CHAPTER XLI.
Two hours had not passed after the sun's rising above the horizon whenEdward Langdale stood with a small group of officers at the extremeoutpost of the royal army, before what was called the Niort gate of thecity of Rochelle. There was still a space of about five hundred yardsbetween him and the walls; and before him rose all those towers andpinnacles, many of which have since been destroyed, but which renderedthen and still render Rochelle one of the most picturesque cities ofFrance when seen from a distance. During the whole siege the operations,though sure and terrible, had been slow and apparently tardy. TheRochellois had been glad to husband their powder; and it was no part ofRichelieu's plan to breach the walls or to do more than harass thecitizens by an occasional attack. On this morning there had been nofiring on either side, and the town looked as quiet and peaceable as ifthere were no hostile force before it. But, as Edward Langdale and hiscompanion, a young officer of the cardinal's guard, had ridden down fromMauze, the latter had pointed out to the young Englishman that famousdyke which, stretching across the mouth of the port, had gradually cutoff the city from all communication with friends at home or alliesabroad. He had, in a jesting way, too, put some questions to Edward inregard to the objects of his journey; but he obtained no information,and did not dare to press them closely.
"You had better take some more breakfast, sir," said an old officercommanding at the advance-posts. "You will get none in there; and,though we are forbidden to suffer the slightest morsel to go in, Ipresume that does not apply to what a man can carry in his stomach."
"I shall soon be back again if they let me in at all," answered Edward."Can any one give me a white flag? for I may as well not draw the fire.That is a sort of breakfast I have no inclination for."
A small white flag was soon procured, and, leaving his horse withPierrot and Beaupre, who had followed him down the hill, Edward set outon foot. He carried the white flag in his hand and approached the gatewith a calm, steady pace. He saw some men walk quickly along the walltoward the same point to which his own course was directed; but the flagof truce was respected, and he was permitted to come within five or sixyards of the heavy gate. Then, however, a voice shouted from behind asmall grated wicket, "Stand back! What seek you here?"
"I seek to speak with the syndic Clement Tournon," said Edward; "and, ifnot with him, with Monsieur Guiton, mayor of the city."
"Stand back! You cannot enter here," said the man on the other side.
"Will you cause the mayor to be informed," said Edward, "that MasterEdward Langdale, an English gentleman well known in Rochelle, standswithout and desires admittance, if it be but for an hour?"
The man grumbled something which Edward did not hear, and there seemedto be a consultation held within, at the end of which the same voicetold him to keep on the other side of the drawbridge while they informedthe mayor. The young gentleman accordingly retired, and seated himselfon a large stone at the end of the bridge, where for nearly an hour hehad nothing to occupy him but his own thoughts, with every now and thena puff of smoke from one of the royalist batteries, which had latelybegun firing, and one gun replying from the walls. It seemed all child'splay, however; and he soon ceased to think of the matter at all. Hismind then turned to his own position and the curious fact of Richelieuhaving suffered him to visit Rochelle with so very little opposition. Hecould not but ask himself how much the gold cup had to do with theminister's acquiescence; but, as he reflected more deeply upon thecardinal's character and upon various incidents which had come to hisknowledge, he concluded in his own mind that Richelieu might be wellpleased to make another effort to open a communication with the citizenswithout compromising his own dignity. The position of the besiegingforce, he thought, might not be so good as it appeared. The dyke, onwhich so much depended, and which he had had no means of examiningclosely, might not be sufficiently solid to resist the action of the seaand winds. The English armament might be, to Richelieu's knowledge, of amore formidable character and more advanced state of preparation thanwas admitted; and all these circumstances might render the speedycapture of Rochelle upon any terms absolutely necessary.
In little more than an hour, the same voice he had heard before calledhim up to the gate, and the wicket was partly opened to give himadmittance under the archway, where he found five or six men withhalberds on their shoulders and otherwise well armed, while a young manbearing the appearance of an officer advanced to meet him. The steelcaps of the soldiers in some degree concealed their faces; but thebroad-brimmed, plumed hat of the young officer served in no degree tohide the gaunt, pallid features, the high cheek-bones, the fallen-incheeks, the hollow eyes, and the strong marking of the temples, whichtold a sad tale of the ravages of famine, even amongst the higher andmore wealthy classes of the town. A feeling of delicacy made Edwardwithdraw his eyes after one hasty glance at the young gentleman'scountenance; and, as the other paused without speaking for a moment, hesaid, "May I ask, sir, if any one has conveyed my message to the syndicClement Tournon or to the mayor?"
"Monsieur Tournon is ill in his own house," replied the young officer:"but Monsieur Guiton, the mayor, has come down to a house near thisgate, and will receive you there, as it might be inconvenient to inviteyou to the town-house, for fear of any disturbance."
"I am ready to wait upon him," replied Edward, "wherever he pleases."
"I am sorry to say," replied the young officer, "that even for so shorta distance you must give up your arms and suffer your eyes to bebandaged."
"I have no arms," replied Edward, "as you may see. I purposely camewithout. As to bandaging my eyes, do as you please. I am no spy noragent of the French Government." He pulled off his hat as he spoke,bending down his head for the handkerchief to be tied over his eyes;and, as soon as that somewhat disagreeable operation was performed, theyoung officer took him by the hand, and, with one of the soldiersfollowing, led him into Rochelle. When they had passed on perhaps ahundred yards, Edward received a painful intimation of the state of thecity. As they seemed to turn into another street, the young officercaught him by the arm and pulled him sharply aside, saying to thesoldier, "Have that body removed. These sights serve to scare the peopleand make them clamorous."
"I don't think she is dead yet," said the soldier.
"Then have her carried to the hospital as quickly as possible. Don't lether lie there and die."
He then led Edward on, and in two or three minutes more stopped at thedoor of a house and entered what seemed a small passage, where heremoved the handkerchief from Edward's eyes. "Monsieur Guiton is here,"he said, opening a door where, in a little room and at a small table,was seated a man of middle age with a dagger by his side and a swordlying on the table. His form seemed once to have been exceedinglypowerful and his face firm and resolute; but there was that gaunt andworn expression in every line which Edward had seen in the countenanceof his guide.
"Who are you, sir?" said the mayor; "and what is the motive of so rare athing as the visit of a stranger to the town of Rochelle?"
"My name is Edward Langdale," replied the young Englishman,--"a poorfollower of my Lord Montagu, who once bore letters from his Grace ofBuckingham to the city of Rochelle."
"Ay, I remember," said the mayor, thoughtfully: "you were roughly used,if I remember right. But now, sir, to your business."
"It is in a great degree personal," replied Edward; "but, as it isprivate, I would rather speak to you alone."
"Leave us," said the mayor, addressing the young officer, who at oncequitted the room and closed the door. "Now, sir," continued Guiton, "Iam ready to hear. But be brief, I pray you. Occupation here is moreplenty than time, and time more plenty than provisions. Therefore Icannot offer you refreshment nor show you much courtesy."
"I require neither, sir," answered Edward. "My business refers toMonsieur Clement Tournon. He is aged,--infirm; and I have with somedifficulty obtained from the Cardinal de Richelieu permission and a passfor him to quit Rochelle."
"Ha!" said the
mayor. "Ha! This is strange, young gentleman! You must bein mighty favor! Why, sir, he has driven back women and children and oldmen--all starving--from the French lines into this city of famine! You,an Englishman, an enemy,--he show such favor to you! Pah! There must besomething under this. Have you no message for me?"
"No distinct message, sir," replied Edward: "the cardinal indeed said,in terms so vague that I cannot and will not counsel any reliance uponthem, that if Rochelle would submit she should have favorable terms,--asfavorable as even I could expect. But I am not his messenger, sir.Neither is there any thing that I know under the plain fact which I havestated."
"Let me see your pass," said Guiton, abruptly. Edward handed it to him,and he examined it minutely. "'Edward Langdale and one companion,--towit, the syndic Clement Tournon'!" he said. "Well, this is marvellousstrange! I cannot let this pass without some further knowledge of sounaccountable a matter."
"Well, Monsieur Guiton," answered Edward, firmly, "pray remember that I,comparatively, a stranger to him, have perilled much to aid and rescuea man who once showed me kindness, nursed me like a father when I wassick, and trusted me as he would his son when I had recovered; and thatit is you--his ancient friend, as I am told--who keep him here to die offamine or of sickness when he can be of no further service either withhand or head. I have done my duty. Probably you think you are doingyours."
The mayor waved his hand. "Not so many words," he said. "Can you give meany explanation of this strange matter?"
"None," replied Edward, boldly.
"Does Clement Tournon wish to leave the city?" demanded the mayor again.
"I do not know," replied the young Englishman. "He is old, infirm, and,I am told, sick. I have had no communication with him. But he knows thathe can be of no further service in Rochelle, or I believe he wouldremain in it till the last man died and the last tower fell."
"He is sick," said the mayor, "of a very common disease here. But yet weare not so badly off that we cannot maintain the city till the Englishfleet arrives."
"The dyke!" said Edward, emphatically.
"Oh," replied Guiton, with a scoffing and unnatural-sounding laugh, "thefirst storm, such as I have seen many, will sweep that dyke away."
"But, if it stands fourteen days," said Edward, "will you not have astorm within these walls which will sweep away the people of Rochelle?"
Guiton covered his eyes with his hands and remained silent.
"But I have nothing to do with these things, sir," said Edward. "It wasonly to give aid, to give safety, to a friend, an old noble-minded manwho befriended me when I had need of friendship, that I came intoRochelle at all. May I ask what is this sickness that you speak of solightly?"
"Famine, sir! famine!" said Guiton, sharply. "An ounce of meat,--Godknows of what kind,--two ounces of dried peas, and a draught of coldwater, is but a meagre diet for old men and babes. We strong men canbear it; but there be some who are foolish enough to die rather thanendure it a little longer."
"And have you the heart, sir," asked Edward, with some indignation inhis tone, "to refuse the means of escape offered to an old man, and thatman Clement Tournon, and to speak lightly of his sufferings,--hismartyrdom, I might say?"
"No! no! no!" cried the mayor, vehemently, stretching forth his hands."Young man, you mistake me! Could my blood nourish him, he should havethe last drop. What! old Clement Tournon, my dear, dear friend,--would Ideprive him of one hour's life? But it is that I cannot comprehend howyou are here,--why you are here. This story that you tell is merenonsense."
"It is true, nevertheless," said Edward. "But if my word will notsatisfy you,--as, indeed, I see no reason why it should,--come with meto Clement Tournon, and he perhaps can tell you how much I can dare toserve a friend."
"I will!" cried Guiton, starting up; but then he sat down againimmediately, saying, "No, no! I cannot bear those faces in the streets.Can you find your way yourself?--for I can spare no men."
"Not if I am to be blindfolded," said Edward: "otherwise I could findit, I am sure."
"Pshaw!" said the mayor, "what use of blindfolding you? You will seedying and dead, plague-eaten, famine-stricken. But you can go and tellthe Cardinal de Richelieu how the citizens of Rochelle can die ratherthan see their privileges torn from them, their religion trodden underfoot. You can tell him, too, that I will defend those walls as long asthere is one soldier left to man them and one hand capable of firing agun, unless we have security for our faith. You are sure he said nothingmore?"
"No, nothing more," answered Edward: "merely that he would give you themost favorable terms, but that he would not have rebellion in the land."
"Rebellion!" muttered Guiton, scornfully. "Who first drew the sword? Butlet us think of Clement Tournon. I am willing to believe you, younggentleman. If I remember rightly, I have heard the old man speak wellof you. And, after all, what harm can you do? You can but repeat a storyof our sufferings which I am aware they already know too well in yondercamp. What they do not know is the courage with which we can bear them.Go to the syndic. He has not come forth for several days. Go to him, andsee if the prospect of relief can give fresh strength to those enfeebledlimbs, fresh energy to that crushed and scarcely-beating heart. Tell himthat I not only permit but beseech him to go with you,--that even onemouth less in Rochelle is a relief. He has done his duty manfully to thelast. He can do it no longer. Beseech him to go. And yet," he continued,in a sad tone, "I much doubt his strength. Could he have crawled even tothe council-chamber, we should have seen his face. Could he have liftedhis voice, we should have heard his inspiring words. He was alive lastnight, I know. But to-day----Alas, alas, my poor friend!" And some tearsran down the worn cheek of the gallant defender of Rochelle.
"I have some brandy under my coat," whispered Edward. "I brought it onpurpose for him. It may give him strength at least to reach theoutposts."
Guiton seized his hand and wrung it hard. "Noble young man! wellbethought!" he said. "But he must have a little food. Stay; he shallhave my dinner. I do not want it. By Heaven! the thought that we havesaved old Clement Tournon will be better than the best of meals to me!"
He rose from the table, and, approaching the door, gave some orders tothose without, and then returned, saying, "There is still much to bethought of, young gentleman, and we have little time to think. I fear ifyou go out in the daytime the people will pour forth after you, and allwill be driven back by cannon-shots."
"It must now be near one o'clock," said Edward, "and it will probablytake some time to restore his strength a little. If you, sir, nobly givehim up your own food, it must be administered to him by slow degrees,and----"
"What! an ounce of meat?" said Guiton, with a miserable smile: "my fareis the same as the rest, sir. But I must leave all that to you. His ownration will be served to him in an hour. Mine you shall take and givehim as it seems best to you. I will write a pass for you and him, thatyou may not be stopped at any hour of the night or day; and then I mustgo back to the town-hall, lest men should wonder at my long absence. Myonly fear is that the good old man will not take my ration if he knowsit comes from me."
"Take a little of these strong waters, sir," said Edward, drawing theflask from beneath his coat. Guiton hesitated, and Edward added, "Thereis much more than he can or ought to use; and, if I tell him that Ibrought you some supply, he will take the food you send more readily."
The mayor took the flask and drank a very little, giving it back againand saying, "Mix it with water ere you give him any. By Heaven, it islike fire! Yet it will keep me up, I do believe. Hark! there are steps.Put it up, quick. They might murder you for it, if any of the commonpeople were to see it."
The steps were those of a soldier bringing the scanty meal, which wasall the mayor allowed himself. A pen and ink and a scrap of paper werethen procured, and the pass for Edward and Clement Tournon was soonwritten. To make all sure, Guiton called the young officer, in whom heseemed to have much confidence, and asked if he would be on guard at thegates that night.
The young man answered in the affirmative; and themayor gave strict directions that Monsieur Edward Langdale and thesyndic Tournon should be passed safely and unmolested on their waytoward the royal camp. A smile of hope and pleasure came upon theofficer's face, and Guiton added, "Do not deceive yourself, Bernard.This is no treaty for surrender. We must suffer a little longer; andthen we shall have relief. Here, go with Monsieur Langdale, first to thegate by which he entered, then to the end of the Rue de l'Horloge. Thereleave him. Farewell, sir," he continued, turning to Edward, and thenadding, in a lower tone, "Mark well the turnings from the gate, and walksomewhat slow and feebly, so as not to draw attention. The people are inan irritable state."
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