For The Admiral Part 49

"Yes," he answered bitterly, "when it is too late! We have all been blind fools, Edmond, from Navarre downwards. Ah, they are coming out--horse and foot."

It was too dark for us to distinguish them closely, but we could make out a group of officers riding a little ahead, a number of troopers, and two or three score foot-soldiers. They proceeded at a walking pace, making scarcely any sound.

"Let us follow," whispered Felix, and he was in such a restless state that, although unwilling to leave without having met L'Estang, I offered no objection.

Silently, and keeping well in the shadow of the houses, we stole after them, creeping like unquiet spirits through the streets of the sleeping city. At first we imagined they were going to the _Hotel de Guise_, and it was only on entering the Rue des Fosses de St. Germain that the dreadful truth flashed across our minds.

"They are going to murder the Admiral!" whispered my comrade with a groan. "Edmond, can we do nothing? Is there no way of warning La Bonne?"

"I fear not, we cannot get past the troops."

Even had that been possible it would have proved of but little service.

The leaders quickened their pace; the whole body swept round the corner; they were in front of the building; only by the roof could any one escape; and the Admiral, alas! could not walk even across his chamber.

The blood ran cold in my veins; it seemed as if my heart had ceased to beat. Death was calling for my beloved chief, and I was powerless to keep the grisly visitor at bay. I felt Felix fumbling at his sword, and, gripping him firmly by the wrist, whispered, "Keep still! What can you do?"

"Die with him!" he answered fiercely.

"Nonsense!" I said coldly, for I had no wish to see him butchered uselessly before my eyes, "you cannot do even that! You will be slain before you have moved three yards. And I will not let you throw your life away. Live, my friend, live to avenge him!"

"Ah," he whispered, "that is well said, Edmond. Take your hand off me. I am calm enough now. Ah, they are knocking at the gate. Listen! 'In the king's name!' That is Guise's voice. Will they open, think you, Edmond?"

I had dragged him into a doorway, so that the troopers might not see us, but by this time there was little danger of detection; the noise had aroused the neighbourhood, and many citizens were already in the street.

"Yes," I said, "they will think it is a messenger from Charles. See!"

for the dawn was breaking now, "there is Guise!"

"And Angouleme! And Cosseins! He has come to defend the Admiral! Let us go nearer, Edmond; they will not bother about us!"

Leaving the shelter of the doorway we mingled with the crowd, pressing close upon the heels of the troops. For several minutes we waited in breathless suspense; then the gate was opened; there was a wild rush; a cry of warning, stifled suddenly, rang out, and the troopers surged into the courtyard.

"That was La Bonne's voice," I said with a shudder, "he has learned the value of a king's promise."

Drawing our mantles up to our faces, we ran with the rest to the courtyard. Already the house was filled with soldiers, and several shrieks of agony told us that they were killing even the poor servants.

We heard sterner shouts also, and hoped in our hearts that Carnaton, Yolet, and the few Switzers were making Guise's butchers pay dearly for their cruel treachery.

Guise and Angouleme had not entered the house; they were standing in the courtyard, beneath the window of the Admiral's room, awaiting the completion of the brutal work. We heard the crashing of timber, the cries of the Switzers, and then the tramp of feet up the stairway.

Suddenly the sound ceased, and Felix, turning to me, whispered, "They have broken into his room!"

An awful silence fell upon us in the courtyard as we stood there waiting for the end of the ghastly tragedy.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Day of the Ma.s.sacre

I always think of this incident in my life with a certain amount of shame; yet even now I cannot see in what I failed. My comrade and I would have spent our lives freely in the Admiral's defence, but what could we do? To fight our way through that mob of soldiers was impossible; we could not have taken two steps without being killed.

And yet--and yet--perhaps it would have been the n.o.bler part to have died with our chief! I remember the look on Roger Braund's face when he heard the story--an expression that plainly asked, "How comes it then that you are still alive?"

If we did indeed act the coward's part the blame must rest on my shoulders; but for me Felix would have flung himself at the troopers and died with the old battle-cry "For the Admiral!" on his lips. It was I who, regarding such sacrifice as sheer folly, kept him back, though my blood boiled and my heart ached at what was going forward.

Presently a man wearing a corslet and waving a sword dyed red with blood appeared at the window of the sick-room. "It is done, my lord!" cried he l.u.s.tily, "it is all over."

"Where is the body?" asked Guise brutally. "Monseigneur d'Angouleme will not believe unless he sees the body."

I was beside myself with grief and pa.s.sion; yet even at that awful moment I gripped Felix tightly, bidding him control himself. "We must live, and not die!" I whispered.

Behm, and Cosseins, and a trooper in the dark green and white uniform of Anjou's guard approached the window, half dragging, half carrying a lifeless body. Raising it up, they flung it, as if it were the carcase of a sheep, into the courtyard, Behm exclaiming, "There is your enemy; he can do little harm now!"

"Yes, it is he," said Guise, spurning the dead hero with his foot, "I know him well. We have made a good beginning, my men; let us finish the business. Forward, in the king's name!"

Our cry of agony was drowned by the shouting of the troopers, and the next moment we were swept with the rest of the crowd from the courtyard into the narrow street. Suddenly, as if it were a signal, the great bell of St. Germain l'Auxerrois began to toll; other bells in the neighbourhood clanged and clashed, and mingling with their sounds were the fierce cries of "Kill the Huguenots! Kill! Kill!"

Felix turned to me with a look of horror. "It is a planned ma.s.sacre!" he exclaimed, "our comrades will be murdered in their beds!"

We were borne along helplessly in the midst of the crowd. In all the world, I think, no one could have ever beheld a more fearful spectacle.

The men and women were mad with pa.s.sion; their faces were as the faces of fiends; already some of their weapons were wet with blood. Each had a white band bound round the arm, and most of them wore a white cross in their caps.

Guise and Angouleme rode off with their troopers to carry on the terrible work elsewhere, and they bade the citizens slay and spare not.

Crash went the doors of the houses where the Huguenots lived; shrieks of despair and cries of "Kill! Kill!" rose on the air; the glare of numerous torches lit up the hideous scene.

"Drag them out!"

"Death to the Huguenots!"

"Burn the houses!"

"Long live the Duke of Guise!"

"Throw them from the windows!"

"Kill the whole brood!"

Very soon the street was dotted with dead bodies. The unhappy people, roused from sleep by the yells of the mob, could offer but little resistance; they were slain in their beds, or escaped from the murderers only to be killed in the streets.

But every one did not die tamely. At one spot we saw about a dozen of our comrades, some only half dressed, standing shoulder to shoulder, with their backs to the wall and holding the mob at bay. At this sight Felix, wrapping his mantle round his left arm and drawing his sword, ran toward them, crying defiantly, "Coligny! Coligny! For the Admiral!"

It was a daring venture, and yet no more, dangerous than remaining in the crowd, where we must shortly have been discovered.

"Coligny! Coligny!" shouted the fighters by the wall, and the very sound of the name inspired them with fresh courage. One of the ruffians pushed at Felix with his pike, but he, with a vigorous stroke, clave him from the shoulder, and our comrades cheered again as the rascal fell.

"This way, Bellievre," they cried; "this way, Le Blanc! Where is the Admiral?"