by G. A. Henty
“At any rate, I got a mark of the wolves’ teeth, which has put a stop to my hunting, as you see,” and he held out his arm. “I left my right hand on the field of battle. It was in the fight round Conde. A young Huguenot—for he was smooth faced, and but a youth—shred it off with a sweeping backhanded blow, as if it had been a twig. So there is no more wolf hunting for me; but even if I had my right hand back again, I should not care for any more such rough sport as that.”
Philip congratulated himself that he was sitting with his back to the speaker, for he remembered the incident well, and it was his arm that had struck the blow. His visor had been up; but as his face was shaded by the helmet and cheek pieces, and the man could have obtained but a passing glance at him, he felt sure, on reflection, that he would not be recognized.
“Ah, well, we shall do better this time,” the first speaker said. “We are better prepared than we were then and, except La Rochelle and four or five small towns, every place in France is in our hands. I expect the next news will be that the prince and Coligny, and the others, have taken ship for England. Then, when that pestilent Queen of Navarre and her boy are in our hands, the whole thing will be over; and the last edict will be carried out, and each Huguenot will have the choice between the mass and the gallows.
“Well, I will have one more stoup of wine, and then I will be off, for we march at daybreak.”
“How many ride out with you?” the man who had lost his hand asked.
“A hundred. The town has voted the funds, and we march to join D’Escars tomorrow. I believe we are not going to Perigueux, but are to be stationed somewhere on the lower Dordogne, to prevent any of the Huguenots from the south making their way towards La Rochelle.”
The frequenters of the cabaret presently dropped off. Jacques, who acted as spokesman, had on entering asked the landlord if they could sleep there; and he said there was plenty of good hay, in the loft over the stable. As his duties were now over, he came across to them.
“Which way are you going, lads?” he asked. “Are you bound, like the others, to join one of the lords on the Dordogne?”
“No,” Jacques said, “we are bound for Agen. We come from near there.”
“I thought your tongue had a smack of Gascon in it.”
“Yes, we come from across the border. We are tired of hard work in the vineyards, and are going to take up with our own trade; for my comrade, here, and I served under De Brissac, in Italy. We would rather enlist under our own lord than under a stranger.”
“Yes, that I can understand,” the landlord said; “but you will find it no easy work travelling, at present; when every bridge and ford across the rivers is watched by armed men, and all who pass are questioned, sharply, as to their business.”
“Well, if they won’t let us pass,” Jacques said carelessly, “we must join some leader here; though I should like to have had a few days at home, first.”
“Your best plan would have been to have gone by boat to Bordeaux. There has been a strong wind from the west, for the last three days, and it would save you many a mile of weary tramping.”
“That it would,” Jacques said; “but could one get a passage?”
“There will be no difficulty about that. There is not a day passes, now that the wind is fair, that three or four boats do not go off to Bordeaux, with produce from the farms and vineyards. Of course, you wouldn’t get up without paying; but I suppose you are not without something in your pockets.
“There is a cousin of mine, a farmer, who is starting in the morning, and has chartered a boat to carry his produce. If I say a word to him, I have no doubt he would give the four of you a passage, for a crown.”
“What do you say, comrades?” Jacques said. “It would save us some thirty or forty miles walking, and perhaps some expense for ferrys; to say nought of trouble with the troops, who are apt enough, moreover, to search the pockets of those who pass.”
“I think it would be a good plan,” his brother replied; and the other two also assented.
“Very well then,” the landlord said; “my cousin will be here in the morning, for he is going to leave two or three barrels of last year’s vintage with me. By the way, I daresay he will be easy with you as to the passage money, if you agree to help him carry up his barrels to the magazine of the merchant he deals with, and aid him with his other goods. It will save him from having to employ men there, and those porters of Bordeaux know how to charge pretty high for their services.
“I will make you up a basket for your journey. Shall I say a bottle of wine each, and some bread, and a couple of dozen eggs, which I will get boiled hard for you?”
“That will do well, landlord,” Jacques said, “and we thank you, for having put us in the way of saving our legs tomorrow. What time do you think your cousin will be in?”
“He will have his carts at the gates by the time they open them. He is not one to waste time; besides, every minute is of importance for, with this wind, he may well hope to arrive at Bordeaux in time to get his cargo discharged by nightfall.”
“That was a lucky stroke, indeed,” Philip said, when they had gained the loft; and the landlord, having hung up a lantern, had left them alone. “Half our difficulties will be over, when we get to Bordeaux. I had begun to fear, from what we heard of the watch they are keeping at the bridges, that we should have found it a very difficult matter crossing the rivers. Once out of Bordeaux the Ciron is the only stream we shall have to cross, and that is but a small river, and is not likely to be watched; for no one making his way from the south to La Rochelle would keep to the west of the Garonne.”
They were downstairs by six, had a meal of bread and spiced wine; and soon after seven there was a rumble of carts outside, and two of them stopped at the cabaret. They were laden principally with barrels of wine; but in one the farmer’s wife was sitting, surrounded by baskets of eggs, fowls, and ducks, and several casks of butter.
Three of the casks of wine were taken down, and carried into the house. The landlord had a chat apart with his cousin, who then came forward to where they were sitting at a table.
“My cousin tells me you want to go to Bordeaux, and are willing to help load my boat, and to carry the barrels to the warehouse at Bordeaux, in return for a passage. Well, I agree to the bargain. The warehouse is not very far from the wharf, but the men there charge an extortionate price.”
“We will do your work,” Jacques said.
“But how am I to know that, when you land, you will not slip away without fulfilling your share of the bargain?” the farmer asked. “You look honest fellows, but soldiers are not gentry to be always depended upon. I mean no offence, but business is business, you know.”
Jacques put his hand in his pocket.
“Here is a crown,” he said. “I will hand it over to you, as earnest. If we do not do your work, you can keep that to pay the hire of the men to carry your barrels.”
“That is fair enough,” the farmer said, pocketing the coin. “Now, let us go without delay.”
The landlord had already been paid for the supper of the night before, the lodging, and the contents of the basket; and without more words, they set out with the cart to the riverside. Here the boat was in waiting, and they at once set to work, with the drivers of the two carts, to transfer their contents to it. As they were as anxious as the farmer that no time should be lost, they worked hard, and in a quarter of an hour all was on board.
They took their places in the bow; the farmer, his wife, and the two boatmen being separated from them by the pile of barrels. The sail was at once hoisted and, as the west wind was still blowing strongly, Blaye was soon left behind.
“This is better than walking, by a long way,” Philip said. “We are out of practice, and my feet are tender from the tramp from the coast. It would have taken us two days to get to Bordeaux, even if we had no trouble in crossing the Dordogne, and every hour is of importance. I hope we may get out of the city before the gates close, then we shall be a
ble to push on all night.”
They passed several islands on their way and, after four hours’ run, saw the walls and spires of Bourg, where the Dordogne unites with the Garonne to form the great estuary known as the Gironde.
At three o’clock they were alongside the wharves of Bordeaux. They stowed away their steel caps and swords, and at once prepared to carry up the barrels.
“Do you make an excuse to move off, master,” Pierre said; “we three will soon get these barrels into the store, and it is no fitting work for you.”
“Honest work is fitting work, Pierre, and methinks that my shoulders are stronger than yours. I have had my sail, and I am going to pay for it by my share of the work.”
The store was nearer than Philip had expected to find it. A wide road ran along by the river bank, and upon the other side of this was a line of low warehouses, all occupied by the wine merchants; who purchased the produce of their vineyards from the growers and, after keeping it until it matured, supplied France and foreign countries with it.
Several ships lay by the wharves. Some were bound for England, others for Holland. Some were freighted for the northern ports of France, and some, of smaller size, for Paris itself. Several men came up to offer their services, as soon as the boat was alongside; and these, when they saw that the owner of the wines had brought men with them, who would transport the wine to the warehouses, indulged in some rough jeers before moving away.
In the first place Philip and his companions, aided by the boatmen, carried the cargo ashore; while the farmer crossed the road to the merchant with whom he dealt. His store was not more than fifty yards from the place of landing and, as soon as he returned, the work began. In an hour and a half the whole of the barrels were carried over. The farmer’s wife had seen to the carriage of her portion of the cargo to the inn her husband frequented on these occasions. It was close to the marketplace, and there she would, as soon as the market opened in the morning, dispose of them; and by nine o’clock they would be on board again. When the last barrel was carried into the store, the farmer handed Jacques the crown he had taken, as pledge for the performance of the bargain.
“You are smart fellows,” he said, “and nimble. The same number of these towns fellows would have taken double the time that you have done; and I must have had six, at least, to have got the wine safely stored before nightfall.”
“We are well contented with our bargain,” Jacques said. “It is better to work hard for two hours, than to walk for two days. So good day to you, master, for we shall get on our way at once, and do not want to spend our money in the wine shops here.”
Possessing themselves of their steel caps and swords again, they made their way through the busy town to the south gates; through which a stream of peasants, with carts, horses, and donkeys was passing out, having disposed of the produce they had brought in.
“Where are you bound to, you two with steel caps?” the officer at the gate asked.
Jacques and his brother paused, while Philip and Pierre, who had stowed their caps in the bundles they carried, went on without stopping; as it had previously been agreed that, in case of one or more of his followers being stopped, Philip should continue his way; as it was urgent that he should not suffer anything to delay him in the delivery of his message. He waited, however, a quarter of a mile from the gates, and the two men then rejoined him.
“We had no difficulty, sir,” Jacques said. “We said that we once had served, and were going to do so again, having grown sick working in the vineyards; and that we had come up from Blaye with a cargo of wine, and had taken our discharge, and were now bound for Agen to see our families, before joining the force that the Viscount de Rouillac, under whom our father held a farm, would no doubt be putting in the field. That was sufficient, and he let us go on without further question; except that he said that we should have done better by going up to Saintes, or Cognac, and taking service with the force there, instead of making this long journey up to Agen.”
They walked steadily on until, when it was nearly midnight, they arrived at a small village on the banks of the Ciron. As the inhabitants would have been in bed, hours before, they made up their minds not to attempt to find a shelter there; but to cross by the bridge, and sleep in the first clump of trees they came to. As they approached the bridge, however, they saw a fire burning in the centre of the road. Two men were sitting beside it, and several others lay round.
“Soldiers!” Philip said. “It would not do to try to cross, at this time of night. We will retire beyond the village, and wait until morning.”
They turned off into a vineyard, as soon as they were outside the village; and lay down among the vines that had, some weeks before, been cleared of their grapes.
“How far does this river run before it becomes fordable, Jacques?”
“I do not know, sir. There are hills run along, in a line with the Garonne, some ten or twelve miles back; and I should say that, when we get there, we shall certainly find points at which we might cross this stream.”
“That would waste nearly a day, and time is too precious for that. We will go straight on in the morning. Our story has been good enough, thus far. There is no reason why it should not carry us through.”
Accordingly, as soon as the sun was up they entered the village, and went into a cabaret and called for wine and bread.
“You are travelling early,” the landlord said.
“Yes, we have a long tramp before us, so we thought we had better perform part of it before breakfast.”
“These are busy times. Folks are passing through, one way or the other, all day. It is not for us innkeepers to grumble, but peace and quiet are all we want, about here. These constant wars and troubles are our ruin. The growers are all afraid to send their wine to market; for many of these armed bands are no better than brigands, and think much more of robbing, and plundering, than they do of fighting. I suppose, by your looks, you are going to take service with some lord or other?”
Jacques repeated the usual tale.
“Well, well, every man to his liking,” the landlord said; “but for my part, I can’t think what Frenchmen want to fly at each others’ throats for. We have got thirty soldiers quartered in the village now, though what they are doing here is more than I can imagine. We shall be glad when they are gone; for they are a rough lot, and their leader gives himself as many airs as if he had conquered the place. I believe they belong to a force that is lying at Bazas, some five leagues away. One would think that the Queen of Navarre had got a big Huguenot army together, and was marching north.”
“I should not think she could raise an army,” Philip said carelessly; “and if she is wise, she will stop quietly down in Bearn.”
“There is a rumour here,” the landlord said, “that she is at Nerac, with only a small party of gentlemen; and that she is on her way to Paris, to assure the king that she has no part in these troubles. I don’t know whether that has anything to do with the troops; who, as I hear, are swarming all over the country. They say that there are fifteen hundred men at Agen.”
“I am afraid we shall have trouble at this bridge,” Philip said, as the landlord left them. “They seem to be a rough lot, and this truculent lieutenant may not be satisfied with a story that his betters would accept, without question. We will ask our host if there is any place where the river can be forded, without going too far up. We can all swim and, as the river is no great width, we can make a shift to get across, even if the ford is a bad one.”
The landlord presently returned. Jacques put the question:
“By your account of those fellows at the bridge, we might have trouble with them?”
“As like as not,” the landlord said. “They worry and vex all who come past, insult quiet people; and have seized several, who have happened to have no papers of domicile about them, and sent them off to Bazas. They killed a man who resented their rough usage, two days ago. There has been a talk, in the village, of sending a complaint of their c
onduct to the officer at Bazas; but perhaps he might do nothing and, if he didn’t, it would only make it the worse for us, here.”
“We don’t want troubles,” Jacques said, “and therefore, if we could pass the river without having to make too wide a detour, we would do so. Do you know of any fords?”
“Yes, there are two or three places where it can be crossed, when the water is low; and as there has been no rain, for some weeks past, you will be able to cross now, easily enough. There is one four miles higher up. You will see a clump of willow trees, on this side of the river; and there is a pile of stones, some five feet high, on the other. You enter the river close by the trees, and then keep straight for the pile of stones, which is some fifty yards higher up, for the ford crosses the river at an angle.”
“Well, we will take that way, then,” Jacques said. “It is better to lose an hour, than to have trouble here.”
An hour later, the party arrived at the ford and crossed it without difficulty, the water being little above their waists. Some miles farther, they saw ahead of them the towers of Bazas; and struck off from the road they were traversing, to pass to the east of it. They presently came upon a wide road.
“This must be the road to Nerac,” Philip said. “There are neither rivers nor places of any size to be passed, now. The only danger is from bodies of horse watching the road.”
“And if I mistake not, sir, there is one of them approaching now,” Pierre said, pointing ahead.
As he spoke, the heads and shoulders of a body of horsemen were seen, as they rode up from a dip the road made into a hollow, half a mile away.
