The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “I know that I am too fond of using the edge, sir,” Philip said, modestly. “My English masters taught me to do so and, although my French instructors at home were always impressing upon me that the point was more deadly than the edge, I cannot break myself altogether from the habit.”

  “There is no need to do so,” the Count said. “Of late the point has come into fashion among us, and doubtless it has advantages; but often a downright blow will fetch a man from his saddle, when you would in vain try to find, with the point, a joint in his armour. But you must have been well taught, indeed, if you are a better swordsman than my cousin; whose powers I have tried at Laville, and found him to be an excellent swordsman, for his age.”

  “I have had many masters,” Philip said. “Both my French and English teachers were good swordsmen; and it was seldom a Frenchman who had been in the wars passed through Canterbury, that my uncle did not engage him to give me a few lessons. Thus, being myself very anxious to become a good swordsman, and being fond of exercises, I naturally picked up a great many tricks with the sword.”

  “You could not have spent your time better, if you had an intention of coming over to take part in our troubles here. Your grandfather, De Moulins, was said to be one of the best swordsmen in France; and you may have inherited some of his skill. I own that I felt rather uneasy at the charge of two such young cockerels, though I could not refuse when the countess, my aunt, begged me to let you ride with me; but in future I shall feel easy about you, seeing that you can both take your own parts stoutly.

  “Well, order your men to be ready and mounted, in the marketplace, at half-past five. The west gate will be opened for us to ride forth at six.”

  Philip had every reason to be satisfied with the conduct of his new servant. In the town, as at Laville, Pierre behaved circumspectly and quietly; assuming a grave countenance in accordance with his surroundings, keeping his arms and armour brightly polished, and waiting at table as orderly as if he had been used to nothing else all his life.

  “I am glad to hear it, sir,” Pierre said, when Philip informed him that they would start on the following morning. “I love not towns; and here, where there is nought to do but to polish your armour, and stand behind your chair at dinner, the time goes mighty heavily.”

  “You will have no cause to grumble on that account, Pierre, I fancy, for your ride will be a long one. I do not expect we shall often have a roof over our heads.”

  “All the better, sir, so long as the ride finishes before the cold weather sets in. Fond as I am of sleeping with the stars over me; I own that, when the snow is on the ground, I prefer a roof over my head.”

  At six o’clock the party started. Only two other gentlemen rode with it, both of whom were, like the Count, from Brittany. The little group chatted gaily as they rode along. Unless they happened to encounter parties of Catholics going north, to join the royal army, there was, so far as they knew, no chance of their meeting any body of the enemy on their westward ride.

  The towns of Vendome, Le Mans, and Laval were all strongly Catholic, and devoted to the Guises. These must be skirted. Rennes in Brittany must also be avoided, for all these towns were strongly garrisoned, and could turn out a force far too strong for La Noue to cope with.

  Upon the march, Pierre was not only an invaluable servant but the life of the troop; he being full of fun and frolic, and making even the gravest soldier smile at his sallies. When they halted, he was indefatigable in seeing after Philip’s comforts. He cut boughs of the trees best suited for the purpose of making a couch, and surprised his master and Francois by his ingenuity in turning out excellent dishes from the scantiest materials. He would steal away in the night to procure fowls and eggs from neighbouring farmhouses and, although Philip’s orders were that he was to pay the full price for everything he required, Philip found, when he gave an account a fortnight later of how he had spent the money he had given him, that there was no mention of any payment for these articles. When he rated Pierre for this, the latter replied:

  “I did not pay for them, sir. Not in order to save you money, but for the sake of the farmers and their families. It would have been worse than cruelty to have aroused them from sleep. The loss of a fowl or two, and of a dozen eggs, were nothing to them. If they missed them at all, they would say that a fox had been there, and they would think no more of it. If, on the other hand, I had waked them up in the middle of the night to pay for these trifles, they would have been scared out of their life; thinking, when I knocked, that some band of robbers was at the door. In their anger at being thus disturbed they would have been capable of shooting me; and it is well nigh certain that, at any rate, they would have refused to sell their chickens and eggs at that time of the night.

  “So you see, sir, I acted for the best for all parties. Two chickens out of scores was a loss not worth thinking of, while the women escaped the panic and terror that my waking them up would have caused them. When I can pay I will assuredly do so, since that is your desire; but I am sure you will see that, under such circumstances, it would be a crime to wake people from their sleep for the sake of a few sous.”

  Philip laughed.

  “Besides, sir,” Pierre went on, “these people were either Huguenots or Catholics. If they were Huguenots, they would be right glad to minister to those who are fighting on their behalf. If they were Catholics, they would rob and murder us without mercy. Therefore they may think themselves fortunate, indeed, to escape at so trifling a cost from the punishment they deserve.”

  “That is all very well, Pierre; but the orders are strict against plundering and, if the Admiral were to catch you, you would get a sound thrashing with a stirrup leather.”

  “I have risked worse than that, sir, many times in my life; and if I am caught, I will give them leave to use the strap. But you will see, Monsieur Philip, that if the war goes on these niceties will soon become out of fashion. At present the Huguenot lords and gentlemen have money in their pockets to pay for what they want, but after a time money will become scarce. They will see that the armies of the king live on plunder, as armies generally do; and when cash runs short, they will have to shut their eyes and let the men provide themselves as best they can.”

  “I hope the war won’t last long enough for that, Pierre. But at any rate, we have money in our pockets at present, and can pay for what we require; though I do not pretend that it is a serious matter to take a hen out of a coop, especially when you can’t get it otherwise, without, as you say, alarming a whole family. However, remember my orders are that everything we want is to be paid for.”

  “I understand, sir, and you will see that the next time we reckon up accounts every item shall be charged for, so that there will be nothing on your conscience.”

  Philip laughed again.

  “I shall be content if that is the case, Pierre; and I hope that your conscience will be as clear as mine will be.”

  On the third of November, just a month after leaving Orleans, De La Noue, with his troop augmented to three hundred, joined the Prince of Conde before Paris. During the interval, he had traversed the west of France by the route he had marked out for himself, had raised fifty more men among the Huguenots of Brittany, and had been joined on the route by many gentlemen with parties of their retainers.

  Several bodies of Catholics had been met and dispersed. Two or three small towns, where the Huguenots had been ill treated and massacred, were entered. The ringleaders in the persecutions had been hung, and the authorities had been compelled to pay a heavy fine, under threat of the whole town being committed to the flames. Everywhere he passed La Noue had caused proclamations to be scattered far and wide, to the effect that any ill treatment of Huguenots would be followed by his return, and by the heaviest punishment being inflicted upon all who molested them.

  And so, having given great encouragement to the Huguenots, and scattered terror among their persecutors; having ridden great distances, and astonished the people of the western provinces by
his energy and activity; La Noue joined the Prince of Conde, with three hundred men. He was heartily welcomed on his arrival at the Huguenot camp at Saint Denis.

  Francois de Laville and Philip Fletcher had thoroughly enjoyed the expedition. They had often been in the saddle from early morning to late at night; and had felt the benefit of having each two horses as, when the party halted for a day or two, they were often sent out with half their troop to visit distant places—to see friends; to bring into the camp magistrates, and others, who had been foremost in stirring up the people to attack the Huguenots; to enter small towns, throw open prisons and carry off the Huguenots confined there; and occasionally to hang the leaders of local massacres. In these cases they were always accompanied by one or other of the older leaders, in command of the party.

  Their spare chargers enabled them to be on horseback every day, while half the troop rested in turn. Sometimes their halts were made in small towns and villages, but more often they bivouacked in the open country; being thus, the Count considered, more watchful and less apt to be surprised.

  On their return from these expeditions, Pierre always had a meal prepared for them. In addition to the rations of meat and bread, chicken and eggs, he often contrived to serve up other and daintier food. His old poaching habits were not forgotten. As soon as the camp was formed, he would go out and set snares for hares, traps for birds, and lay lines in the nearest stream; while fish and game, of some sort, were generally added to the fare.

  “Upon my word,” the Count, who sometimes rode with them, said one evening, “this varlet of yours, Master Philip, is an invaluable fellow; and Conde, himself, cannot be better served than you are. I have half a mind to take him away from you, and to appoint him Provider-in-General to our camp. I warrant me he never learned thus to provide a table, honestly; he must have all the tricks of a poacher at his fingers’ end.”

  “I fancy, when he was young, he had to shift a good deal for himself, sir,” Philip replied.

  “I thought so,” La Noue laughed. “I marked him once or twice, behind your chair at Orleans; and methought, then, that he looked too grave to be honest; and there was a twinkle in his eye, that accorded badly with the gravity of his face, and his sober attire.

  “Well, there can be no doubt that, in war, a man who has a spice of the rogue in him makes the best of servants; provided he is but faithful to his master, and respects his goods, if he does those of no one else. Your rogue is necessarily a man of resources; and one of that kind will, on a campaign, make his master comfortable, where one with an over-scrupulous varlet will well-nigh starve. I had such a man, when I was with Brissac in Northern Italy; but one day he went out, and never returned. Whether a provost marshal did me the ill service of hanging him, or whether he was shot by the peasants, I never knew; but I missed him sorely, and often went fasting to bed, when I should have had a good supper had he been with me.

  “It is lucky for you both that you haven’t to depend upon that grim-visaged varlet of Francois’. I have no doubt that the countess thought she was doing well by my cousin, when she appointed him to go with him, and I can believe that he would give his life for him; but for all that, if you had to depend upon him for your meals, you would fare badly, indeed.”

  De la Noue was much disappointed, on joining the Prince, at finding that the latter’s force had not swollen to larger dimensions. He had with him, after the arrival of the force the Count had brought from the west, but two thousand horse. Of these a large proportion were gentlemen, attended only by a few personal retainers. A fifth only were provided with lances, and a large number had no defensive armour. Of foot soldiers he had about the same number as of horse, and of these about half were armed with arquebuses, the rest being pikemen.

  The force under the command of the Constable de Montmorency, inside the walls of Paris, was known to be enormously superior in strength; and the Huguenots were unable to understand why he did not come out to give them battle. They knew, however, that Count Aremberg was on his way from the Netherlands, with seventeen hundred horse, sent by the Duke of Alva to the support of the Catholics; and they supposed that Montmorency was waiting for this reinforcement.

  On the 9th of November news arrived that Aremberg was approaching, and D’Andelot, with five hundred horse and eight hundred of the best-trained arquebusiers, was despatched to seize Poissy, and so prevent Aremberg entering Paris.

  The next morning the Constable, learning that Conde had weakened his army by this detachment, marched out from Paris. Seldom have two European armies met with a greater disparity of numbers; for while Conde had but fifteen hundred horse and twelve hundred foot, the Constable marched out with sixteen thousand infantry, of whom six thousand were Swiss, and three thousand horse. He had eighteen pieces of artillery, while Conde was without a single cannon.

  As soon as this force was seen pouring out from the gates of Paris, the Huguenot trumpets blew to arms. All wore over their coats or armour a white scarf, the distinguishing badge of the Huguenots; and the horsemen were divided into three bodies. De la Noue and his following formed part of that under the personal command of Conde.

  “We longed to be here in time for this battle, Philip,” Francois said; “but I think this is rather more than we bargained for. They must be nearly ten to one against us. There is one thing: although the Swiss are good soldiers, the rest of their infantry are for the most part Parisians, and though these gentry have proved themselves very valiant in the massacre of unarmed Huguenot men, women, and children, I have no belief in their valour, when they have to meet men with swords in their hands. I would, however, that D’Andelot, with his five hundred horse and eight hundred arquebusiers, all picked men, were here with us; even if Aremberg, with his seventeen hundred horse, were ranged under the Constable.

  “As it is, I can hardly believe that Conde and the Admiral will really lead us against that huge mass. I should think that they can but be going to manoeuvre so as to fall back in good order, and show a firm face to the enemy. Their footmen would then be of no use to them and, as I do not think their horse are more than twice our strength, we might turn upon them when we get them away from their infantry, and beyond the range of their cannon.”

  As soon, however, as the troops were fairly beyond the gates of Saint Denis, the leaders placed themselves at the head of the three columns and, with a few inspiring words, led them forward. Coligny was on the right; La Rochefoucauld, Genlis, and other leaders on the left; and the column commanded by Conde, himself, in the centre.

  Conde, with a number of nobles and gentlemen, rode in front of the line. Behind them came the men-at-arms with lances, while those armed only with swords and pistols followed.

  Coligny, on the right, was most advanced, and commenced the battle by charging furiously down upon the enemy’s left.

  Facing Conde were the great mass of the Catholic infantry but, without a moment’s hesitation, the little band of but five hundred horse charged right down upon them. Fortunately for them it was the Parisians, and not the Swiss, upon whom their assault fell. The force and impetus of their rush was too much for the Parisians, who broke at the onset, threw away their arms, and fled in a disorderly mob towards the gates of Paris.

  “Never mind those cowards,” the Prince shouted, “there is nobler game!” and, followed by his troop, he rode at the Constable; who, with a thousand horse, had taken his post behind the infantry. Before this body of cavalry could advance to meet the Huguenots, the latter were among them, and a desperate hand-to-hand melee took place. Gradually the Huguenots won their way into the mass; although the old Constable, fighting as stoutly as the youngest soldier, was setting a splendid example to his troops.

  Robert Stuart, a Scotch gentleman in Conde’s train, fought his way up to him and demanded his surrender. The Constable’s reply was a blow with the hilt of the sword which nearly struck Stuart from his horse, knocking out three of his teeth. A moment later the Constable was struck by a pistol ball, but whether it was
fired by Stuart himself, or one of the gentlemen by his side, was never known. The Constable fell, but the fight still raged.

  The Royalists, recovered from the first shock, were now pressing their adversaries. Conde’s horse was shot by a musket ball and, in falling, pinned him to the ground so that he was unable to extricate himself. De la Noue, followed by Francois and Philip, who were fighting by his side, and other gentlemen, saw his peril and, rushing forward, drove back Conde’s assailants. Two gentlemen, leaping from their horses, extricated the Prince from his fallen steed and, after hard fighting, placed him on a horse before one of them; and the troops, repulsing every attack made on them, fell slowly back to Saint Denis.

  On the right, Coligny had more than held his own against the enemy; but on the left the Huguenots, encountering Marshal de Montmorency, the eldest son of the Constable, and suffering heavily from the arquebus and artillery fire, had been repulsed; and the Catholics here had gained considerable advantages. The flight of a large portion of the infantry, and the disorder caused in the cavalry by the charges of Conde and Coligny, prevented the Marshal from following up his advantage; and as the Huguenots fell back upon Saint Denis the Royalists retired into Paris, where the wounded Constable had already been carried.

  Victory was claimed by both sides, but belonged to neither. Each party had lost about four hundred men, a matter of much greater consequence to the Huguenots than to the Catholics, the more so as a large proportion of the slain on their side were gentlemen of rank. Upon the other hand the loss of the Constable, who died next day, paralysed for a time the Catholic forces.

  A staunch and even bigoted Catholic, and opposed to any terms of toleration being granted to the Huguenots, he was opposed to the ambition of the Guises; and was the head of the Royalist party, as distinguished from that of Lorraine. Catharine, who was the moving spirit of the court, hesitated to give the power he possessed, as Constable, into hands that might use it against her; and persuaded the king to bestow the supreme command of the army upon his brother, Henri, Duke of Anjou. The divisions in the court, caused by the death of the Constable and the question of his successor, prevented any fresh movements of the army; and enabled the Prince of Conde, after being rejoined by D’Andelot’s force, to retire unmolested three days after the battle; the advanced guard of the Royalists having been driven back into Paris by D’Andelot on his return when, in his disappointment at being absent from the battle, he fell fiercely upon the enemy, and pursued them hotly to the gates, burning several windmills close under the walls.