For The Admiral Part 29

"That will do him more good than all the surgeon's skill!" I said.

The excitement of the closing scenes of the battle, the uncertainty as to my comrade's fate, and the long night's watch had driven from my head all remembrance of the incident connected with Henry of Bearn, but the prince himself had not forgotten.

During the forenoon he came riding over to Coligny's quarters, debonair and gracious as ever.

"I have come," said he to the Admiral, "not exactly to pay a debt, but to acknowledge it. I owe my life to one of your gentlemen; but for his bravery and skill with the sword Henry of Bearn would be food for the worms. I trust he still lives to accept my thanks."

"Le Blanc! It is Le Blanc!" murmured my comrades.

"That is the name," said the prince with his frank smile, "and there is the gentleman."

My comrades pushed me forward, and I advanced awkwardly, hot with confusion, but--I have no false shame about admitting the truth--my breast swelling with pride.

"Monsieur," exclaimed the prince genially, "yesterday we had leisure for but little speech, and my thanks were necessarily of the scantiest.

To-day I wish to acknowledge before your comrades in arms that, when I was sorely beset and had no thought except to sell my life dearly, you came in the most gallant manner to my rescue. I have not much to offer you, monsieur, beyond my friendship, but that is yours until the day of my death."

He paused here, and, unbuckling his sword, placed it in my hands, saying, "Here is the token of my promise. Should the day ever come when you ask in vain anything that I can grant, let all men call Henry of Bearn ingrate and traitor to his plighted word. I call you, my Lord Admiral, and you, gentlemen, to witness."

I tried to say something in reply, but the words were choked in my throat; not one would come. But a still higher honour was in store for me. The Admiral--the great and good leader whom we all worshipped--removing my sword, buckled on the prince's gift with his own hands.

"I rejoice," said he speaking slowly as was his wont, "that the son of the hero who died for the Cause at St. Jean d'Angely should thus add honour to his father's name."

I managed to stammer out a few words, and then my comrades crowded around, cheering me with generous enthusiasm. And, when the prince had gone, I had the further happiness of conducting the Admiral to our tent, and of hearing the words of praise he spoke to Felix, who would gladly have died a thousand deaths to have secured such honour.

I said nothing to him that day of the prince's gracious gift--he had already had as much excitement as he could bear--but Jacques, of course, had heard of it, and the trusty fellow showed as much pride as if he himself had received a patent of n.o.bility. Roger Braund, too, came to congratulate me, and his pleasure was so genuine that it made mine the greater. Altogether I think that day after the battle of Arnay-le-Duc was the most wonderful of my life.

The defeat of Marshal Cosse was so complete that we met with no further opposition, but pushed on to Chatillon, the sleepy little town which had the honour of being the birth-place of our n.o.ble chief. Having to attend on the Admiral, I left my wounded comrade in the care of Jacques, who made him as comfortable as possible in one of the wagons, and waited upon him day and night. Whenever opportunity offered I rode back to see him, and each time found to my delight that he was progressing favourably.

At last we reached the town and rode along the main street through groups of cheering citizens to the castle, a strong and ma.s.sive fortress with ample accommodation for thousands of persons. It stood in the midst of a vast enclosure, surrounded by a deep and wide fosse; and the thick walls, as Roger remarked, appeared capable of withstanding the a.s.saults of a well-equipped army.

Inside the enclosure were large gardens and handsome terraces, while the huge tower, sixty feet high, looked down into a wide and s.p.a.cious courtyard.

"This is pleasant and comfortable," said Roger that same evening, "but what does it mean? Why have we come here? I understood we were to march on Paris."

"I do not know; there is some talk of peace. Several important messengers were despatched post-haste to the king directly after the defeat of Cosse."

Roger shrugged his shoulders. "I think it a mistake," he said; "one should never come to terms with an enemy who is only half-beaten; it gives him time to recover."

"Well, this is pleasanter than marching through Dauphigny."

"So it is," he agreed laughingly; "what a magnificent old place it is!

Your n.o.bles are very powerful; almost too powerful for the king's comfort I should fancy. How is Felix?"

"Getting well rapidly, and clamouring to leave his bed. As usual, he is just a little too impatient."

"That is his chief failing," said Roger, "but he is a gallant fellow nevertheless. I wonder how your mother and sister are!"

"If we stay here, as seems likely, I shall despatch Jacques on a visit to Roch.e.l.le."

"Do not forget to say I send them my deepest respect and sympathy.

Indeed, Jacques might carry a little note from me."

"To my mother?" I asked mischievously.

"Of course," he replied, with a blush that became him well; but all the same when, a few days later, Jacques started on his journey, I noticed that Roger's letter was addressed to Jeanne. Perhaps being in a hurry he had made a mistake!

We pa.s.sed our time at Chatillon very pleasantly. Felix was soon able to leave his bed, and every day increased his strength. The rumours of an approaching peace became stronger, and at last it was announced that Coligny had signed a treaty, which secured to those of the Religion perfect freedom to worship as they pleased.

"As long as we keep our swords loose, and our horses saddled," said Felix, "but no longer," and Roger, rather to my surprise, agreed with him.

It was the time of evening, and we were walking on one of the terraces, when Jacques rode slowly into the courtyard. He looked tired and travel-stained, as was but natural, but his face wore a gloomy expression that could not be due to fatigue. I went down to him quickly with a sudden sinking of the heart.

"Well, Jacques, what news?" I cried, with forced cheerfulness.

"The country is quiet, monsieur, and the citizens are rejoicing in Roch.e.l.le."

"I care nothing for Roch.e.l.le just now; 'tis of my mother and sister I would hear. Are they well? Are they cheerful? Have they written to me?

Speak out, man; is your tongue in a knot?"

"I would it were," said he, "if that would alter the news I bring. You must brace yourself, monsieur, to face another calamity. But here is a letter from Mademoiselle Jeanne."

"From Jeanne?" I repeated, and at that I understood the truth. My mother was dead!

I read the blotted and tear-stained paper with moist eyes. On the very day when we started from Narbonne on our memorable march, my poor mother, who had never really recovered from the shock of my father's death, breathed her last. Concerning herself, Jeanne said little except that she was living in the household of the Queen of Navarre, who was holding her court at Roch.e.l.le.

After telling Felix and Roger the sad news, I went away to brood over my sorrow alone. It was a heavy blow, and the heavier because so unexpected. The chance that my mother might die during my absence had never struck me, and I had been looking forward impatiently to meeting her again.

Fortunately, the newly-signed peace brought me many active duties. The army was disbanded, and most of our chiefs began their preparations for a visit to Roch.e.l.le. Felix and I were kept busy, and indeed until the journey began we had few idle moments.

The little band of Englishmen who had survived the war--gallant hearts, they had spent themselves so recklessly that barely a dozen remained--accompanied us, and naturally we saw a great deal of Roger.

"I suppose," said Felix to him one day, "that now you will return to England?"

"My comrades are returning at once," he replied, "but I shall stay a while longer; perhaps even pay a visit to Paris before I leave."

"If you wish to see Paris," said Felix, "it will be well to go quickly, before the clouds burst again"; but Roger observed with a smile that he intended to stay in Roch.e.l.le for a few weeks at least.

Our entry into the city was very different from that after the rout of Montcontour. Cannon boomed, church bells rang merrily, the streets were gay with flags and flowers and triumphal arches; while the citizens, dressed in their best, with happy smiling faces, cheered until they were hoa.r.s.e, as the Admiral, with Henry of Bearn on his right and the youthful Conde on his left, rode through the gateway.

Jeanne, with several of the queen's ladies, was sitting in the balcony of the _Hotel Coligny_. Catching sight of us, she stood up and waved her hand, and we bowed low in our saddles, and smiled, and waved our hands in return.

"Your sister is more beautiful than ever, Edmond," said my comrade enthusiastically.

"She looked paler, I thought," I replied, as we turned into the courtyard; "but now the war is over we shall have a chance to cheer her a little."

"Did she see Roger Braund, do you think?"

"It is likely enough," I laughed; "he is a fair size, and sits up well in the saddle," a harmless pleasantry which, to judge by his peevish exclamation, Felix did not appreciate.