a nuisance," exclaimed the captain, warming his hands at the fire, "but I fear you will have to stay here over to-morrow. If my business were not so urgent——"
"Oh, the landlord may find an animal by the morning, especially as I am prepared to pay a good price."
"Monsieur makes a thrust there," remarked one of the strangers; "one can do most things with a full purse. After all, it will only be a delay of a few hours or so."
We sat a long time listening to the storm, which, after a lull, had broken out with redoubled fury, and once or twice I detected a stealthy exchange of glances between Captain Courcy and the two travellers. Thus far their plans had worked out beautifully; I was, to all appearance, entirely in their power, and it would be easy for them during the night to abstract the note. The one point in my favour was that they believed I knew nothing of the plot, and I took pains not to undeceive them. I laughed at the captain's jokes, and applauded his stories, though half expecting every moment to hear him say, "And now, M. de Lalande, I will trouble you for that slip of paper."
However, the evening wore on, the storm stopped, the servants fastened the doors and went to bed, leaving their master to attend to us. And all the while, whether laughing or talking, I was listening anxiously for Pillot's signal. At last there came a tremendous knocking at the outside door, and we heard the innkeeper stump along the passage.
"A late guest," laughed Courcy; "he will find but scant accommodation. Oh, after all, it is only one of the villagers. What does he want, I wonder?"
"Monsieur!" exclaimed the innkeeper, putting his head into the room; "it is a man who has a horse for sale."
"I hope it isn't brother to the one in the stable!" exclaimed Captain Courcy with a laugh. "However, we may as well look at it, De Lalande, and then we will go to bed."
He was rising from his comfortable seat, when the landlord said, "The horse is not here; the man has only just heard in the village that monsieur required one."
"Still, he may bring it round soon enough in the morning! At what time do you intend to start, captain?"
"Not a moment later than six."
"Well, I will ask him," and without the least appearance of hurry, though my heart was thumping like a big hammer, I left the room.
This was the one critical moment. Would Courcy scent mischief and follow? I purposely left the door ajar so that they might listen to the conversation while they could see my hat and cloak in the room.
"Now, my man," I began brusquely, "about this horse? Can you bring it here by five o'clock in the morning?"
"Certainly, monsieur."
"If it suits me, there will be no haggling over the price, but unless the animal is thoroughly sound you will have your trouble for nothing."
"Monsieur will be satisfied, I know. It is as good a horse as one would wish to meet with."
"Well, we shall see. Be here at five o'clock sharp, or even a little earlier."
"Yes, monsieur," then the door slammed, and I was on the outside of the inn with Pillot.
"This way, monsieur, quick. Here is the captain's horse for you; I can manage the others. Here, Alphonse," and I saw a man at the animals' heads, "help me to mount, and then vanish. Unless you talk no one will suspect you. Ready, monsieur? Away then. Ah, they have discovered part of the trick and are running to the stables. Ho, ho! Captain Courcy! Captain Courcy!"
There was a shout from the inn; then a pistol shot, and my late companions ran this way and that in confusion.
"Not a moment later than six, captain," I cried. "Shall I carry a message to your friends in Mézieres?" and then, with a triumphant laugh, we clattered off in the darkness.
"We have scored the trick and the game," said Pillot, "though I thought we were beaten when the captain talked of coming out. However, they cannot catch us now, before reaching Mézieres, and beyond that they will not venture."
Nothing more was said for a long time; we rode hard side by side, Pillot leading the third horse. It was still dark and a high wind had sprung up, but the rain had ceased. Occasionally we stopped to listen, but there was no sound of galloping hoofs in the rear, and, indeed, we hardly expected that the captain and his friends would follow very far. Pillot reckoned the distance from Verdu to Mézieres at thirty miles, and with several hours' start it seemed ridiculous to think of pursuit. Presently we slackened pace, and I asked Pillot if he was sure of the road.
"I think so; I have been making inquiries. By the way, monsieur must be very cold without a hat."
"It is not pleasant; but better lose a hat than a head!" I replied with a laugh.
Pillot proved a good guide, and Mézieres was still half asleep when we rode into the town and pulled up at the principal inn.
"We can give ourselves two hours' rest," said the dwarf, "and then, in case of accidents, we had better proceed. After breakfast, monsieur can provide himself with a fresh hat and cloak."
"I will send for them, which will save time. We must leave nothing to chance, Pillot. I am much mistaken if this Captain Courcy is the man to confess himself beaten."
"He is beaten this time, confession or no confession," answered the dwarf, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Still, it is always well not to be too confident."
While we waited for breakfast he proceeded to give a brief account of his doings. Before leaving the inn at Rheims he had slipped into my horse's feed a powder, which, after a few hours' exercise, would produce a temporary weakness. Then, directly the gates were open, he had started for Verdu on the sorry beast which the innkeeper had showed me. On the plea of being a poor man he had obtained permission to sleep in an outhouse, and then his only difficulty was to discover some one who would help him in bringing out the horses. All this he related in high glee, laughing merrily at the idea of having tricked the gallant captain.
I inquired if he was sure the others were in the plot, to which he replied, "Perfectly, monsieur; they are both in Condé's pay, but just at present they will not have much to show for their wages!" and he laughed again.
"Thanks to you," I said warmly. "But for your cleverness, I should have fallen into the pit."
As soon as the horses were rested and I had provided myself with a new hat and cloak, we made a fresh start, riding fast till Mézieres was at least a dozen miles in our rear.
I do not propose to linger over the remainder of the journey; if the account were a tithe as tedious as the actual ride I should lose all my readers. As far as Captain Courcy and his friends were concerned the paper was safe; they were not in the least likely to catch us, and if they did, Mazarin had as many friends as foes in that part of the country. Our chief danger now came from the highwaymen who prowled about the roads, and twice we were attacked by these worthies, who, however, upon finding us well-armed and resolute to defend ourselves, quickly moved off.
It was, I think, on the fifth morning from leaving Mézieres that we rode into Bruhl, and being directed to the Cardinal's residence, encountered Roland Belloc, who at first did not recognise me.
"Have you quite forgotten me?" said I.
"De Lalande? Is it possible? I understood you were still in Paris."
"I was there until a few days ago. But where is the Cardinal? I have a letter for him, and as soon as it is delivered I want to go to bed."
"You shall see him at once, follow me."
"Put the horses up somewhere, Pillot," I said, and throwing the reins to him, followed Belloc.
Several French gentlemen wearing Mazarin's colours lounged about; the courtyard was filled with soldiers, and sentries were stationed at the entrance. As for the Cardinal himself he looked very little like a beaten man.
"M. de Lalande," he purred in his silkiest tones, as Belloc showed me into the room. "You have been a long time doing my errand!"
"A sword-thrust in the side kept me in bed some weeks," I replied, "and on my return to the city I found that your Eminence was no longer there."
"Paris had grown unhealthy," said he smiling, "so I sought the purer air of the country. You, I believe, preferred the quiet seclusion of the Bastille."
"The choice was none of mine, my Lord."
"No? And so you have come to share my fortunes again?"
"I have brought your Eminence a letter from Le Tellier," and I handed him the document, which I had previously taken from its hiding-place.
Opening the note, he read the communication quickly, and, turning to me with a smile, exclaimed: "De Lalande, I certainly must keep you by my side! Positively, you always bring me good-luck. I am deeply in your debt, but my secretary shall settle our account. You must don the green scarf and join my body-guard."
This was a great honour, and I thanked him warmly, but he interrupted me with a laugh, saying, "It is well, in these troublous times, to have a skilful sword to rely on, and I have proved the worth of yours. You will find your comrades brave youths and all anxious to distinguish themselves. Pardieu! Condé has made a huge blunder and played into my hands nicely. Request M. Belloc to find you quarters—and now I must deal immediately with my correspondence."
Thus it was that I came to take service again with Mazarin, and to wear the green scarf in many a hot encounter.
Sturdy old Belloc was delighted to have me under his charge, and, as there was no room at Mazarin's residence, he arranged that I should stay at the inn where Pillot had stationed the horses.
"And now," he said, "get some breakfast and go straight to bed. I will come over during the evening for a chat. I am curious to learn how you fared in Paris."
"The story will surprise you, but I am too tired to tell it now."
"Yes," said he, kindly, "you evidently need a long rest."
It was strange to get into bed without feeling any cause for alarm. From sheer force of habit I placed my weapons handy, but there was no barricading of the door, or listening for the sound of stealthy footsteps, and almost before my head touched the pillow I was fast asleep. Pillot, whose powers of endurance were marvellous, wakened me early in the evening, and when M. Belloc paid his promised visit, all traces of my recent fatigue had vanished.
The old soldier displayed intense interest in my story, especially to those parts relating to the plot against Condé and my cousin's death.
"I am sorry for Henri," he said, "he was a bit of a rascal, but a brave fellow for all that, and he stood by the Abbé from the beginning. However, things have altered now, and before six months have passed Mazarin will be in Paris again. Condé will make a stiff fight, but we are bound to win, and if you live your fortune is made."
"Unless Mazarin suffers from a lapse of memory," I remarked. "So far his payments have been made mostly in promises, which do little towards keeping a full purse."
At this M. Belloc laughed, but he assured me that when the day of reckoning came I should have no cause to complain.
For several weeks now I stayed idly at Bruhl, having nothing to do beyond an occasional turn of duty, which was really more a matter of form than of aught else.
Underneath the peaceful surface there were, to shrewd observers, signs of a stirring agitation. Couriers came and went by night and day; noblemen of high rank made mysterious visits, stayed a few hours, and then disappeared; a rumour arose that the Cardinal had actually been recalled to Court. It was even said that the order was contained in the letter I had carried from Paris, but on that point I was still in ignorance. By degrees, however, it became plain that the Cardinal had resolved to return and I learned from Belloc that Marshal Hocquincourt was busy raising an army to conduct him across France.
No one was more pleased to receive this news than Pillot, who could not live happily without excitement. He uttered no complaint, but I knew he was longing to be back in his loved Paris, from which he had never before been so long absent. To Pillot the walls of the capital bounded the one oasis in a desert world.
One evening, early in December, Belloc ordered me to be ready for a start the next morning. The die was cast; Mazarin had made up his mind, and I was to form one of the advance-guard in the journey to Sedan.
"Bravo!" cried Pillot, joyfully; "it is time we moved, monsieur. I am beginning to forget what Paris is like."
During the evening he was in a state of excitement, polishing my weapons and setting them in order, running to the stables to attend to the animals, and packing food for consumption on the march. As for sleeping, I am nearly sure that he did not close his eyes all night.
The advance-guard formed a goodly cavalcade. Most of my comrades were either sons of noblemen, or at least cadets of some distinguished house. They were well-mounted and richly dressed, and all wore the green scarf of Mazarin. Like Pillot, they were delighted at the idea of returning to Paris again, and gave no thought to the fact that many of them would never reach the city walls.
M. Belloc remained with the Cardinal, but I had made several new friends, and the journey, though full of peril, was pleasant enough. We youngsters laughed and joked, formed plans for the future, defeated Condé many times over—in imagination—and, I think, each of us secretly felt sure of becoming a Marshal of France. The older ones shook their heads, foretelling a long and difficult campaign, but we paid scant heed to their melancholy prophecies.
Pillot, who travelled with the attendants, made me an object of envy to my comrades. Never was there such a capital servant or one so full of contrivances. Once, through some stupid mistake, we were compelled to halt for the night on a dreary, barren waste. It was bitterly cold, being almost mid-winter; we had no tents, and indeed no other shelter than our cloaks.
The young nobles stamped about in high dudgeon, bidding their attendants light fires and bring food, though there was no wood to be seen, and the last of the provisions had been eaten in the morning. The poor lackeys raced about here and there endeavouring to accomplish what was quite out of the question, but the exercise at least kept them warm. I did not call Pillot, and, indeed, two minutes after the order to halt he had vanished. I thought it odd, but made no remark, and dismounting like the others walked about briskly to restore the circulation in my numbed limbs.
Presently some one nudged my elbow, and a voice whispered softly, "Let monsieur choose three of his friends and follow me."
Rather astonished, I sought out three of my comrades and we followed the dwarf, who led us perhaps two hundred yards, and stopped at a sheltered gully.
"Those who come first get the best seats," said he, and going down on his knees fumbled about for a time, till at last we broke into an exclamation of delight.
"A fire!" cried one.
"Pillot, you are a genius!" said I, and the other two declared he ought to be made a nobleman.
How he managed it was a mystery, but there was the fire blazing cheerfully, and in another moment a fowl spitted on a pike was roasting in the flames. We overwhelmed Pillot with thanks, and what he considered more to the purpose—gave him a share of the bird. It was rather tough and very stringy, but when one is hungry these defects pass as trifles.
Before long our fire attracted general attention, and as many as could crowded around it. Then, not wishing to be selfish, we vacated our seats in favour of others, and, wrapped in our mantles, lay down in the shelter of the hollow. This was our worst hardship, and at length we reached Sedan, where Mazarin, who arrived the next day, took up his abode with Marshal Fabert.
In the early part of the year 1652, we moved once more, and, crossing the frontier, re-entered France in triumph. Every day now added to our strength. We were joined by Marshal Hocquincourt, who commanded 5000 soldiers, each wearing the green scarf of the Cardinal. Here and there a number of officers rode up decorated with the same colours; town after town opened its gates at the first summons, and Mazarin might well have imagined that his period of exile was over.
"Well, Pillot," said I one evening, "what do you think of all this?"
"It is a fresh act in a comedy, monsieur, in which the next is not yet written."
"Not even thought out, perhaps."
"There is no thinking, monsieur, or the play would become a tragedy. As to your Mazarin, he may be flying for his life again to-morrow."
"I hardly think so; he has the young King on his side now."
"Well, well, monsieur, it matters little as long as we enter Paris. After all that is the chief thing."
I did not answer him, but my mind turned to the frightful misery of the district through which we were passing. The country lay unfilled for miles; the woods swarmed with robbers; the peasants were dying of starvation; the towns were filled with people who had neither work nor food. Everything except fighting was at a standstill: trade was dead, manufactures had ceased, and no one cared to sow the seed when others would eat the crops.
A young officer in Hocquincourt's army informed us that affairs were equally bad in Paris. Rendered desperate by hunger, the citizens were up in arms, and no one's life was safe for a day. By a stroke of good fortune the Queen-Mother had escaped from the city, and was now with the young King at Poitiers. Of Raoul I could learn nothing, but the Duke of Orleans was still see-sawing; now helping Condé, and again endeavouring to make terms with the King. In these circumstances I half expected to find my old comrade at Poitiers, where it was almost certain John Humphreys would be.
Meanwhile we marched peacefully through the country, and the friends of Condé, if the rebel prince possessed any friends in these parts, remained very quiet, and most of the people cheered Mazarin as loudly as they had before hooted him. At Poitiers itself we had a magnificent reception. We marched along with drums beating and banners flying; the road was lined with throngs of excited people cheering madly for the army of the Cardinal, and presently a loud cry announced the coming of the King.
Thunders of applause arose on all sides, and people screamed themselves hoarse shouting, "Vive le Roi!" "Vive Mazarin!"
I caught a glimpse of the boy king and his young brother as they joined the Cardinal, and rode with him to the town, where the Queen waited at a window to see him pass. It must have been a proud moment for the man who had once been ignominiously expelled from France.
As soon as the procession broke up, I instructed Pillot where to stable the horses, and went about seeking Raoul and John Humphreys. The town was filled with soldiers and officers of the Court, while thousands of the troops were quartered in the neighbouring villages. I met several old friends, but not Raoul, when suddenly I heard a hearty, "How are you, De Lalande?" and there was the smiling face of an officer of the Queen's Guards.
"John Humphreys!" I exclaimed, and then grasping the meaning of his new uniform, "you have received a commission? Splendid! I knew from the first it must come. Presently, my dear fellow, you must tell me all about it, but first, do you know anything of Raoul Beauchamp? Is he still at the Luxembourg, or has he joined the King?"
"Turenne has given him a commission in the royal army, and he is quartered in one of the villages near. If you are not on duty we will visit him."
"With all my heart! I have nothing in particular to do before the morning."
"Very well; it is not far; we can walk easily."
The district round Poitiers had the appearance of a huge camp, and the white scarves of the King mingled with the green ones of the Cardinal. We moved with some difficulty, until, at last, getting clear of the crowd, we reached the road, or rather cart-track leading to the village.
"There he is!" cried Humphreys presently. "Just returned, I warrant, from visiting his troopers; he looks after them well," and, glancing ahead, I observed my old comrade about to enter the village inn.
"Raoul!" I shouted, "Raoul!" and at the sound he turned back to meet us.
"I told you that De Lalande would come to no harm!" exclaimed Humphreys with a laugh.
"He was as anxious as I, Albert," said Raoul. "We discovered that you had escorted the ladies to Aunay, but after that no one could guess what had become of you. Naturally, we expected to find you with the army."
"Instead of which I was at Bruhl with the Cardinal. I concluded Humphreys would guess what the secret service was."
"Come to my room," said Raoul; "we must hear your story."
As there could be no harm in mentioning the matter now, I related what had passed, and they were much amused by Pillot's trick at Verdu.
"But you must keep out of Courcy's way for a time," said Raoul. "I know him well, and he is a tremendous fire-eater. I expect he has joined Condé in the field by now."
"Where is D'Arçy?"
"At the Luxembourg, and thoroughly miserable. He hates the idea of supporting Condé against the King, but imagines he ought not to desert the Duke of Orleans. Most of his comrades came with me, but he would not. 'I am for Orleans,' he said, 'no matter whom he is against.' Of course, he is right in a way."
"Not at all," declared Humphreys. "Condé is a rebel, and has assisted the enemies of his own country. Every man should regard him as a traitor."
"Well," said Raoul frankly, "it was his trafficking with the Spaniards that decided me to fight against him. I am for France, whoever rules the country."
"I am for the King," said Humphreys. "My father taught me to say, 'For God and the King!' as soon as I could talk. That was my earliest lesson."
"And yet your people cut off their king's head!"
"A set of sour knaves," he cried, "but the finest fighting men in the world! You should have seen them at Naseby with their leader, Cromwell! Old Noll we call him; he rules the country now, while Prince Charles, the rightful king, is here in exile."
"When our own troubles are settled we will set your prince on his throne," laughed Raoul. "Mazarin will provide him with an army, and Albert and I will obtain commissions in it. Then we shall see your country for ourselves."
"Ah," exclaimed Humphreys, "you do not understand the English any more than I understand your Parisians. If Prince Charles crossed the water now with a French army, he would never be king; his own friends would fight against him. He must wait awhile till his people have recovered their senses, then they will beg him to return."
"By the way," said I, "you have not told me yet how you won your commission."
"A lucky accident; a mere trifle; what you call a bagatelle."
"Have you not heard?" inquired Raoul. "I must relate the story myself, as our friend here is as modest as brave. The affair occurred at Montrond, and the whole camp talked of it."
"Things were very dull just then," interrupted Humphreys.
"We were besieging the town," continued Raoul, "and one night the enemy made a sortie. It took us by surprise; our outposts were rushed, a dozen officers fell, and the troops were panic-stricken. General Pallnau was with the Court, and the next in command lost his head. As it chanced our friend was staying with me that night, and he stopped the rout."
"No, no," said the Englishman, with a smile; "he is making too much of it altogether."
"He saved the army at least. My quarters happened to be on a hill. Condé's troops were pouring towards it; half our men had scattered, and the others were wavering, when Humphreys sprang to the front, calling us to rally. A few of us ran up, and only just in time. The enemy, perceiving we held the key to the position, swarmed to the attack. We, knowing how much depended on every minute's delay, stood our ground. Once we rolled them back, but they came again. Our men fell fast, but Humphreys was a host in himself, and through him we held on till the runaways had time to re-form. Every one declared he had saved the army, and he received his commission on the field."
"And the credit was as much Raoul's as mine," said Humphreys, "but things go like that in this world. I suppose, now that Mazarin's troops have reinforced us, we shall march south and fight Condé."
"It is possible, though there is a whisper that we are to move on Angers. I wish we three could keep together."
"It would be splendid," said Raoul, "but we must make the most of our opportunities," which, as long as the army remained in the neighbourhood of Poitiers, we did.
Very soon, however, we advanced on Angers, and having captured that town removed to Saumur. Here we were joined by Marshal Turenne, and being too weak to reduce the important town of Orleans proceeded to Gien. Raoul was quartered with his regiment some miles away, but Humphreys and I were both stationed in the town. I was spending an hour with him one evening when Pillot, in a tremendous hurry, came with a message that M. Belloc wished to see me immediately.
"It must be something important, monsieur," said the dwarf, "as M. Belloc ordered me to saddle the horses."
I found my old friend in a state of great agitation, and without giving me time to speak he asked, "Do you know where Condé is?"
"In Guienne, monsieur."
"So we all thought, but it is a mistake. He is hurrying to take command of the army of the Loire. A courier has just arrived with the information, and we are despatching parties to capture him, dead or alive. He is travelling with six companions, and will endeavour to reach Chatillon. If he can be caught, we shall finish the war in a week. You are well acquainted with the prince?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Take half a dozen troopers; ride to the bridge at Chatillon, and let no one pass till I send permission."
"Very good, monsieur," and within ten minutes I was tearing along at the head of my men as fast as my horse could gallop.
It was still fairly light when we arrived at the spot, and, leaving two of the troopers on the bank to look after the horses, I ambushed the others, and took up my own position so that no one could pass without being challenged. Soon the light faded, the air grew chill, a gray mist rose from the river. The men crouched silently in their hiding places; the only sounds were the melancholy lapping of the water, and the mournful cry of an occasional night-bird. M. Belloc's commission was certainly an honour, but this watching was dreary work, and I thought with regret of my cosy quarters.
It must have been an hour past midnight when Pillot, who had kept me company, whispered softly, "Listen, monsieur! Do you hear the beat of hoofs? I should say there are a couple of horsemen coming this way."
"Or more. No, there is only one."
"The others have stopped."
"Perhaps there was only one in the first instance. He is drawing nearer now. Listen, he has reached the bridge. Stand well behind me, so that he cannot observe you."
The horseman had approached at a trot; now he slowed down to a walking pace, and advanced carelessly, humming a tune as if there was no such thing as danger in the world.
With a loud "Qui Vive?" I sprang from my hiding-place and clutched his horse's bridle.
"An officer of the King," he replied coolly, and the white scarf on his arm showed up in the darkness. "I have come from the Marshal to ask for your report. I can testify at least that you keep an excellent watch."
The man's voice sounded familiar, but concluding we had met at the Court, I was in all innocence about to answer when Pillot, touching me lightly, whispered "Captain Courcy!"
In a flash I remembered, but it was too late. The captain's sharp ears had caught the words; with a violent wrench he twisted my arm from the bridle, and turning his horse's head dashed back at headlong speed.
"Stop him!" I yelled, "stop him!" but the rascal knocked over two of my men like rabbits, and disappeared along the bank of the river.
"Condé is not far off," said Pillot; "he feared a trap and sent the captain on in advance."
"Mount, and ride after them. Take a man with you, keep on their track and pick up all the King's friends you meet. Say it is the order of Marshal Turenne. Two of you fellows get your horses and cross to the other side of the river. Keep your eyes open and spread the news that Condé is hiding in the neighbourhood. There is a fortune for the man who captures him."
The troopers mounted and galloped off; Pillot had already disappeared, and I was left with one man to attend to my wounded troopers. Fortunately they were not seriously hurt, though of little more use that night. As it chanced, however, nothing further occurred, and when Belloc sent to relieve us, I rode back feeling that I had missed a grand opportunity. My troopers accomplished nothing, but Pillot, who did not return for several hours, brought the certain news that Condé, accompanied by several gentlemen, had crossed the river.
"Never mind," said M. Belloc kindly, "you did your best, and no one can do more. Besides, even if you had caught this Captain Courcy, the prince would have escaped," which was quite true, though the reflection did not make my feelings any the more friendly towards the daring captain.
The day after Condé's narrow escape I received a visit from Raoul. He was as lively as ever, and in high spirits at the prospects of fresh work. My connection with Mazarin prevented me from sharing in many of the minor engagements, but Raoul missed nothing. His courage was a proverb among Turenne's gentlemen, while the soldiers followed without question on the most dangerous enterprise if Raoul Beauchamp led the way.
"What is going on now?" I inquired.
"A general advance, I believe; at least we have received orders to move; the Marshal does not like to sit still."
I laughed at that, for Turenne was a general who allowed neither his own troops nor the enemy any rest. Ambush and surprise, hot attack and feigned retreat, he employed them all, keeping every one busy. Raoul had not heard of Condé's movements, and when I told him, he exclaimed, "We can keep our eyes open now, Albert; there will be little time for sleeping when the prince takes command of his army. A good thing for us that Turenne is on our side. Most likely that accounts for our advance. Don't you envy us?"
"Well, I should not object if the Green Scarves were sent to the front."
"You will have your chance," said he laughing, and wishing me farewell, departed to join his men.
The town was a scene of unusual activity that day. Soldiers were moving about in all directions. Here a column of infantry trudged along; there a squadron of horse passed at the trot; occasionally a gaily-dressed gentleman with a white or green scarf on his arm flew by, bound on some errand of importance. Once I met Humphreys, who, much to his disgust, had received orders to remain behind with a number of the Queen's Guards.
"There will be stirring business soon," said he. "Turenne is moving, and I hear that Condé has arrived from the south on purpose to oppose him. It will be a battle of giants, and here are we tied up in this wretched hole doing nothing. We shan't even see the fight, much less take part in it."
"Why, you are becoming a regular fire-eater! Have you not had enough fighting?"
"I only object to all the work being done by others. I would rather take my own share. What are you supposed to be doing?"
"Nothing, and for once in a way it is a very pleasant occupation. Have you met Raoul?"
"No, and I expect he is a dozen miles off by now. He is in luck; his squadron acts as a kind of bodyguard to the Marshal. I had no idea that Beauchamp was such a daring fellow."
"He is like the rest, anxious to make a name for himself. Ah, here comes Pillot to warn me that it is my turn for duty."
Gien was still crowded with numbers of the Queen's troops, gentlemen of the King, and Mazarin's bodyguard, in addition to the hosts of servants and attendants on the Court. Hundreds watched Turenne's advance, and almost every one seemed to imagine that the Marshal had little to do but march peacefully to Paris.
From the gossip among Mazarin's gentlemen next morning I gathered that Turenne had halted at a place called Briare, while Hocquincourt, our second general, had advanced to Blenau.
"The Marshal is preparing his plans," exclaimed one of our fellows complacently, "and if Condé's army stays to fight it will be soundly beaten. I prophesy that within a month we shall be inside Paris."
I remembered these boastful words and laughed, when, a night or two afterwards, Pillot burst into my room and wakened me rather brusquely.
"Get up, monsieur," said he, "Condé has sent to announce his arrival."
"Condé," I growled sleepily. "Where? What do you mean? What is all the noise outside?"
"The town has gone mad with fright—that is all. Monsieur must be quick in dressing."
In a few minutes I was dressed and out of the house. Pillot was right—the town certainly had gone mad. The street was packed with people surging this way and that, pushing, struggling, and asking questions. There were hundreds of rumours in the air: Condé had crept into Gien, and had hanged Mazarin in his own room. The Queen-Mother was a prisoner with her two sons, and all her Guards had died fighting. I had hardly witnessed such a tumult even in Paris. Couriers and lackeys, coachmen and grooms; soldiers, citizens, peasants, and ladies of the Court, were all grouped together, making the oddest spectacle. No one really knew what had happened, though a hundred people were willing to tell.
I would have gone straight to the Cardinal's quarters, but such a course was out of the question; so, following Pillot, I found myself on a piece of high ground to the left of the town.
"Ah!" said I, drawing a deep breath, "now it is plain what has occurred. You are right, Pillot, that is a message from Condé, sure enough!"
The night was dark, but far away in the distance the gloom was lit up by numerous tongues of fire that extended for miles. Now one died away, but the next minute a fresh one shot skyward, and in places several merged together in one broad flame.
"Condé is amusing himself and providing us with a fine spectacle," said Pillot. "It seems to me that the prince has lost neither his cunning nor his boldness. Turenne is a good soldier, but it looks as if Condé were a better."
"Turenne is not over there. Condé has fallen on General Hocquincourt, and things will be serious for the Marshal."
"And for the Cardinal," laughed Pillot, who never saw any good in Mazarin; "he must run, monsieur, and fast, too."
"So must we—he will need help. Come, let us find him."
This, however, was not a simple matter, and we were nearly an hour in forcing a way to Mazarin's rooms. They were empty, and the frightened servants had no idea where their master was. Some asserted he had gone to reassure the Queen; others that he had galloped off to the battlefield, at which Pillot laughed unkindly.
Turning back I encountered Humphreys, who, with a dozen troopers, was clearing a passage through the crowd. In answer to my question he said that Mazarin had ridden toward the river, where he himself was going; so, bidding Pillot stay behind, I joined company with the Englishman.
"Well," said I, as we rode along, "Gien is not such a humdrum place after all!"
"Faith! this Condé has played a clever game. A courier has brought word that Hocquincourt's army has vanished, while Turenne has only about four thousand men with which to oppose fourteen thousand. And look at this rabble! Out of the way there, or we will ride you down!"
"Have you had orders to join Turenne?"
"No," he answered, with a touch of scorn. "My duty is to escort the carriages, which are all on the other side of the river. The Queen has sent for them, so that her ladies can escape if Turenne gets beaten—which he will. Ah! there is Mazarin with the King. Look how the boy manages his horse! He should make a fine cavalry leader in time."
Leaving Humphreys, I turned aside to the edge of the plain, where the boy king and Mazarin were surrounded by a group of gentlemen. Louis was flushed and excited, but he showed no fear, and, indeed, I heard that he begged hard for permission to gallop to the scene of conflict. At frequent intervals Mazarin despatched a gentleman on some errand. His face was pale, and he looked anxious, which was not to be wondered at, since the safety of the Court depended on so slender a thread.
Presently, catching sight of me, he said, "De Lalande, come here. I see you have a good horse. Do not spare it, but ride top speed to Marshal Turenne, and inquire if he has any message for His Majesty."
"Yes, my Lord!" I answered, and saluting, rode off quickly.
The confusion was worse here than in the town. Crowds of ladies, attended by their servants, waited anxiously for the carriages; boxes and bales lay strewn around, and directly a carriage appeared the whole mob rushed at it, fighting like the canaille of Paris. Once past the bridge, however, it was possible to increase the pace, and at Briare I began to make inquiries as to where the Marshal was most likely to be found.
"On the plain between this and Blenau," said an officer who had received orders to stop at Briare with a few troops. "Do you bring any fresh news from Gien?"
"None, except that the place is upside down with fear. Condé has managed to startle the Court."
"He would do more than that if we were under any general but Turenne, and even he will have need of all his skill."
Far away in the distance the houses were still burning, and now and again a fresh sheet of flame would leap skyward. Here and there I met with riderless horses, and men bringing in wounded comrades. They all told the same story. Condé had fallen upon Hocquincourt, and simply swept his army away. His quarters were in ruins, many of his infantry were killed, and his cavalry had become a mere rabble.
"Everything depends on Turenne," said a wounded officer whom I knew slightly. "If he can hold his ground, all may yet be well, but the odds are terribly against him."
At length I reached the plain where the Marshal had drawn up his troops, and, though quite unversed in real soldiering, I could see that he had chosen a position of great strength. Beyond the plain were a marsh and a wood—one on the left, the other on the right—with a narrow causeway over which the enemy must pass, between them. The wood was filled with infantry, while a battery of artillery was stationed so as to command the causeway.
Noticing a group of officers at the entrance to the plain, I rode over and asked where I should have the most chance of finding Marshal Turenne.
"With the cavalry, monsieur," one of them answered courteously, and glancing at my green scarf, added, "Do you come from Gien?"
"Yes, with a message from the Cardinal."
"Ah," said another, "I suppose this business has frightened the Court? Condé has made a good start, but he will meet his equal now."
"The Marshal is overweighted," remarked a third man, gloomily. "His Majesty can trust us to die here, but I doubt if we can stop the prince from breaking through. He has four men to our one."
This did not sound very cheerful, and before long I heard that several officers of the highest rank were just as doubtful of success. However, my business lay with the Marshal himself, so I advanced to the causeway, and found that he was at the farther end with two or three squadrons of cavalry. He was talking earnestly with a group of officers, so I waited till he had finished, and then, with a salute, gave him the Cardinal's message.
At first he appeared angry, but gradually a smile stole over his face, and he exclaimed, "Corbleu! His Eminence is a very glutton for information. I have just sent the Marquis of Pertui with a despatch to His Majesty, and there is nothing fresh to add. A battle is not fought in five minutes!"
I bowed low, and presently he added kindly, "You can stay here: in an hour or so I may have some information to send back."
Saluting him in answer, I backed my horse to the rear of the group, when some one cried, "De Lalande!" and glancing round I observed Raoul, with his troopers stationed close at hand.
"What are you doing here?" he asked gaily, as I went over to him. "I understood you were guarding Mazarin!"
"I have brought a message for the Marshal, and am to wait for an answer."
"You will see some hot work presently. Ah, there is Bordel! He brings fresh news of the prince, I warrant."
An officer, followed by an escort of troopers, had just galloped in from the country behind Blenau. His horse was covered with foam, and he himself was bleeding from a wound, but he jumped lightly to the ground, saluted, and began talking earnestly to the Marshal. We could not hear what was said, but his information was evidently serious, for Turenne immediately sent off several of his staff.
"Condé is approaching!" exclaimed Raoul, and even while he was speaking an officer galloped over with orders from Turenne for the squadron to hold itself in readiness.
I had met with numerous adventures in my short career, but had never witnessed a real battle, and I was on fire with excitement. Raoul desired me to return to the rear, saying there was no need to expose myself to danger, but I shook my head and resolved to stay with him.
With a few of his staff the Marshal advanced beyond the end of the causeway, but presently came riding back, and every man knew instinctively that Condé was quickly approaching. Presently we caught a glimpse of his cavalry, and at sight of the serried ranks of horsemen, most of our hearts, I think, began to droop. It seemed to me that, by one swift rush across the causeway, they would have us completely at their mercy.
As if of the same opinion Turenne ordered us to retire, and we fell back slowly, while the hostile cavalry halted to gather strength for the spring. Then came the order to increase the pace, and our men sullenly obeyed. They did not like retreating, even to escape from death. Raoul looked puzzled, and from time to time I noticed him glance back over his shoulder.
Suddenly a whisper of "Here they come!" ran through the ranks; our pace grew faster, and soon we were flying like timid hares before a pack of dogs.
Condé's cavalry made a splendid show. Squadron after squadron, fifteen or twenty in number, advanced with pennons flying and banners waving in the breeze. The sun shone on the steel-tipped lances, and the bared swords flashed like a forest of steel. Nearer and nearer thundered the horses: their hoofs rang hard on the causeway, and I expected every moment to hear the roar of our artillery. But every gun was dumb; not one opened its mouth, and not a single musket shot came from the shelter of the thick wood.
What did it all mean? I did not know; in the excitement, did not even guess; it was enough that Turenne with his handful of troopers was flying before Condé's host. Still we maintained our order, and though riding fast rode together, every man preserving his proper place and distance. Suddenly there came an order from the Marshal, and like a flash we turned with our horses' heads facing the exulting enemy.
"Charge!" shouted a voice, and without break or pause we thundered back, waving our swords and yelling, "Vive le Roi!"
It seemed a mad thing to do, but Turenne was with us, and Turenne was worth an army. Condé's troopers tried to gather themselves against the shock, but, confident of victory, they were riding in loose order, and we gave them no time to close their ranks. Crash! We went into them like a thunderbolt, and the bravest rebel there could not stand against the furious onslaught.
Turenne fought like an ordinary trooper, and as for Raoul, he outshone himself. I tried hard to keep up with him, but he outpaced me and every horseman in his squadron.
"Vive le Roi!" he shouted, and "Vive le Roi!" answered back his toiling troopers.
Once I lost sight of him in the press and feared he had gone down, but the next instant I heard his battle-cry again, and there he was, amidst a throng of foes on the very edge of the causeway. Another order from Turenne brought us to a halt, and we cheered frantically as the broken rebels crowded together in their efforts to escape.
Suddenly Turenne's plan was made clear. A noise of thunder broke on our ears; the air was filled with smoke and flame, the struggling horsemen were bowled over by the great iron balls from the battery. The causeway had become a lane of death; men and horses fell to the ground; the confusion grew terrible; Condé's splendid cavalry was a mere rabble, struggling and fighting to get clear of the awful passage. Those who succeeded in breaking through galloped off swiftly, but, when the gunners ceased their work of destruction, the lane was carpeted with the bodies of the dying and dead.
"Now, young sir," exclaimed Turenne, turning to me, "you may return and tell the Cardinal there is nothing to fear. The prince is thoroughly beaten and can attempt no more to-day. His Majesty can sleep in peace at Gien."
I would gladly have stayed longer, for Raoul was being carried off by some of his troopers, and I feared he was badly wounded. However, in the army one has to obey; so, gathering up my reins, I galloped back towards Gien, spreading the news of the victory on the way. In the town itself the crowds of frightened people thronged around me, pressing so closely that I could barely proceed at a walking pace.
"The news, monsieur?" they cried. "What of the battle? Has Condé won? Tell us what the prince is doing!"
Again and again I repeated that the prince was defeated, but they seemed not to understand, or understanding, not to believe. By slow degrees I reached Mazarin's apartments, and the Cardinal, agitated and almost trembling, advanced quickly to meet me.
"The news?" said he. "Is it good or ill?"
"Good, your Eminence," I answered, and at that he bade me accompany him into the presence of the boy-king and the Queen-Mother, to whom I repeated Turenne's message. Then they asked about the fight, and I, to the best of my ability, gave them a description of the battle.
"My son," said the Queen-Mother gravely, "you must be very grateful to Marshal Turenne. He has placed the crown a second time on your head."
As soon as I was dismissed from the royal presence I sought Pillot, and told him we must ride at once to Blenau to look for Raoul.
"M. Beauchamp wounded, monsieur? Is he hurt very much?"
"That is what I want to find out."
We were silent on the journey; I was greatly troubled about Raoul, and the dwarf did not care to disturb my thoughts. We met some of the wounded being taken to Gien and Briare; others were at Blenau, and amongst these we found Raoul.
"M. Beauchamp?" said the surgeon to whom I spoke. "Yes, he is here, waiting to have his wounds dressed; he is a lucky fellow; there is nothing serious; he will return to Gien to-morrow. In less than a month he will be in the saddle again. You can see him if you wish."
Raoul's eyes flashed with pleasure at my approach. He was very pale from loss of blood, but was able to talk, and spoke hopefully of returning to duty in a few days. He did not tell me, however, what I afterwards learned from others, that the Marshal had paid him a visit and had spoken in the highest terms of his bravery.
As soon as his wounds were dressed and he was made comfortable I returned to Gien, in order to be at hand in case the Cardinal needed my services.