Henry of Guise Volume I Part 13

He turned suddenly from the path, however, and plunged his horse down the banks into the neighbouring meadow, as soon as he saw the body of men at arms; but though the young Count judged it useless to pursue him, the faint light that was in the sky was quite sufficient to enable him to judge that he belonged to a part of the marauding band which had been defeated in the morning. He concluded, naturally and rightly, that he was one of those who had followed the party of his brother Gaspar, and had probably pursued it towards Jouarre. A moment or two after, the sound of coming horses again met his ear; and, ordering some of his men to advance, and cut off the way into the meadow, he halted the rest of the troop, and waited in listening expectation.

At the end of a few minutes, three more hors.e.m.e.n appeared, and dashed into the very midst of the ambush that the young Count had laid for them.

"Halt, and surrender!" he cried in a loud tone, ordering his men at the same time to close round them; and the reiters, for such indeed they were, finding escape impossible, yielded without resistance. From them Charles of Montsoreau found that his suspicions were true, and that they formed part of the band which had pursued his brother towards La Ferte. He could gain no further information, however, from the men he had taken, except that the Marquis had effected his retreat in safety, and that a large body of armed burghers, coming out from La Ferte, had forced the reiters to fly with all speed.

Having given the prisoners in charge to those who would not lose sight of them, Charles of Montsoreau resumed his march; and, as his band approached La Ferte, their trumpet sang cheerily out in the clear night, giving notice to the citizens of the arrival of a friendly party.

The streets were now full of horses and people, the red light of the torches flashing upon the eager and excited countenances of those who had taken part in the affray; and, by the glare, Charles of Montsoreau easily distinguished the chief inn, with a number of horses held around the door, and a group of fifteen or sixteen persons gathered together round one, in whom he at once recognised his brother.

Perhaps Charles of Montsoreau had not any cause to be more satisfied with that brother's conduct during the eventful day which had just pa.s.sed, than he had been with that which preceded his departure from Montsoreau. But fraternal affection was strong at his heart, and halting his men in the market-place, he rode up with the page and two or three others to gratulate his brother, and ask how he fared after the perils he had undergone. He was surprised, however, as he came near, to see a heavy cloud lowering on the Marquis's brow, and his eyes rolling with an expression both fierce and anxious.

"So, Charles of Montsoreau," he exclaimed in a loud harsh tone, even before his brother could dismount, "so you have come to render an account of your conduct this day, I trust, and to explain away the treachery which is but too evident."

The young Count heard him with surprise, as may be well supposed; but he saw that he was under the excitement of some strong pa.s.sion, and instantly dismounting from his horse, he walked up to his brother through the crowd, holding out his hand, and saying, "Gaspar, you are under some mistake. How do you fare? You shall explain to me what is the matter within."

But the Marquis put his hand angrily by, exclaiming, "I take no hand stained with such treachery, even though it be my brother's. I care not who sees or who hears. I suppose, sir, you have brought the Lady with you, whom you have contrived to rescue once more, by first leading her into danger, that you might then deliver her from it."

"I can hardly suppose you sane, Gaspar de Montsoreau," replied his brother at length. "What danger have I led you or any one else into?

though you say true, when you say that I have delivered you, even when you thought fit to give me no a.s.sistance. But I ask again, What danger have I led you into, or any one else? What is it that you mean?"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed his brother, turning away with a look of contempt, which was very hard to bear. "You had better bring the Lady into the house, sir, and let her take some repose; and if she be not altogether blinded, I will take care to explain to her how all this day's brilliant achievements have been brought about."

"In the name of G.o.d, Gaspar of Montsoreau!" exclaimed his brother, at length, "what is it that you mean? What Lady? Where is Mademoiselle de Clairvaut? What madness has seized upon you now?"

Gaspar of Montsoreau took a step forward, till he almost touched his brother, and demanded in a voice that was loud, but that trembled with pa.s.sion, "Did I not see your page, that very page who is holding your horse now--that very page, who was pointed out to me by one that knows him well, as your bought bondsman--did I not see him--can you deny it?--did I not see him with the reiters at the moment that they charged down the hill upon us? And then I saw him by your side five minutes after, when you came pretending to a.s.sist us."

"The man's mad, or drunk!" said the boy aloud; but Charles of Montsoreau turned upon him sharply, exclaiming, "Hush! Remember, sir, he is my brother!"

"I am sorry that he is, sir," replied the boy. "He might see me near the reiters, but he never saw me with them, for I had been watching them for half an hour, concealed behind a great ma.s.s of bushes, and not daring to stir for my very life, till I saw them begin to ride down the hill, when I came out and galloped as fast as I could to tell my n.o.ble Lord, and bring him up to attack them.--Out upon it!--Pretending to help any one, when there is scarcely a man in the troop unwounded!--Out upon it!--Pretending to attack the reiters, when he has well nigh cut them to pieces, and not left two men together of the whole band!"

The boy spoke loud and indignantly, and at the joyful news of the marauders being cut to pieces, a glad shout burst from the town's people, who had gathered round, listening with no small surprise to the dispute between the two brothers.

"For Heaven's sake, Gaspar," said Charles of Montsoreau, "govern your feelings for a few minutes. I am here on the service of the n.o.ble Duke of Guise, and set out from Logeres only three days ago. I had heard of the reiters by the way, and determined to fight them if I met them.

The first moment that I saw or had any communication with them--on my honour and on my soul!-was that when I ordered my men to level their lances, and charge them in the flank. You have nothing to do but either to look at the banks of the stream, where they lay by dozens, to speak to the prisoners I have brought in, or to take one glance into those litters and those carts that carry my own wounded, to show you that it was no feigned strife, as you have wildly fancied, that went on between us. And now believing this, and feeling that you have done me wrong, tell me where is Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, for your words alarm and agitate me concerning her? Where is she, Gaspar? I say where is she?"

"I know not," said the Marquis, turning sullenly away, "I know not, Charles. In the last charge of the reiters, which happened nearly at night-fall, they drove us beyond the carriage, and I have seen no more of her. The Abbe, however, was with her, and he has not come up either; two or three of the men, too, were there."

"Bring up the prisoners," exclaimed Charles of Montsoreau, with a degree of agony of mind that it is impossible to conceive. "These men can give us information, for we took them on the road just now.--Bring up those prisoners."

With their arms tied, and their heads uncovered, the three Germans, who had endeavoured, as was customary with many of their bands, to make themselves look as fierce and terrible as possible, by suffering their hair and beards to grow in confused and tangled ma.s.ses, were now brought before the young commander; and gazing sternly upon them, he said, "You are here not as fair and open enemies, but as plunderers and marauders, after the generals who brought you here have retreated from the land, and entered into a treaty with the King of this country. Your only way, then, of obtaining any portion of mercy is, by answering the questions I am going to ask you distinctly and truly; for if I catch the slightest wavering or falsehood in your replies, I will have you shot one by one within the next five minutes, as a just punishment for the crimes that you have committed."

His words seemed to make little or no impression upon men accustomed to the daily contemplation of death. They all seemed to understand him, however, though it was with difficulty that they answered him in his own language, mingling German with French, so as to render it nearly unintelligible.

"We will tell you the truth to be sure," replied one of the men. "What should we tell you a lie for? All that ought to be lied about you know already; so we can do no harm by telling you the truth, and may do our own throats harm by telling you a lie. Hundred thousand! Ask your questions, and you shall have truth."

It was in vain, however, that Charles of Montsoreau questioned the man sternly and strictly in regard to what had become of Marie de Clairvaut, and those who were with her. It was evident that he knew nothing. He admitted that they had driven the party of the Marquis beyond the carriage, and had pa.s.sed it themselves in the eagerness of pursuit; but the sudden appearance of the armed burghers of La Ferte had caused them, he said, to retreat in great haste, and in separate parties. He and those who were with him had not taken the same road by which they came, and had seen nothing of the carriage.

This information, though so scanty, afforded Charles of Montsoreau a hope. "If the road," he exclaimed eagerly, "on which these men were captured, is not the same on which the carriage was left, it may still be there, and Mademoiselle de Clairvaut safe."

But his brother shook his head with an air of sullen grief and despair. "No!" he said, "No, the carriage is not there! I have been out myself to seek it, and have pa.s.sed the spot. Not a trace of it was to be seen, and I only returned when I heard your trumpets, believing that you were bringing in your prize in triumph."

"You have learnt, Gaspar," said his brother, "I know not why or how, to do me sad injustice. However, it is the duty of both of us not to close an eye till we have discovered what has become of the young Lady whom you undertook to conduct in safety till she was under the protection of her relations."

"I see not how it is your duty, Charles," replied his brother, sharply. "I, as you say, undertook to conduct her, and therefore it is my duty; but you, it seems to me, have nothing to do with it."

"It is my duty, Gaspar," replied his brother, "as a gentleman, and as a man of honour; and it is also my duty as an attached friend of the Duke of Guise; so that I shall seek for her this very instant. Let us both to horse again; let us obtain guides who know the country well.

You take one circuit, I will take another; and as there is now no farther fear of any attack from the reiters, we can suffer the greater part of our men to repose, and meeting here in the morning, report to each other what we have done, and concert together what steps are farther to be taken.--And oh, Gaspar," he continued, "let us, I beseech you, let us act together in a brotherly spirit; do justice to my motives and intentions, for they have been all what is kind and brotherly towards yourself."

"Doubtless," said the Marquis of Montsoreau, with one of those bitter sneers, which the determination of persisting in wrong too often supplies to the uncandid and ungenerous: "doubtless your motives and intentions were good and brotherly, when the first thing that you did after learning from the Abbe de Boisguerin my feelings, wishes, and hopes, was instantly to seek the Duke of Guise for the purpose of prepossessing him in your favour, and against my suit."

"In this, as in all else, you do me wrong, Gaspar," replied his brother; "and so you will find it when you see the Duke: but I cannot pause to explain all this. We lose time, precious and invaluable.--Gondrin, call out ten of our freshest and best mounted men. Let surgeons be obtained immediately to dress the wounds of the hurt, and tell Alain and Mortier to provide for the comfort and refreshment of the rest, according to the orders I gave them as we came along. Take this German with us, as a sure guide to show us the spot where the carriage was last seen. If I might advise you, Gaspar, you will go round under Jouarre, and stretch out till you reach Montreuil. The carriage cannot have pa.s.sed the Marne except by this bridge, so that----"

"I shall follow my own plan, Charles of Montsoreau," said the Marquis sullenly; "I want not an instructor as well as a rival in my younger brother." And thus saying, he turned away to give his own orders to some of those who surrounded him.

In the mean time his brother remounted his horse in haste; and, followed by Gondrin, and the ten men who had been selected, he set out upon his search. That search, however, proved utterly vain. No tidings whatsoever of Marie de Clairvaut, or those who accompanied her, were to be obtained; the peasantry, in terror of the reiters, had kept all their cottages closed and defended as best they could; and, with few if any of them, Charles of Montsoreau could open a communication, as every door that they applied to was shut, and in general nothing but sullen silence was returned to his application for admittance or information. In the few instances where the sound of his voice, speaking in the French tongue, obtained for him any answer, the reply was still the same, that they had kept all closed, from fear of the reiters, and had neither seen nor heard of any one pa.s.sing since nightfall.

With horses and men wearied and exhausted by their fruitless search, and with his own brow aching, and his heart sad and anxious, Charles of Montsoreau returned towards daybreak to the town of La Ferte. His brother, he found, had arrived some time before him, and had retired to rest without waiting for his arrival. The young n.o.bleman argued from that fact, that though the Marquis had not absolutely brought back the carriage with him to La Ferte, he must have obtained some satisfactory intelligence concerning it; and, unbuckling his arms, without, however, casting off the dress he wore beneath, he cast himself down to rest in the apartment which had been prepared for him.

Though much fatigued, however, and with a mind and body both exhausted by all the events and anxieties of the day, sleep refused to visit his eyelids. His busy thoughts turned to every painful theme that memory could supply from the past, or despondency call up out of the future; and finding that it was in vain to seek repose at that moment, he approached the deep cas.e.m.e.nt, threw open the window, and gazed out into the market-square, which lay directly beneath his apartments.

The morning was advancing brightly; the spring sunshine sparkling down the princ.i.p.al street, through an opening in which the Marne was seen flowing gaily on, with the open country rising up behind. The little market-cross was surrounded by the carts and litters in which he had brought in the wounded men, and some of the early townsmen were already seen walking hither and thither, while peasants and country-women in gay dresses came in one by one, now driving a horse or an a.s.s loaded with the produce of their farms, now bearing the whole of their little store in a basket on their shoulders or their arm. Most of them paused to consider and to comment upon the array of vehicles round the cross, talking in a low voice, as if fearful of breaking the stillness of the morning hour. The scene was calm, and quiet, and soothing; and feeling tranquilised after gazing at it for some minutes, the young Count again turned to his couch, and wooed the blessing of slumber not now in vain. He slept profoundly, and might have gone on for many hours, had he not been awakened about nine o'clock by the page Ignati pulling him by the arm.

"What is the matter, Ignati?" he cried, starting up. "You seem in haste and agitated."

"Your brother is on horseback, and setting out," cried the boy; "and he has learned tidings of the Lady, which will fit ill with your wishes or those of the Duke."

"What tidings, Ignati?" exclaimed the young Count eagerly. "Quick boy, do not keep me in suspense."

"See your brother, and he will tell you," said the boy. "If he does not, I will. But, quick, or he will be away; run down at once, even as you are."

Charles of Montsoreau hastened towards the door, dressed as he was in the buff coat which he wore beneath his armour; and from the stairs heard sounds that hastened all his movements. There was the trampling of horses, and the noise of many tongues in the court-yard, but above all the voice of his brother, ordering his men as if for instant departure.

When he reached the foot of the staircase, which led into the great court of the inn, he found that those sounds had not deceived him.

Gaspar de Montsoreau was on horseback, with his men drawn up in line ready to depart; and a cart containing two or three wounded men, and all the baggage which had not fallen into the hands of the reiters, was in the act of issuing forth through the archway into the marketplace. There was an air of eager and somewhat scornful triumph on the face of the Marquis de Montsoreau; and, at the very moment of the young Count's appearance, he was turning to speak with a well-dressed cavalier by his side, whom his brother had never before beheld.

As soon as the eyes of the two brothers met, the Marquis exclaimed aloud, in a scoffing tone, addressing his new companion, "Ha, Monsieur de Colombel! By Heaven here comes my good young brother of Logeres!

We must put spurs to our horses and ride quick, for he has taken service, it seems, with the Duke of Guise--commands a band of stout men-at-arms, enough to overpower us here--and may think fit to arrest us on the spot, if he finds that we are not of the same party as himself. He is not one to be stopped by brotherly love or consideration, I can a.s.sure you."

"Nay!" replied the cavalier whom he addressed, speaking with a courtly but significant smile, "the Duke of Guise is King Henry's dear friend and faithful cousin, and professes every sort of reverence for the crown of France."

The whole of this was spoken, as Charles of Montsoreau advanced towards them, with an evident intention that he should hear it; but he took not the slightest notice, and walking up calmly to the side of his brother's horse, he said, "This is not kind of you, Gaspar, to quit the place thus early, without giving me an opportunity of explaining to you things which you have misinterpreted and taken amiss."

"As you said to me last night, Charles," replied his brother, "I have not time for long explanations now; every minute is precious and invaluable. You can write to me if you have any thing to explain."

"You will inform me at least then," said his brother, "whether you have obtained any news of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and where she is."

"I am in haste! I am in haste, good brother!" replied the Marquis, "and can only wait to tell you that she is in safe hands and well, which must be enough to satisfy you."

"Not quite," answered Charles of Montsoreau. "As I am now upon my way to meet the Duke of Guise, and shall most likely reach him before you do, it will be but courteous of you to send him some fuller information regarding a Lady so nearly connected with himself."