For The Admiral Part 11

"It is over, monsieur."

Renaud L'Estang stood before me, his face drawn and haggard, and heavy with a great grief. He had stolen in noiselessly; his sword and pistol lay within reach of his hand; he might have killed me without effort, and saved his own life. The thought flashed into my mind, but died away instantly. From the moment when he told his story I had never once mistrusted him.

"Your mother has pa.s.sed away?" I questioned in a tone of sympathy.

"She died in my arms; her last moments were full of peace. Now, I am at your service."

"You are faint," I said. "Will it not be advisable to break your fast before starting out? You will need all your strength."

"I cannot eat."

"Yet it is necessary. Pardon me if I summon your servant."

He allowed himself to be treated almost as a child, eating and drinking mechanically what was set before him, hardly conscious of my presence, unable to detach his thoughts from the sombre picture in the adjoining apartment. At last he had finished, and I said gently, "Have you made arrangements for your mother's burial?"

"They are all made," he replied gravely.

"There is your sword," I remarked, pointing to the weapon lying on the table.

"Let it lie monsieur," he answered with a mournful smile; "a dead man has no use for a sword."

Now I may have done a very foolish thing, for this L'Estang was a daring soldier, crafty, able, and resolute. He was an enemy to be feared far more than many a general in the armies of the League. All this was well known to me, and yet I could not harden my heart against him. I had meant to denounce him to the Admiral, but at the last moment my courage failed. How could I condemn to death this man who had freely risked his life to comfort his mother's last moments?

"Monsieur," I said awkwardly, "listen to me. When I met you in the city, I jumped to the conclusion that you had come to Roch.e.l.le as a spy. You told me your story, and I believed it; but you have doubtless many enemies who will laugh at it. They will say----"

"Nothing, monsieur; I shall go to the block without words. Renaud L'Estang will find no mercy in Roch.e.l.le, and asks none."

There was no hint of bravado in his speech; it was but the expression of a man of intrepid courage and iron will.

"Once more listen," I said. "Had you come to Roch.e.l.le as a spy I should have handed you over to our troops without hesitation; but I am regarding you, not as the servant of Anjou but as a tender and loving son. I cannot have on my hands the blood of a man who has shown such affection for his mother. I propose to accompany you to the gate, and there to set you at liberty."

He stood like one suddenly stricken dumb. His limbs trembled, the muscles of his face twitched convulsively; he gazed at me with unseeing eyes.

"Monsieur," he said after a time, "I do not comprehend. Is it that you give me, Renaud L'Estang, my life? No, I must have mistaken your words."

"You have made no mistake. As far as I am concerned you are free. I ask but one thing, Renaud L'Estang. Some day you may be able to show mercy to one of your foes. Should such a time arrive, remember that once mercy was not withheld from you."

He did not speak, but motioned me with his hand to follow him. We entered the chamber of death, and he knelt reverently by the bedside.

Then, in low, pa.s.sionate tones, calling on the dead woman by name, he made a solemn vow that, should it ever be in his power, he would repay the debt he owed me, even at the sacrifice of life and all he held most dear.

"I must fight for my side," he said, "but no Huguenot shall ever seek quarter from me in vain."

He buckled on his sword, and we went out together in the dull grey morning. Few persons were abroad, and none presumed to question one of the Admiral's household. My companion fetched his horse from the inn, and I walked with him until we were well beyond the walls of the town.

Then I came to a halt, saying: "Here we part; now you must depend on yourself for safety."

He doffed his plumed hat. "Monsieur," he said, "the friends of Renaud L'Estang would laugh on being told he was at a loss for words; yet it is true. I cannot express my grat.i.tude; I can but pray that I may have an opportunity of proving it. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" I replied, and when he had ridden some distance I returned thoughtfully to the city.

Felix, who was on duty at the hotel, looked at me curiously. "Where have you been?" he asked. "We expected you last night, and concluded you must have been detained on some special service. I have been wearing myself to a shadow on your account!"

I made some commonplace excuse and left him, saying I was tired and wished to sleep; for, though I did not regret my action, I could hardly refrain from doubting its wisdom.

At first the incident occupied a large portion of my thoughts, but as the days pa.s.sed into weeks the memory of it wore off.

Winter had set in, and we knew the campaign would not open until the spring of the next year. It was a trying time; the cold was intense--the oldest veteran had never known such a keen frost--and much sickness broke out among the troops. The good Admiral tended them with the devotion of a father, spending himself in their service, and we of his household were kept busy from morning till night.

In spite of every care, however, our losses were enormous, and the prospect became very gloomy. Every one looked forward with eagerness to the coming of spring.

"If the winter lasts much longer," said Roger Braund, one night when we had all met at my aunt's house, "there will be no army left."

"A little more patience," my father exclaimed smilingly; "once the campaign begins you will have no cause to complain of inaction!"

"Faith," laughed Felix, "if he rides with the Admiral, he will be regretting sometimes having left the comforts of Roch.e.l.le."

"I shall probably do that," said Roger, glancing at my sister, "even without the hard riding."

"Then you are a caitiff knight and no true soldier," I broke in hastily, for Jeanne was blushing furiously, and my comrade's face had lost its merriment; "but, really, things are becoming serious; more than a score of men have died to-day!"

"Poor fellows!" said my mother tenderly; "if those who force us into these cruel wars could only realize the misery they cause!"

"I fear, madame," remarked Roger, "that the suffering troubles them little, as long as they can gain their ends."

About a week after this conversation there were signs that our long inactivity was drawing to a close. The weather became far milder; the ice began to thaw, and it was possible for the soldiers to pa.s.s the nights in some degree of comfort. Orders were issued to the various leaders, carts were collected and filled with stores, bodies of troops marched out from the city, and preparations for the campaign were actively pushed forward.

"I really believe," said Felix one morning, "that we are about to move.

Conde has issued instructions for all his followers to hold themselves in readiness, and a body of infantry left Roch.e.l.le an hour ago."

We were on duty in the Admiral's ante-chamber, and my comrade had just finished speaking when our leader, attended as usual by the Sieur de Guerchy, ascended the staircase. He glanced round at us with his kindly smile, and, clapping me lightly on the shoulder, exclaimed: "A word with you in my room, Monsieur Le Blanc."

Expecting some trifling commission, such as often fell to his gentlemen of the bodyguard, I followed him into the apartment, and stood waiting to hear his commands.

"A prudent youth, De Guerchy," he remarked to his companion, "and not without experience. He it was who brought the timely warning to Tanlay.

His father is the Sieur Le Blanc."

"A gallant soldier!" said De Guerchy with decision.

"And I think the lad will follow in his father's footsteps. I am about to send him to Saint Jean d'Angely, and to Cognac," adding, with a laugh, "'tis a far less distance than to Tanlay."

"But the commission is almost as important," said De Guerchy.

"Much less dangerous though," and, turning to me, he added: "Can you carry a letter to the commandant at Cognac?"

"I will do my best, my lord."

"Then make your preparations; I shall be ready for you at the end of two hours."

I saluted and returned to the ante-chamber, where Felix, catching sight of my smiling face, exclaimed: "More good fortune, Edmond? I shall be jealous of you soon! Why do the Fates select you for their favours?"