by Eugène Sue
“Horrible!” echoed the Franc-Taupin in sinister accents. “But blood calls for blood! A soldier of adventure since my fifteenth year, already I had become a wolf — now I shall be a tiger! The reformers will draw the sword to avenge their martyrs — no quarter for the assassin priests! By my sister’s death!” proceeded the Franc-Taupin, livid with rage and raising his clenched fist heavenward, “call me a wooden-bowled cripple and a lame poltroon if I do not tear up the papists with my very teeth! But,” restraining himself, he resumed: “Let us consider what now most presses. Master Raimbaud, here is a letter from your wife. I know its contents. She conjures you not to go back to your establishment, and to take shelter in the place of safety that she mentions. She will join you there in order to consider with you what is to be done. She is a cautious and resolute woman.”
“My good Martha alarms herself unnecessarily,” observed the armorer after reading his wife’s letter. “However violent the persecution of the reformers may be, and although a heretic myself, I have nothing to fear. I work for several seigneurs of the court; I have fashioned their finest arms; they will not refuse me their protection.”
“Master Raimbaud, do the papist court jays, with the feathers of peacocks and the talons of vultures, owe you any money?”
“Indeed, they owe me large sums.”
“They will burn you to cancel their debts. Make no doubt of that.”
“God’s head! You may be telling the truth, Josephin! I must consider that.”
“Well, then, return secretly to Paris; remain in hiding a few days, gather all your valuables — and flee to La Rochelle. Place yourself beyond the reach of the tigers’ claws. It is the best thing you can do.”
“But what of the poor lad — Odelin?”
“My nephew and myself will accompany you to La Rochelle. I scent battle and carnage in that quarter. When I say ‘battle’ I see things red. Here is to the red! I love wine — I shall drink blood! Oh, blood! You shall flow streaming and warm from the breast of the papists, like wine from the bung-hole of a cask. By my sister’s death! Oh, for the day when I shall avenge Bridget — Hena — my two poor martyrs!”
After a moment’s silent reflection the armorer blurted out: “My head reels under so many afflictions. I forgot to ask you where is Christian’s daughter, Hena?”
“She is a prisoner at the Chatelet. Her trial is on,” and burying his face in his hands the soldier of adventure added in heartrending tones: “She will be pronounced guilty, sentenced, and brought to the stake — burned alive as a relapsed nun.”
“Great God, is such barbarity possible?”
“Hena!” Josephin proceeded without answering Master Raimbaud, “you sweet and dear creature! Image of my sister! Poor child whom, when a baby, I rocked upon my knees — you shall be avenged—”
The Franc-Taupin could not utter another word; he broke down into sobs.
“Unhappy Christian!” exclaimed Master Raimbaud pitifully. “What must not have been his agony!”
“We had to fabricate a tale before we could induce him to depart,” answered the Franc-Taupin, wiping his burning eye with the back of his hand. “Monsieur Estienne assured Christian that the Princess had obtained grace for Hena’s life, but under the condition that she was to spend her existence in some convent far away from Paris. Christian then decided to flee and preserve himself for his only remaining child, Odelin. He is now safe at La Rochelle.”
“And Hervé? You have not mentioned him.”
“By my sister’s death! Do not mention the name of that monster. I could strangle him with my own hands, child of Bridget’s though he be. He has joined the Cordelier monks. He has already preached in their church upon the necessity of exterminating the heretics. The Queen was present on the occasion. They extol the eloquence of the young monk. Death and damnation!” Shivering with horror and disgust, the Franc-Taupin proceeded after a pause: “Never again mention the monster’s name in my hearing! May hell swallow him up!”
Uninformed upon the events that led to Hervé’s taking orders, the armorer was no less stupefied at the news of the young man’s having become a monk than at hearing Josephin give vent to his execration of his sister’s son. Nevertheless, unwilling to aggravate the sorrow of the Franc-Taupin, he refrained from dwelling upon a subject that so greatly inflamed him.
“The tidings you have brought me have so upset me that it did not yet occur to me to ask you the reason for your assuming the garb you wear—”
“The reason is quite simple,” Josephin broke in; “I was described to the spies of the Criminal Lieutenant; and probably informed against by the two bandits who helped me in the abduction of my niece from the convent. My size and the plaster over my eye make me an easy mark for capture. I took the robe of a Capuchin mendicant because it best enables me to conceal my face. These friars have no convent of their own in the city. A few of them straggle into Paris from time to time from their hives at Chartres or Bourges, to pick up crumbs. If any one of them, coming from Chartres, addresses me, I would say: ‘I am from Bourges.’ To those from Bourges I shall say: ‘I am from Chartres.’ I have been established in this tavern for the last three days. I told the inn-keeper that I expected a stranger upon business of my Order. I pay for my lodging regularly every morning. The inn-keeper has not manifested any curiosity about me. Thus, in short, runs the explanation of my disguise. For your own guidance, Master Raimbaud, I shall add that the exasperation of the Catholics against the reformers is just now at white heat. They even talk of slaughtering the Huguenots in mass.”
“What are these threats, this increased hatred, attributed to?”
“To certain printed placards clandestinely posted on the walls of Paris by the activity of Christian’s friend Justin. The placards scourge the priests, the monks and all other papists. A large number of heretics have already been arrested and sentenced to the stake; others have been massacred by the brutified populace — that huge she-greyhound, with bloody craw, as the monks say when they refer to the poor and ignorant masses. You may judge from that what dangers you would run in Paris, were you to attempt to enter the city openly, you who are pointed at as a heretic. My nephew Odelin runs the same danger. They are ready to seize him the moment he steps into your house.”
“What! They want to arrest a child?”
“Children become men with time — and they fear men. I should have stabbed you to death, Ignatius Loyola, when I was your page! It is you who order the father and mother to be burned as heretics, and the three children to be clapped into cloisters to the end of uprooting a stock that you pronounce accursed! But the father has escaped death, and I shall know how to thwart your search after his last child! After that — battle and carnage! By my sister’s death — I shall cause the blood of papists to run like water. Time presses — let us make haste. You can not return home, Master Raimbaud, any more than my nephew could safely step into your house. This is the plan I submitted to Monsieur Robert Estienne, and which he approves: I have provided myself with a second Capuchin frock for Odelin. He and I will go to Paris, our bags on our backs, without awakening suspicion. We shall turn in at a friend’s on St. Honoré Street, where Monsieur Estienne will call to see us. It is a safe place. Monsieur Estienne has taken upon himself the painful task of informing Odelin concerning the misfortunes that have smitten his family. To-morrow evening we leave Paris again in our disguise, and I shall take my nephew to his father at La Rochelle. Should you also decide to change your residence, and to move to La Rochelle with your wife, we may agree upon some town near Paris in which Odelin and myself could join you. This is for you to consider and decide.”
“Your plan seems wise to me, Josephin; I shall probably decide to follow it. From what is happening in Paris, I perceive I would not be safe there.”
“Well, then, Master Raimbaud, leave the horses behind in the tavern. One of your employees may come to-morrow for them. Do not enter Paris until after dark and keep your head well hooded. Proceed straight
to the house that your wife mentions to you—”
The Franc-Taupin was interrupted in the directions he was issuing by the entrance of his nephew, holding in one hand a flask wrapped in fine paper, and in the other a steel dagger. He held out the two objects with a radiant face to Josephin, saying with exquisite kindness:
“Dear uncle, I forged this dagger for you out of the best steel there was in Milan; I bring you this flask of old Imola wine for you to celebrate this happy day and to drink to the speedy reunion of our family.”
So poignant was the contrast between the lad’s words and the sad reality of which he still remained in ignorance, that Master Raimbaud and the Franc-Taupin exchanged sad glances and remained silent. Josephin’s cowl, now resting wholly upon his shoulders, left his face entirely exposed. So visible were the traces of sorrow and mental suffering that face revealed, that Odelin, now seeing his uncle for the first time wholly uncovered, drew back a step. Immediately he also noticed the profound sadness of Master Raimbaud. Alarmed at the silence of the two, Odelin felt oppressed. He felt a vague presentiment of some great misfortune. Touched by the token of his nephew’s affection, the Franc-Taupin took the flask and the dagger, examined the weapon, placed it in his belt under his frock, and muttered to himself:
“Ah, a good blade. You are given to me by the son — you shall wreak vengeance for the mother, the father — and their daughter!” He then placed the flask down beside him, and embracing Odelin, added aloud: “Thank you, my dear boy. The dagger will be useful to me. As to the flask — tastes change — I drink wine no more. Now to business. I have a note for you from your father. Post yourself upon its contents.”
“But am I not to see father shortly, at home?”
Not a little astonished, Odelin read:
My dearly beloved Odelin. — Do everything your uncle Josephin may tell you, without asking any questions. Do not feel alarmed. I shall soon embrace you. I love you as ever, from the bottom of my heart.
Your father,
CHRISTIAN.
Despite his vague and increasing uneasiness, Odelin felt quieted by those words of his father’s: “I shall soon embrace you.” He said to the Franc-Taupin:
“What must I do, uncle?”
The soldier of fortune took a bundle from his bed, drew out of it a Capuchin’s robe, and said to his nephew:
“The first thing to do, my boy, is to put this robe over your clothes, and when we are out of doors you will take care to keep the cowl over your face, as I am doing now.”
“I?” asked Odelin, startled. “Am I to put on such a costume?” But recalling the instructions of his father, he added: “I forgot that father wrote me to obey you, uncle, without asking any reasons for your orders. I shall put on the robe, immediately.”
“Fine,” said Master Raimbaud, forcing a smile on his lips in order to quiet Odelin. “There you are, from an armorer’s apprentice transformed into a Capuchin’s apprentice! The change does not seem to be to your taste, my little friend.”
“It is my father’s will, Master Raimbaud. I but obey. Truth to say, however, I do not fancy a monk’s garb.”
“I am a better papist than yourself, little Odelin,” put in the Franc-Taupin ironically, as he helped his nephew to don his disguise; “I love the monks so well that I hope soon to start bestowing upon every one of them whom I may meet — the red skullcap of a Cardinal! Now, shoulder that wallet and bend your back; and then with a dragging leg, and neck stuck out, we shall imitate as well as we can the gait of that Roman Catholic and Apostolic vermin.”
“How comical I shall look to mother and to my sister Hena when they see me arrive thus accoutred!” observed Odelin with a smile. “Dear uncle, if father is the only one informed of my disguise, I shall knock at the door of our house, and beg for an alms with a nasal twang. Just think of their surprise when I throw up my cowl! Corpo di Bacco! as the Italians say, we shall laugh till the tears run down our cheeks.”
“Your idea is not bad,” answered the Franc-Taupin, embarrassed. “But it is getting late. Bid Master Raimbaud good-bye, and let us depart.”
“Is Master Raimbaud to stay here?”
“Yes, my boy—”
“Who is to see to the horses?”
“Do not trouble yourself about that; they will have their provender.”
The armorer embraced his apprentice, whom he loved almost as an own son and bade him be of good cheer.
“Your adieu sounds sad, Master Raimbaud, and as if our separation were to be a long one,” observed Odelin with moistening eyes. “Uncle! Oh, uncle! My alarm returns, it grows upon me. I can not account for the sadness of Master Raimbaud, and I do not understand the mystery of this disguise to enter Paris—”
“My dear boy, remember your father’s instructions,” said Josephin. “Put me no questions to which I can not now make an answer.”
The boy resigned himself with a sigh. Shouldering his wallet, he descended after his uncle. As the latter heard the clink of Odelin’s spurs on the stairs, he turned to him:
“I forgot to make you take off your spurs. Remove them while I go and pay the inn-keeper. Wait for me outside at the cross road.”
“Uncle, may I put into my wallet a few little presents that I bring from Italy for the family?”
“Do about that as you please,” answered the Franc-Taupin.
While Odelin walked into the stable to remove his spurs and take out of his valise the articles which he wished to take with him, Josephin went to settle his score with the inn-keeper. The latter, who hugged his taproom, did not see young Odelin come down in his Capuchin vestments. To the Franc-Taupin he said: “You leave us early, my reverend. I hoped you would pay us a longer visit. But I can understand that you are in a hurry to reach Paris to witness the great ceremony.”
“What ceremony have you in mind, my good man?”
“A traveler informed us that the bells and the chimes have been ringing in Paris with might and main since morning. All the houses along the road that the superb procession is to traverse were decorated with tapestry by orders of the Criminal Lieutenant, who also ordered that a lighted wax candle be held at every window. He also told us that the King, the Queen and all the Princes, as well as a crowd of great seigneurs and high dignitaries were to assist at the ceremony — the most magnificent that will yet have been seen—”
“Good evening, my host,” said Josephin, anxious to put an end to the conversation and join his nephew who waited for him outside. To himself he was saying:
“What can the ceremony be that the inn-keeper has been informed about? After all, the event can only be favorable to us. The crowds that the streets will be filled with will facilitate our passage, and help us to reach unperceived the retreat designated by Monsieur Estienne.”
The Franc-Taupin and his nephew walked rapidly towards Paris where they arrived as the sun was dipping the western horizon.
CHAPTER XX.
JANUARY 21, 1535.
JANUARY 21, 1535! Alas, that date must remain inscribed in characters of blood in our plebeian annals, O, sons of Joel! If there is justice on earth or in heaven — and I, Christian Lebrenn, who trace these lines, believe in an avenging, an expiatory justice — some day, on that distant day predicted by Victoria the Great, the 21st of January may be also a day fatal to the race of crowned executioners, the princes, the nobles, and the infamous Romish priests.
You are about to contemplate, O, sons of Joel — you are about to contemplate the pious work of that King Francis I, that chivalrous King, that Very Christian King, as the court popinjays love to style him. A chivalrous King — he is false to his troth! A knightly King — he sells under the auctioneer’s hammer the seats on the courts of justice and in the tribunals of religion! A very Christian King — he wallows in the filthiest of debauches! In order to impart a flavor of incest to adultery, he shares with one of his own sons, the husband of Catherine De Medici, the bed of the Duchess of Etampes. Finally, he expires tainted with a loathsome disease
after ten years of frightful sufferings! At this season, however, the miscreant is still in full health, and is engaged in honoring God, his saints and his Church with a human holocaust. Hypocrisy and ferocity!
A magnificent solemnity was that day to be the object of edification to all the good Catholics of Paris, as the inn-keeper announced to the Franc-Taupin. Read, O sons of Joel, the ordinance posted in Paris by order of the Very Christian King Francis I:
On Thursday the 21st day of January, 1535, a solemn procession will take place in the honor of God our Creater, of the glorious Virgin Mary, and of all the blessed Saints in Paradise. Our Seigneur, King Francis I, has been informed of the errors that are rife in these days, and of the placards and heretical books that are posted or scattered around the streets and thoroughfares of Paris by the vicious sectarians of Luther, and other blasphemers of the sacred Sacrament of the altar, the which accursed scum of society aims at the destruction of our Catholic faith and of the constitutions of our mother, the Holy Church of God.
Therefore, our said Seigneur Francis I has held a Council, and, in order to repair the injury done to God, has decided to order a general procession, the same to close with the torture and execution of several heretics. At the head of the procession shall be carried the sacred Eucharist and the most precious relics of the city of Paris.
First, on the 17th day of the said month of January, proclamation shall be made to the sound of trumpets, throughout the thoroughfares of Paris, ordering that the streets through which the said procession is to pass shall be swept clean, and all the houses ornamented with beautiful tapestry. The owners of the said houses shall stand before their doors, bare-headed and holding a lighted taper in their hands. — Item, on the Wednesday following, the 20th of the said month, the principals of all the Universities of Paris shall meet and orders shall be issued to them to cause the students of the said Colleges to be locked up, with the express injunction that the same shall not be allowed outside until the procession shall have passed, in order to obviate confusion and tumult. Furthermore the students shall fast on the eve and the day of the procession. — Item, provosts of the merchant guilds and the aldermen of the city of Paris shall cause barriers to be raised at the crossing of the streets through which the said procession is to pass, in order to prevent the people from crossing the lines of the marchers. Two soldiers and two archers shall be placed in charge of each one of the said barriers. — Item. halting places shall be erected in the middle of St. Denis and St. Honoré Streets, at the Cross-of-Trahoir, and at the further end of the Notre Dame Bridge, the latter of which shall be decorated with a gilded lanthorn, historical paintings of the holy Sacrament, and a dais of evergreen from which shall hang a number of crowns, and bannerets bearing the following sacred device: Ipsi peribunt, tu autem permanebis (They shall perish, but you, Holy Mother Church, shall remain forever).
