The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  Philip glanced round. The country was flat, and it was too late to think of concealment.

  “We will go quietly on,” he said. “We must hope they will not interfere with us.”

  The troop consisted of some twenty men, two gentlemen riding at their head; and as they came up, they checked their horses.

  “Whither come you, and where are you bound, my men?”

  “We come from Bordeaux, sir, and we are bound for Agen,” Jacques replied. “My comrade and I served under De Brissac, when we were mere lads, and we have a fancy to try the old trade again; and our young cousins also want to try their metal.”

  “You are a Gascon, by your tongue?”

  “That is so,” Jacques said; “and it is for that reason we are going south. We would rather fight in a company of our own people than with strangers.”

  “Whom have you been serving at Bordeaux? I am from the city, and know most of those in and round it.”

  “We have not been working there, sir. We come from near Blaye, and made the journey thence to Bordeaux by a boat with our master, Jacques Blazin, who was bringing to Bordeaux a cargo of his wines.”

  “Why waste time, Raoul?” the other gentleman said, impatiently. “What matter if they came from Bordeaux or Blaye, these are not of those whom we are here to arrest. Anyhow they are not Huguenot lords, but look what they say they are; but whether men-at-arms, or peasants, they concern us not. Maybe, while we are questioning them, a party of those we are in search of may be traversing some other road. Let us be riding forward.”

  He roughly pricked his horse with his spur, and the troop rode on.

  “I think you are wrong to be so impatient, Louis,” the one who had acted as interrogator said. “Anyone could see, with half an eye, that those two fellows were, as they said, old men-at-arms. There is a straightness and a stiffness about men who have been under the hands of the drill sergeant there is no mistaking; and I could swear that fellow is a Gascon, as he said.

  “But I am not so sure as to one of the young fellows with them. I was about to question him, when you broke in. He did not look to me like a young peasant, and I should not be at all surprised if he is some Huguenot gentleman, making his way to Nerac with three of his followers.”

  “Well, if it was so, Raoul, he will not swell the queen’s army to any dangerous extent. I am glad that you didn’t ask him any questions; for if he declared himself a Huguenot—and to do them justice, the Huguenots will never deny their faith—I suppose it would have been our duty to have fallen upon them and slaughtered them; and though I am willing enough to draw, when numbers are nearly equal and it is a fair fight, I will take no part in the slaughter of men when we are twenty to one against them. Three or four men, more or less, at Nerac will make no difference. The Queen of Navarre has but some fifty men in all and, whenever the orders come to seize her and her son, it may be done easily enough, whether she has fifty or a hundred with her.

  “War is all well enough, Raoul, but the slaughtering of solitary men is not an occupation that suits me. I am a good Catholic, I hope, but I abhor these massacres of defenceless people, only because they want to worship in their own way. I look to the pope as the head of my religion on earth, but why should I treat as a mortal enemy a man who does not recognize the pope’s authority?”

  “That is dangerous doctrine, Louis.”

  “Yes, but why should it be? You and I were both at the colloquy at Poissy, and we saw that the Cardinal of Lorraine, and all the bishops, failed totally to answer the arguments of the Huguenot minister Beza. The matter was utterly beyond me and, had Beza argued ten times as strongly as he did, it would in no way have shaken my faith; but I contend that if Lorraine himself and the bishops could not show this man to be wrong, there can be nothing in these people’s interpretation of Scripture that can be so terrible as to deserve death. If they become dangerous to the state, I am ready to fight against them, as against any other enemies of France; but I can see nothing that can excuse the persecutions and massacres. And if these men be enemies of France, of which as yet no proof has been shown, it is because they have been driven to it, by persecution.”

  “Louis, my cousin,” the other said, “it is dangerous, indeed, in these days to form an opinion. You must remember our greatest statesman, L’Hopital, has fallen into some disgrace, and has been deprived of rank and dignity, because he has been an advocate of toleration.”

  “I know that, Raoul; but I also know there are numbers of our nobles and gentlemen who, although staunch Catholics, are sickened at seeing the king acting as the tool of Philip of Spain and the pope; and who shudder, as I do, at beholding France stained with blood from end to end, simply because people choose to worship God in their own way. You must remember that these people are not the ignorant scum of our towns, but that among them are a large number of our best and wisest heads. I shall fight no less staunchly, when fighting has to be done, because I am convinced that it is all wrong. If they are in arms against the king, I must be in arms for him; but I hope none the less that, when arms are laid down, there will be a cessation of persecution—at any rate, a cessation of massacre. It is bringing disgrace on us in the eyes of all Europe, and I trust that there may be a league made among us to withstand the Guises; and to insist that there shall be, in France, no repetition of the atrocities by which Philip of Spain, and the Duke of Alva, are trying to stamp out the reformed religion in the Netherlands.”

  “Well, I hope at any rate, Louis,” his cousin said impatiently, “that you will keep these opinions to yourself; for assuredly they will bring you into disgrace, and may even cost you your possessions and your head, if they are uttered in the presence of any friend of the Guises.”

  Chapter 11

  Jeanne Of Navarre

  “It is lucky,” Philip said to Jacques, as they proceeded on their way after the troop had ridden on, “that he did not think of asking us if we were Huguenots.”

  “I was expecting it myself, sir,” Jacques said; “and I was just turning it over in my conscience, how I could answer.”

  “There could be but one answer, Jacques; though no doubt it would have cost us our lives.”

  “I should not deny my faith, even to save my life, sir, if the question were put to me: ‘Are you a Huguenot?’ But I think that when four lives are at stake, it is lawful to take any opening there may be to get out of it.”

  “But how would there have been an opening, Jacques?”

  “Well, sir, you see, if he had asked, ‘Are you Huguenots?’ I think I could have said ‘No,’ with a clear conscience, seeing that you are an Englishman. Your religion may be like ours, but you are not a Huguenot; and although Pierre does not seem to me to have quite made up his mind as to what he is, assuredly I should not call him a Huguenot. So you see, sir, that as only two out of the four are Huguenots, there would have been no lie to my saying ‘no’ to that question. But if he had said ‘Are you Catholics?’ I must have answered ‘No,’ seeing that none of us go to mass.”

  “It is a nice question,” Philip said; “but seeing that the Catholics never keep their oaths and their promises to what they call heretics, I think that one would be justified, not in telling a lie, for nothing can justify that, but in availing one’s self of a loophole such as one would scorn to use, to others. I should be sorry to have the question asked me, though seeing I am not myself a Huguenot, although I am fighting with them, I think that I could reply ‘no;’ especially as it is not a question of my own life only, but one involving the whole cause of the Huguenots.

  “If I were in your place, I don’t know that I should do so; but as you say that you could do it, without your conscience pricking you, I certainly should not put pressure upon you to say ‘yes.’ However, I hope you may never be asked the question, and that we shall meet with no more interruptions until we get to Nerac. There can be little doubt that, at present, the Catholics have received no orders to seize the queen and her son at Nerac; although they have orders to p
revent her, at all costs, from going forward to Paris except under escort; and are keeping a sharp lookout, to prevent her from being joined by parties of Huguenots who would render her force formidable.

  “I should hope that, by this time, we are past the last of their bands. Those we met just now doubtless belonged to the force gathered in Bazas; and it is in the direction of the north, rather than the west, that the Catholics are most vigilant. If she succeeds in making her way through them, it will be well nigh a miracle.

  “Now that we are well past Bazas, we will leave the road and make our way across the fields; for it is upon the roads that any watch there may be will be set.”

  It was a long day’s journey, and at eight o’clock in the evening they lay down in a wood, ten miles from Nerac; having walked fully fifty miles since crossing the river Ciron.

  “I am very glad, Monsieur Philip, that we were not here four hours earlier.”

  “Why, Pierre?”

  “Because, sir, in that case you would have insisted on pushing on to Nerac, so as to enter it before the gate is closed; and in that case I doubt whether, with the best will, I could have got that far, and I am sure that Jacques and Roger could not have done so.”

  “No, indeed,” Jacques said, “I have done my last inch. For the last four hours I felt as if walking upon hot irons, so sore are my feet; and indeed, I could not have travelled at all, if I had not taken your advice and gone barefoot.”

  They had bought some wine and bread in a little village through which they had passed and, as soon as they had finished their supper, they lay down to sleep. They were up next morning long before daybreak, and were at the gates of Nerac before they opened. A group of countrymen were gathered there and, as soon as the drawbridge was lowered, they entered the town with them. They observed that there were sentries all round the walls, and that a keen watch was kept. As Philip was aware, the majority of the inhabitants there were Huguenots, and the governor was a nobleman of Bearn; and it was doubtless for this reason that the Queen of Navarre had halted there, as Nerac was a strong town, and not to be taken without a regular siege.

  They had no difficulty in ascertaining where the queen was lodged. Early as it was, several Huguenot gentlemen, armed to the teeth, were gathered round the door. Philip, leaving his companions behind him, went up to the group and, addressing one of them, said:

  “I am the bearer of a message for the queen. It is important. May I pray you, sir, to cause this ring to be conveyed to her. It is a token that she will recognize.”

  The gentleman glanced at the ring.

  “She may well do that,” he said, “seeing that it bears her own cognizance. The queen is already up, and I will cause it to be sent in to her, at once.”

  Two minutes later another gentleman came out.

  “Her majesty will at once see the messenger who has brought the ring,” he said, and Philip at once followed him into the house.

  He was conducted to a room where a lady was sitting whom he recognized, by the descriptions he had read of her, as the Queen of Navarre. Beside her stood a lad of fifteen.

  “You come from the Admiral!” she said. “Have you despatches for me?”

  “I have a paper sewn up in my boot, your majesty; but it was read over to me several times, in case either water or wear should render it illegible.”

  “He has reached La Rochelle safely, as I heard three days since,” the queen said, “with but a small following?”

  “He and the prince had over five hundred with them, when they rode in, your majesty; and parties were arriving, hourly, to swell his force. On the day I left he was going out to attack Niort and, that captured, he was going to move south. That was the message I was charged to deliver. You will find him either in Cognac, or in front of that town.”

  “That is good news, indeed,” the queen said, “for I should have had to make a wide detour to pass round the Charente, all the towns and bridges being held by our enemies. It will be difficult enough to cross the intervening rivers. Indeed, as the news that I had started hence would arrive, long before I did myself, it would be hopeless to elude their vigilance; and I should have had to make a long bend to the east, and might well have been cut off before I could reach him.

  “And who are you, sir, that the Admiral should think fit to intrust so important a message to you?”

  “I am English born, madam, and my name is Philip Fletcher. My mother was French, being the daughter of the Count de Moulins; and she sent me over to reside with her sister, the Countess of Laville, in order that I might fight for the cause of the religion, by the side of my cousin Francois. I rode with him through the last campaign, in the train of Francois de la Noue and, having had the good fortune to attract the notice of the Prince of Conde and the Admiral, they selected me to bear this message to you; thinking that, being but a lad, I should better escape suspicion and question than a French gentleman would do; especially as he would risk being recognized, while my face would be altogether unknown.

  “Now, if your majesty will permit me, I will open the lining of my shoe. You will find, however, that the despatch contains but a few words. At first the Admiral thought only to give me a message; but he afterwards wrote what he had said, in order that, should any evil befall me by the way, one of the three men who accompanied me should take my shoe and bring it to your majesty.”

  By this time he had slit open the lining of his shoe with his knife, and handed the little piece of paper to the queen. It contained only the words:

  “All goes well. Am hoping to see you. You will find me in or near Cognac.”

  There was no signature.

  “You have done good service to the cause, Monsieur Fletcher,” the queen said. “How did you manage to pass south, for I hear that every bridge and ford is guarded by the Catholics?”

  Philip gave a brief account of his journey.

  “You have acted prudently and well, young sir; and fully justified the Admiral’s confidence in your prudence. What are your orders now?”

  “They are simply to accompany your majesty on your way north, if it be your pleasure to permit me to ride in your train.”

  “I shall do that right willingly, sir; and it will be a pleasure for my son to hear, from your lips, a full account of your journey hither, and something of your native land, in which it may be that he will be, some day, compelled to take refuge.”

  “You shall ride by my side, Monsieur Philip,” the young prince said. “You look as if you could laugh and joke. These Huguenot lords are brave and faithful, but they have ever serious faces.”

  “Hush, Henri! It is not fitting to speak so. They are brave and good men.”

  “They may be that, mother, but they weary me dreadfully; and I am sure it would be much more cheerful having this English gentleman as my companion.”

  The young prince was tall for his age, active and sinewy. His mother had brought him up as if he had been a peasant boy. As a child he had run about barefoot and, as he grew, had spent much of his time among the mountains, sometimes with shepherds, sometimes engaged in the chase. Jeanne herself had a horror of the corruption of the French court, and strove to make her son hardy and robust, with simple tastes and appetites; and preferring exercise, hard work, and hunter’s food to the life of the town. He had practised constantly in arms, and his mother regretted nothing so much as the fact that, next to the king and his brothers, he stood in succession to the French throne; and would have been far happier that he should rule, some day, over the simple and hardy people of Navarre.

  “The first thing to do, Monsieur Fletcher,” the queen said, “is to obtain more suitable garments for yourself and your followers. This my chamberlain shall see about, without delay. I will then present you to the gentlemen who accompany me. They are but a small party, but we have received promises from many others, who will join us on our way.

  “I may tell you it is already arranged that I shall set forward this evening. Monsieur D’Escars has, I hear, some fo
ur thousand gentlemen under arms; but these are widely scattered, and I hope to have a sufficient force to overcome them at any point we may make for. Some friends have secretly collected two or three boats near Tonneins, where there is but a small part of the Catholics assembled. Once past the Garonne, we shall feel safe for a time.”

  “Would it please you that I should ride on first to Tonneins, your majesty, and ascertain if the garrison there are not alert, and have no suspicion that you are about to cross so close to them? Being a stranger here I could pass unsuspected; while were any of the gentlemen with you seen near Tonneins, it would create suspicion that you, yourself, were about to cross in the neighbourhood.”

  “I thank you for that offer,” the queen said, “and will speak to you about it, later on.”

  As Philip had been furnished with money, he did not trouble the queen’s chamberlain, but at once purchased clothes for himself and his three followers, together with breast and back piece for Jacques and Roger. On his return to the queen, after an hour’s absence, he was informed that Prince Henri had made inquiries for him, and was shown into a room where the young prince was sitting down to his breakfast, the queen being engaged in business with some of her councillors.

  “That is right, Monsieur Fletcher. I have been waiting breakfast for you, for half an hour. Come, sit you down with me. I warrant you have been too busy, since you arrived at Nerac, to think of a meal.”

  “I don’t think, Prince,” Philip began, “that it would be seemly that I—”

  “Nonsense,” the prince interrupted, “we are not at the court of France, thank goodness, and we have no ceremony at Bearn. Besides, a simple gentleman may dine with the king, any day. So sit down without any more delay, and let me hear all your adventures.”

  Philip still hesitated, and the prince said:

  “I told my mother that I was going to have you to breakfast with me; and I believe she was well satisfied that I should, for a time, be out of her way.”

  This removed any doubt from Philip’s mind, and he at once sat down with the prince and ate a hearty meal; after which he chatted with him for an hour, telling him about the journey from La Rochelle, the rescue of the Huguenots near Niort, and some of the adventures in the last war.