Henty George Alfred
Saint Bartholomew's Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars
Philip rode on across the bridge, and entered the gates without question. Up to this time, his followers had kept close behind him; but now, in accordance with his instructions, they dropped behind. He continued his way to the principal square, rode up to an inn, entered the courtyard, and gave his horse to the stableman.
"Give it a feed," he said, "and put it in the stable. I shall not require it until the afternoon."
Then he went into the public room, called for food and wine, and sat down. The tables were well nigh full, for there were many strangers in the town. After a first glance at the newcomer, none paid him any attention. Pierre and the two men had, in accordance with his instructions, passed the inn they had seen him enter, and put up at other places.
There was a loud buzz of conversation, and Philip listened attentively to that between four gentlemen who had just sat down at the next table to him. Three of them had come in together, and the fourth joined them, just as Philip's meal was brought to him.
"Well, have you heard any news at the governor's, Maignan?" one of them asked the last comer.
"Bad news. Conde and the Admiral are not letting the grass grow under their feet. They have captured not only Niort, as we heard yesterday, but Parthenay."
"Peste! That is bad news, indeed. What a blunder it was to let them slip through their fingers, when they might have seized them with two or three hundred men, in Burgundy."
"It seems to me that they are making just the same mistake here," another put in. "As Jeanne of Navarre is well nigh as dangerous as the Admiral himself, why don't they seize her and her cub, and carry them to Paris?"
"Because they hope that she will go willingly, of her own accord, Saint Amand. La Motte-Fenelon has been negotiating with her, for the last fortnight, on behalf of the court. It is clearly far better that she should go there of her own will, than that she should be taken there a prisoner. Her doing so would seem a desertion of the Huguenot cause, and would be a tremendous blow to them.
"On the other hand, if she were taken there as a prisoner, it would drive many a Huguenot to take up arms who is now content to rest quiet. And moreover, the Protestant princes of Germany, and Elizabeth of England would protest; for whatever the court may say of the Admiral, they can hardly affirm that Jeanne of Navarre is thinking of making war against Charles for any other reason than the defence of her faith. Besides, she can do no harm at Nerac; and we can always lay hands on her, when we like. At any rate, there is no fear of her getting farther north. The rivers are too well guarded for that."
"I don't know," another said, "after the way in which Conde and the Admiral, though hampered with women and children, made their way across France, I should never be surprised at anything. You see, there is not a place where she has not friends. These pestilent Huguenots are everywhere. She will get warning of danger, and guides across the country–peasants who know every byroad through the fields, and every shallow in the rivers. It would be far better to make sure of her and her son, by seizing them at Nerac."
"Besides," Saint Amand said, "there are reports of movements of Huguenots all over Guyenne; and I heard a rumour, last night, that the Seneschal of Armagnac has got a considerable gathering together. These Huguenots seem to spring out of the ground. Six weeks ago, no one believed that there was a corner of France where they could gather a hundred men together, and now they are everywhere in arms."
"I think," Maignan said, "that you need not be uneasy about the Queen of Navarre. I am not at liberty to say what I have heard; but I fancy that, before many hours, she will be on her way to Paris, willingly or unwillingly. As for the seneschal, he and the others will be hunted down, as soon as this matter is settled. A day or two, sooner or later, will make no difference there and, until the queen is taken, the troops will have to stay in their present stations.
"My only fear is that, seeing she can have no hope of making her way north, she will slip away back to Navarre again. Once there, she could not be taken without a deal of trouble. Whatever is to be done must be done promptly. Without direct orders from the court, no step can be taken in so important a matter. But the orders may arrive any hour, and I think you will see that there will be no loss of time in executing them."
"And Nerac could not stand a long siege, even if it were strongly garrisoned; and the handful of men she has got with her could not defend the walls for an hour. I hope she may not take the alarm too soon; for as you say, once back in Navarre it would be difficult, indeed, to take her. It is no joke hunting a bear among the mountains; and as her people are devoted to her, she could play hide and seek among the valleys and hills for weeks–ay, or months–before she could be laid hold of.
"It is well for our cause, Maignan, that she is not a man. She would be as formidable a foe as the Admiral himself. Huguenot as she is, one can't help respecting her. Her husband was a poor creature, beside her. He was ready to swallow any bait offered him; while, even if it would seat her son on the throne of France, she would not stir a hand's breadth from what she thinks right."
Philip finished his meal, and then went out into the square. The news was satisfactory. No order had yet arrived for the seizure of the queen; and though one was evidently looked for, to arrive in the course of a few hours, it would then be too late to take any steps until nightfall, at the earliest; and by nine o'clock the queen would have left Nerac.
No movement was intended at present against the seneschal, nor did the idea that the queen might attempt to join him seem to be entertained. It was possible, however, that such a suspicion might have occurred to the governor, and that some troops might secretly be sent off, later. He must try to learn something more.
Confident that he could not be suspected of being ought but what he appeared, a Catholic gentleman–for his garments were of much brighter hue than those affected by the Huguenots–he strolled quietly along, pausing and looking into shops when he happened to pass near groups of soldiers or gentlemen talking together. So he spent two or three hours. No word had reached his ear indicating that any of the speakers were anticipating a sudden call to horse.
He saw that Pierre was following him, keeping at some distance away, and pausing whenever he paused. He saw no signs of the other two men, and doubted not that they were, as he had ordered, spending their time in wine shops frequented by the soldiers, and listening to their talk.
Feeling convinced that no orders had been given for the assembly of any body of troops, he sat down for a time at a small table in front of one of the principal wine shops, and called for a bottle of the best wine; thinking that the fact that he was alone would be less noticeable, so, than if he continued to walk the streets. Presently a party of four or five gentlemen sat down at a table a short distance off. He did not particularly notice them at first; but presently, glancing that way, saw one of them looking hard at him, and a thrill of dismay ran through him, as he recognized the gentleman addressed as Raoul, the leader of the party that had stopped him near Bazas. He had, however, presence of mind enough to look indifferently at him, and then to continue sipping his wine.
The possibility that this gentleman, with his troop, should have come to Agen had never entered his mind; and though the encounter was a most unfortunate one, he trusted that the complete change in his appearance would be sufficient to prevent recognition; although it was evident, by the gaze fixed on him, that the gentleman had an idea that his face was familiar. To move now would heighten suspicion, if any existed; and he therefore sat quiet, watching the people who passed in front of him, and revolving in his mind the best course to be taken, should Raoul address him. The latter had just spoken to his cousin, who was sitting next to him.
"Do you know that young gentleman, Louis?" he asked. "I seem to know his face well; and yet he does not know me, for he just now glanced at me, without recognizing me. You know most of the gentry in this neighbourhood. Do you know him?"
"No, I cannot say that I do, Raoul; though I, too, seem to have a recollection of his face. It is a sort of face one remembers, too. I should think his family must belong to the north, for you do not often see men of that complexion about here. He looks very young, not above nineteen or twenty; but there is a look of earnestness and resolution, about his face, that would point to his being some years older."
Dismissing the matter from his mind, Raoul joined in the conversation round him. Presently he grasped his cousin's arm.
"I know where we saw the face now, Louis. He was one of the four fellows we stopped, two days since, near Bazas."
"Impossible, Raoul! Those men were peasants, though two of them had served for a time in the army; the others–" and he stopped.
"You see it yourself, Louis. One of the others was a dark, active man. The other was but a lad–a tall, well-built young fellow, with fair complexion and gray eyes. I thought of it afterwards, and wondered where he got that skin and hair from. I put it down that it was a trace of English blood, of which there is a good deal still left in Guyenne, and some of the other provinces they held, long ago."
"I certainly see the likeness, now you mention it, Raoul; but it can hardly be the same. This is a gentleman. He is certainly that, whoever he may be. How could a gentleman be masquerading about as a peasant?"
"That is what I am going to find out, Louis. He may have been a Huguenot, making his way down to join the Queen of Navarre at Nerac He may be one of her train there, who had gone out, in disguise, to reconnoitre the country and see what forces of ours were in the neighbourhood, and where posted. That may be his mission, here; but this time he has chosen to come in his proper attire."
"That can hardly be his attire, if he is one of Jeanne of Navarre's followers. He may have got a suit for the purpose, but assuredly the colours are too gay for a Huguenot in her train. For my part, I see nothing suspicious about his appearance. There, he is paying his reckoning, and going."
"And I am going after him," Raoul said, rising. "There is something strange about the affair, and there may be some plot. Do you come with me, Louis.
"Monsieur D'Estanges, I have a little matter of business on hand. Will you come with me?"
Chapter 12: An Escape From Prison
Glancing half round, as he turned away from the wine shop, Philip saw Raoul and two of his companions rising. He walked off in a leisurely manner and, a few paces farther, turned down a side street. He heard steps following him, and then a voice said:
"Hold, young sir. I would have a word with you."
Philip turned, with an expression of angry surprise.
"Are you addressing me, sir? I would have you know that am not accustomed to be spoken to, in that fashion; and that I bear an insult from no one."
Raoul laughed.
"Are you equally particular, sir, when you are going about in peasant's clothes?"
"I am not good at riddles, sir," Philip said haughtily, "and can only suppose that your object is to pick a quarrel with me; though I am not conscious of having given you offence. However, that matters little. I suppose you are one of those gallants who air their bravery when they think they can do so, with impunity. On the present occasion you may, perchance, find that you are mistaken. I am a stranger here, and know of no place where this matter can be settled, nor am I provided with a second; but I am quite content to place myself in the hands of one of these gentlemen, if they will act for me."
"I am sure, Raoul, there is some mistake," Louis began, putting his hand on his cousin's shoulder.
But the other shook it off, angrily. He was of a passionate and overbearing temper, and Philip's coolness, and the manner in which he had turned the tables upon him and challenged him to a duel, inflamed him to the utmost.
"Hands off, Louis," he said. "Do you think that I, Raoul de Fontaine, am to be crowed over by this youth? He has challenged me to fight, and fight he shall."
"You provoked him," Louis said firmly. "You gave him provocation such as no gentleman of honour could suffer. It was not for this that I came out with you, but because you said that you wished to unravel what may be a plot."
"I will cut it, which will be easier than unravelling it," Raoul replied. "It is shorter and easier work, to finish the matter with a sword thrust, than to provide for his being swung at the end of a rope."
"We had best waste no time in empty braggadocio," Philip said coldly, "but proceed at once to some quiet spot, where this matter can be settled, undisturbed."
"I think the young gentleman is right," Monsieur D'Estanges, a gentleman of the court, said gravely. "The matter has gone too far for anything else, now; and I am bound to say that your adversary, of whose name I am ignorant, has borne himself in a manner to merit my esteem; and that, as your cousin will of course act for you, I shall be happy to place my services at his disposal."
"Let us get beyond the gates," Raoul said abruptly, turning on his heel, and retracing his steps up the lane to the main street.
"I thank you, sir, for offering to stand by one of whose very name you are ignorant," Philip said as, accompanied by Monsieur D'Estanges, he followed the others. "It is, however, right that you should know it. It is Philip Fletcher. On my father's side I am English, on my mother's I am of noble French blood, being cousin to Francois de Laville, whose mother and mine were daughters of the Count de Moulins."
"Two distinguished families of Poitou," Monsieur D'Estanges said, courteously. "It needed not that, to tell me that you were of good blood. I regret much that this encounter is going to take place. Monsieur Raoul de Fontaine was in the wrong, in so rudely hailing you, and I cannot blame you for taking it up sharply; although, seeing your age and his, and that he is a good swordsman, it might have been more prudent to have overlooked his manner.
"Unless, indeed," and he smiled, "Monsieur Raoul was right, and that you are engaged on some weighty matter here, and preferred to run the risk of getting yourself killed rather than have it inquired into. The Countess of Laville and her son are both staunch Huguenots, and you may well be on business here that you would not care to have investigated.
"You have not asked my name, sir. It is Charles D'Estanges. I am a cousin of the Duc de Guise, and am naturally of the court party; but I can esteem a brave enemy, and regret to see one engaged in an encounter in which he must needs be overmatched."
"I am a fair swordsman, sir," Philip said; "though my arm may lack somewhat of the strength it will have, a few years later. But had it been otherwise, I should have still taken the course I have. I do not say your conjecture is a correct one, but at any rate I would prefer the most unequal fight to being seized and questioned. One can but be killed once, and it were better that it should be by a thrust in the open air than a long imprisonment, ending perhaps with death at the stake."
Monsieur D'Estanges said no more. In spite of his relationship with the Guises he, like many other French Catholic nobles, disapproved of the persecutions of the Huguenots, and especially of the massacres perpetrated by the lower orders in the towns, men for whom he had the profoundest contempt. He felt sorry for his companion, whose youth and fearless demeanour moved him in his favour; and who, he doubted not, had come to Agen to confer with some of the Huguenots, who were to be found in every town.
Issuing from the gates, they went for a quarter of a mile along the road, and then Raoul led the way into a small wood. Here, without a word being spoken, Raoul and Philip threw aside their cloaks and doublets.
"Gentlemen," Monsieur D'Estanges said, "surely this quarrel might be arranged without fighting. Monsieur de Fontaine addressed my principal, doubtless under a misapprehension, with some roughness, which was not unnaturally resented. If Monsieur de Fontaine will express his regret, which he certainly could do without loss of dignity, for the manner in which he spoke; my principal would, I am sure, gladly accept his apology."
"That is my opinion also," Louis de Fontaine said, "and I have already expressed it to my cousin."
"And I have already said that I will do nothing of the sort," Raoul said. "I am fighting not only in my own quarrel, but in that of the king; being well assured in my mind that this young man, whether he be, as he now appears, a gentleman of birth, or whether, as I saw him last, a peasant boy, is engaged in some plot hostile to his majesty."
"Then there is nothing more to be said," Monsieur D'Estanges said gravely; "but before you begin, I may tell you, Monsieur de Fontaine, that this gentleman belongs to a family no less noble than your own. He has confided to me his name and position, which I think it as well not to divulge.
"Now, Louis, we may as well stand aside. We have done our best to stop this quarrel, and to prevent what I cannot but consider a most unequal contest from taking place."
The last words were galling, in the extreme, to Raoul de Fontaine. Monsieur D'Estanges stood high at court, was a gentleman of unblemished reputation, and often appealed to on questions of honour; and this declaration that he considered the combat to be an unequal one was the more irritating, since he was himself conscious of the fact. However, he could not recoil now but, with an angry expression of face, drew his sword and stood on guard.
Philip was no less ready. The easy attitude he assumed, with his weight for the most part on his left leg, differed so widely from the forward attitude then in fashion among French duellists, that Monsieur D'Estanges, convinced that he knew nothing of swordplay, shrugged his shoulders pityingly. The moment, however, that the swords grated against each other; and Philip put aside, with a sharp turn of the wrist, a lunge with which his opponent intended at once to finish the combat, the expression of his face changed.
"The lad did not speak boastfully, when he said he was a fair swordsman," he muttered to himself. "He does not fight in our fashion, but at least he knows what he is about."
For some minutes the fight continued, Raoul's temper rising higher and higher, as he found every attack baffled by a foe he had despised, and who refused to fall back even an inch, however hotly he pressed him. He had at first intended either to wound or disarm him, but he soon fought to kill. At last there was a fierce rally, ending by Philip parrying a home thrust and, returning it with lightning swiftness, running Raoul de Fontaine through the body with such force that the hilt of his sword struck against his chest, and he sank lifeless to the ground.
"By our Lady, young gentleman," Monsieur D'Estanges exclaimed, "but you have done well! You said that you were a fair swordsman. Truly you are of the highest class. Raoul's temper has led him into many a duel, and he has always wounded or killed his man. Who could have thought that he would receive his death blow at the hands of a youth?
"But whom have we here? Peste! This is awkward."
As he spoke, Count Darbois, the governor of Agen, with a body of troopers, rode up. He had ridden to within a mile or two of Nerac and, questioning persons from the town, learned that everything was quiet there, and that no fresh body of Huguenots had arrived. He was on his way back when, hearing the clash of swords, he had ridden into the wood to inquire into its meaning.
"What is this?" he exclaimed.
"Why, what is this, Monsieur De Fontaine? Your cousin, Count Raoul, dead!"
Louis, who was leaning over his cousin, looked up.
"Alas! I fear that it is so, Monsieur le Comte. My poor cousin has fallen in a duel."
"What a misfortune, and at such a moment! Is it not scandalous that, at a time like this, when every gentleman's sword is needed in defence of our king and faith, they should indulge in private quarrels?
"And is it you, Monsieur D'Estanges, who has done his majesty this bad service?"
For by this time Philip had resumed his doublet and cloak.
"No. I only stood as second to his opponent, who has behaved fairly and honourably in the matter, as I am sure Count Louis will testify."
"Your word is quite sufficient, Monsieur D'Estanges. And who is this gentleman, who has thus slain one who had no mean reputation as a swordsman?"
"A young gentleman passing through Agen. The quarrel arose through a rencontre in the street. Count Raoul was, as was his nature, hasty, and put himself in the wrong. The gentleman resented his language, and a meeting was at once arranged. Count Louis and myself were with Raoul, and as his opponent was alone, and it was not desirable to draw others into the matter, I offered to act as his second; and he accepted it, at once. We came here. Count Louis and I made a final effort to persuade Raoul to apologize for his language. He refused to do so, and they fought, and you see the consequence."
"But who is this stranger?" the governor asked again.
"Count Raoul did not feel it necessary to ask, count; and I think, as he waived the point, and the affair is now terminated, it would be well that his opponent should be permitted to withdraw without questions."
"That is all very well for you, Monsieur D'Estanges, as a party in a private quarrel; but as governor of Agen, it is my duty to satisfy myself as to who this stranger, who has killed an officer of the king, may be."
He turned his horse, and for the first time obtained a view of Philip; who, seeing the impossibility of escape, had been standing quietly by.
"Why, it is but a youth!" he exclaimed. "You say he slew Count Raoul in fair fight, Monsieur D'Estanges?"
"In as fair a fight as ever I saw, Monsieur le Comte."
"Who are you, sir?" the governor asked Philip.
"I am a stranger, travelling through Agen on private business," Philip said quietly.
"But what is your name and family, sir?"
"I am English," Philip replied. "My name is Philip Fletcher."
"A Huguenot, I will be bound?" the governor said angrily.
"Not at all, count. I am of the religion of my nation–a Protestant."
"It is the same thing," the governor said. "It is clear that, for whatever purpose you may be in Agen, you are here for no good.
"This is a serious matter, Monsieur D'Estanges."
"As I have said, I know nothing of this gentleman, count. I saw him for the first time a little over half an hour ago, and on every account I wish that I had not seen him. He has killed my friend Raoul, deprived his majesty of a staunch adherent, and has got himself into trouble. But for all that, I am assured, by his conduct and bearing in this business, that he is an honourable gentleman; and I intreat you, as a personal favour, count, that you allow him to go free."
"I would do much to oblige you, Monsieur D'Estanges; but he is an Englishman and a Protestant, by his own confession, and therefore can only be here to aid the men who have risen in rebellion, and to conspire with the king's enemies. He will be placed in close charge and, when the present pressing affairs have been put out of hand, I doubt not we shall find means of learning a good deal more about this mysterious person, who claims to be English, but who yet speaks our language like a Frenchman."
"As to that matter, I can satisfy you at once," Philip said. "My mother was a French lady, a daughter of the Count de Moulins of Poitou."
"A Huguenot family, if I mistake not," the governor said, coldly. "Well, we have other things to think of, now.
"Captain Carton, place two troopers one on each side of this person. I authorize you to cut him down, if he tries to escape. Let four others dismount, and carry the body of the Count de Fontaine into the city.
"You will, of course, take the command of his troop, Count Louis; seeing that, if I mistake not, you are his nearest relative, and the heir to his possessions."
As Philip was led through the streets he caught sight of Pierre, who made no sign of recognition as he passed. He was taken to the castle, and confined in a room in a turret, looking down upon the river. The window was closely barred, but otherwise the room, though small, was not uncomfortable. It contained a chair, a table, and a couch.
When the door was barred and bolted behind him, Philip walked to the window and stood looking out at the river. The prospect seemed dark. The governor was unfavourably disposed towards him now; and when the news came, on the morrow, that the Queen of Navarre had slipped through his fingers, his exasperation would no doubt be vented on him. What was now but a mere suspicion, would then become almost a certainty; and it would, as a matter of course, be assumed that he was there on matters connected with her flight. That he was a Protestant was alone sufficient to condemn him to death, but his connection with the queen's flight would, beyond all question, seal his fate.
Pierre, he felt sure, would do all that he could for him; but that could amount to almost nothing. Even if he had the means of filing through or removing the bars, it would need a long stout rope to enable him to descend to the water's edge, a hundred feet below him; and that he could obtain possession of either file, or rope, seemed to him as absolutely impossible.
"Nevertheless," he said to himself, "I will let Pierre know where I am confined. I do not see that it can do any good. But he is a fellow of resource. I have great faith in him and, though I can see no possible plan of escape, he, being without, may try something.
"I have no doubt that his first endeavour will be to find out where I am confined. I warrant he will know my cap, if he sees it. He has an eye like a hawk and, if he sees anything outside one of the windows, he will suspect at once that it is a signal; and when he once looks closely at it, he will make out its orange tint and these three long cock's feathers."
So saying, he thrust one of his arms through the bars with the cap, which he allowed to hang down against the wall below. There he stood for two hours, closely examining every boat that came along. At last he saw one rowed by two men, with a third sitting in the stern; and had no difficulty in making out, as it came closer, that this was Pierre, who was gazing at the castle.
Presently he saw him suddenly clap his hands, and speak to the rowers. These did not look up, but continued to row on in the same leisurely way as before; nor did Pierre again glance at the castle.
Satisfied that his signal had been observed, Philip withdrew it, but continued to watch the boat. It went half a mile higher up, then turned and floated quietly down the stream again. When he had seen it pass the bridge, he threw himself down on the couch.
"There is nothing more for me to do," he said. "The matter is in Pierre's hands, now."
He listened for a time to the tramp of a sentry, backwards and forwards outside his door; and then fell off to sleep, from which he did not awake until he heard the bars withdrawn, and the key turned in the lock. Then a man accompanied by two soldiers entered, and placed a chicken, a bottle of wine, and a loaf of bread on the table.
"Monsieur D'Estanges sends this, with his compliments," he said; and then Philip was again left alone.
Two hours after it became dark he thought he heard a confused sound, as of the trampling of a number of horsemen in the courtyard of the castle. He went to the door and, placing his ear against it, was convinced that he was not mistaken.
"That looks as if an expedition were about to start somewhere," he said. "If they are bound for Nerac, they will arrive there too late; for the queen will, by this time, be setting out. They cannot intend to scale the walls tonight, and the gates will have been shut long ago. They are probably going into ambush, somewhere near, so as to ride in in the morning.
"I wish I could be certain they are bound in that direction. There was certainly no idea of an expedition this morning, but it is possible that the messenger with the order for the arrest of the queen and prince may have arrived this afternoon, and the governor is losing no time.
"I trust it is so, and not that news has come, from some spy at Nerac, that she will leave the place tonight. If it is so, this party may be setting out to strengthen the guards on the river; or to occupy the roads by which she would travel, were her purpose to join the seneschal.
"I trust that Pierre and the others are on the alert, and not wasting their time in thinking about me; and that, if this troop make along the river, they will ride to warn the queen in time. Hearing nothing, she will assume that the road is clear, and that she can go on fearlessly.
"It is enough to drive one mad, being cooped up here when the whole success of the cause is at stake."
The character of the sentry's walk had changed. He had been relieved some four hours before, and his walk at times ceased, as if he were leaning against the wall to rest himself, while at times he gave an impatient stamp with his feet.
"I expect they have forgotten to relieve him," Philip said to himself. "If a strong body has gone out, that might very well be."
Another half hour passed, and then he heard steps ascending the stone staircase, and the sentry exclaimed angrily:
"Sapristie, comrade, I began to think I was going to be kept all night at my post, and that everyone had ridden out with that party that started, half an hour ago.
"Now, then, the orders are: 'Permit no one to approach. Refuse even to allow officers to visit the prisoner, without a special order of the governor.' That is all.
