In Kings' Byways Part 20

Of course I told him nothing. Yet I was glad when the next day came, and with it an announcement that Henry would visit M. de Gourdon and lie that night at his house, four miles from Montauban, where the court then was. Only eight gentlemen were invited to be of the party, with as many ladies; the troop with a handful of servants riding out of the city about five o'clock, and no one the wiser. No one saw anything odd in the visit, nor in my being chosen to attend the King. But I knew; and I was not surprised when we stopped at M. de Gourdon's only to sup, and then getting to horse, rode through the night and the dusky oak woods, by walled farms and hamlets, and under rustling poplars--rode many leagues, and forded many streams. The night was hot, it was the month of June; and it thundered continually, but with no rain. At this point and that bands of men joined us, mysteriously, and in silence; until from the hill with its bracken and walnut trees, we saw the lights of Cahors below us, and the glimmer of the winding Lot, and heard the bells of the city tolling midnight.

By this time, every road adding to our numbers, we were a great company; and how we lay hidden through the early night in the walnut grove that looks down on the river all men know; but not the qualms and eagerness that by turns possessed me as I peered through the leaves at the distant lights, nor the prayer I said that I might not shame my race, nor how my heart beat when Henry, who was that day twenty-seven years old, gave the order to advance in the voice of one going to a ball. Two men with a petard--then a strange invention--led the way through the gloom, attended by ten picked soldiers. After them came fifty of the King's guards, and the King with two hundred foot; then the main body of a thousand. We had the long bridge with its three gates to pa.s.s; and beyond these obstacles, a city bitterly hostile, and occupied by a garrison far outnumbering us. Never, indeed, did men enter on a more forlorn or perilous enterprise.

I remember to this day how I felt as we advanced through the darkness, and how long it seemed while we waited, huddled and silent, at the head of the bridge, expecting the explosion of the petard, which had been fixed to the first gate. At length it burst, filling the heavens with flame; before the night closed down again on our pale faces, the leaders were through the breach and past that gate, and charging madly over the bridge, the leading companies all mingled together.

I had no fear now. If a friendly hand had not pulled me back, I should have run on to the petard which drove in the second gate. As it was, I pa.s.sed through the second obstacle side by side with the King--but went no farther. The garrison was awake now, and a withering fire from fifty arquebuses swept the narrow bridge; those who were not struck stumbled over the dying; the air was filled with groans and cries; a moment and the very bravest recoiled, and sought safety behind the second gate, where we stood in shelter.

The moment was critical, for now the whole city was aroused. Shouts of triumph rose above the exploding of the guns; in every tower bells jangled noisily, and on the summit of the last gateway on the bridge, which from every loophole and window poured on us a deadly hail of slugs, a beacon-fire blazed up, turning the black water below us to blood.

I have said that the moment was critical--for France and for us. For a few seconds all hung back. Then St. Martin sprang forward, and by his side Captain Robert, who had fixed the first petard. They darted along the bridge, but only to fall and lie groaning and helpless halfway over.

Henry made a movement as if to follow, but young M. de Rosny held him back by force, while half a dozen soldiers made the attempt. Of these four fell at once under the pitiless fire, and two crawled back wounded.

It seemed that a man must be more than mortal to pa.s.s that s.p.a.ce; and while one might count twenty no one moved.

Captain Robert lay scarcely fifteen paces from us, and by his side the hammer, spike, and petard he had carried. He and they were visible in the glow of ruddy light that poured down on the bridge. Suddenly, while I stood panting and irresolute, longing, yet not daring--since I saw older men hang back--suddenly a hand twitched my sleeve, and I turned to find at my elbow, his hair streaming back from his brow, Antoine! The lad's face and eyes flashed scorn at me. He waved his hand towards the bridge.

"Coward!" he cried; and he struck me lightly on the cheek with his hand.

"Coward! Now follow me, if you dare!"

And, before any one could stay him, he darted from the shelter of the gateway in which we stood; and raced on to the bridge. I heard a great shout on our side, and the roar of a volley; but dully only, for, enraged by the blow and the challenge, I followed him--I and a dozen others. Some fell, but he ran on, and I after him. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the petard and the hammer, I the spike. In a moment, as it seemed to me, we were at the farther gate attaching the engine to it. I held the spike, he hammered it; the smoke and the frowning archway, to some extent, protected us from the fire of those above.

I often think of those few seconds with the pride and the garrulousness of an old man. While they lasted we stood alone, separated from our friends by the whole length of the third span of the bridge. For a few seconds only indeed; then, with a yell of triumph, the remains of Henry's "forlorn" rushed forward, and though many fell, enough came on.

In a trice eager hands took the engine from us, and secured the fuse effectually and lit it, and bore us back--I was going to say, out of danger; but alas! as a deafening crash and a blaze of light proclaimed the way open and the last gate down, he who had done the deed, and opened the way, fell across me, shot from a loophole! As the rain of fragments from the gate fell hissing and splas.h.i.+ng in the stream that flowed below, and while the foot streamed over the bridge, and pressed through the breach, Antoine gave a little gasp, and died on my knee.

The rest all men know; how through five days and nights we fought the great street-fight of Cahors; how we took no rest, save against walls and doorways, or in the courts of houses we had won; how we ate and drank with hands smirched with blood, and then to it again; how we won the city house by house, and foot by foot, until at last the white flag waved from the great tower, and France awoke with a start to know that in the young prince of pleasure, whom she had deemed a trifler, was born the shrewdest statesman and the boldest soldier of all her royal line.

And Antoine? When I went, after many hours, to seek him, the horse had crossed the bridge, and even his body was gone. How he had traced us, how managed to come to the front so opportunely, whether without him the star of Navarre would have risen so gloriously on that night of '80, never to be forgotten, I cannot say. But when I hear men talk of Crillon and courage--above all, when I hear them talk of the fops and ribboned popinjays of to-day, with their loose breeches and their bell-mouthed boots, I think of my comrade and rival who won Cahors for the King. And I smile.

PART II

THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN

That which I am about to insert in this place may seem to some to be trifling, and on a parity with the diverting story of M. Boisrose, which I have set down in an earlier part of my memoirs. But among the calumnies of those who have not since the death of the late King ceased to attack me, the statement that I kept from his Majesty things which should have reached his ears, has had a prominent place; though a thousand times refuted by my friends. I take in hand, therefore, to show by this episode, curious in itself, the full knowledge of affairs which the King had, and to prove that in many matters, which were never permitted to become public, he took a personal share, worthy as much of Haroun as of Alexander.

It was my custom, before I entered upon those negotiations with the Prince of Conde which terminated in the recovery of the estate of Villebon, where I now reside, to spend a part of the autumn and winter at Rosny. On these occasions, I was in the habit of moving from Paris with a considerable train, including not only my Swiss, pages, and grooms, but the maids of honour and waiting-women of the d.u.c.h.ess. We halted to take dinner at Poissy, and generally contrived to reach Rosny towards nightfall, so as to sup by the light of flambeaux, in a manner enjoyable enough, though devoid of that state which I have ever maintained, and enjoined upon my children, as at once the privilege and burden of rank.

At the time of which I speak, I had for my favourite charger the sorrel horse which the Duke of Mercoeur presented to me with a view to my good offices at the time of the King's entry into Paris; and which I honestly transferred to his Majesty in accordance with a principle laid down in another place. The King insisted on returning it to me, and for several years I rode it on these annual visits to Rosny. What was more remarkable was, that on each of these occasions it cast a shoe about the middle of the afternoon, and always when we were within a short league of the village of Aubergenville. Though I never had with me less than a half a score of led horses, I had such an affection for the sorrel that I preferred to wait until it was shod, rather than accommodate myself to a nag of less easy paces; and would allow my household to precede me, while I stayed behind with at most a guard or two, my valet, and a page.

The forge at Aubergenville was kept by a smith of some skill, a cheerful fellow, whom I rewarded, in view rather of my position than his services, with a gold piece. His joy at receiving what was to him the income of three months was great, and never failed to reimburse me; in addition to which I took some pleasure in unbending, and learning from this simple peasant and loyal man, what the tax-payers were saying of me and my reforms--a duty I felt I owed to the King my master.

As a man of breeding, it would ill become me to set down the homely truths I thus learned. The conversations of the vulgar are little suited to a n.o.bleman's memoirs. But in this I distinguish between the Duke of Sully and the King's minister; and it is in the latter capacity that I relate what pa.s.sed on these diverting occasions. "Ho! Simon," I would say, encouraging the poor man as he came bowing before me. "How goes it, my friend?"

"Badly," he would answer, "very badly until your lords.h.i.+p came this way."

"And how was that, little man?"

"Ah, it is the roads!" he always replied, shaking his bald head as he began to set about his business. "The roads since your lords.h.i.+p became Surveyor-General, are so good, that not one horse in a hundred leaves its shoe in a slough! And then there are so few highwaymen, that not one robber's plates do I replace in a twelvemonth! That is where it is."

At this I was highly delighted. "Still, since I began to pa.s.s this way times have not been so bad with you, Simon," I would answer.

Thereto he had one invariable reply. "No, thanks to St. Genevieve and your Lords.h.i.+p, whom we call in this village the poor man's friend, I have a fowl in the pot."

This phrase so pleased me, that I repeated it to the king. It tickled his fancy also, and for many years it was a common remark of that good and great ruler, that he would fain live to see every peasant with a fowl in his pot.

"But why," I remember, I once asked this honest fellow--it was on the last occasion of the sorrel falling lame there--"do you thank St.

Genevieve?"

"She is my patron saint," he answered.

"Then you are a Parisian?"

"Your lords.h.i.+p is always right."

"But does her saints.h.i.+p do you any good?" I asked curiously.

"By your lords.h.i.+p's leave. My wife prays to her, and she loosens the nails in the sorrel's shoes."

"Then she pays off an old grudge," I answered. "There was a time when Paris liked me little. But hark you, Master Smith! I am not sure 'tis not an act of treason to conspire with Madame Genevieve against the comfort of the King's minister. What think you, you rascal? Can you pa.s.s the justice-elm without a s.h.i.+ver?"

This threw the simple fellow into great fear, which the sight of the livre of gold converted into joy. Leaving him still staring at his fortune, I rode away. But when we had gone some little distance, the aspect of his face, when I charged him with treason, or my own una.s.sisted discrimination, suggested a clue to the phenomenon.

"La Trape," I said to my valet--the same who was with me at Cahors--"what is the name of the innkeeper at Poissy, at whose house we are accustomed to dine?"

"Andrew, may it please your lords.h.i.+p."

"Ha! Ha! I thought so!" I exclaimed, smiting my thigh. "Simon and Andrew his brother! Answer, knave; and if you have permitted me to be robbed these many times, tremble for your ears! Is he not brother to the smith at Aubergenville who has just shod my horse?"

La Trape professed to be ignorant on the point. But a groom who had stayed with me, having sought my permission to speak, said it was so, adding that Master Andrew had risen in the world through dealings in hay, which he was wont to take into Paris and sell, and that he did not now acknowledge, or see anything of his brother, the smith.

On receiving this confirmation of my suspicion, my vanity as well as my love of justice led me to act with the prompt.i.tude which I have exhibited in greater emergencies. I rated La Trape for his carelessness in permitting this deception to be practised; and the main body of my attendants being now in sight, I ordered him to take two Swiss and arrest both brothers without delay. There remained three hours of daylight, and I judged that by hard riding they might reach Rosny with their prisoners before bedtime.

I spent some time, while still on the road, in considering what punishment I should inflict on the culprits, and finally laid aside the purpose I had at first conceived--of dealing severely with them--in favour of a plan that I thought might offer me some amus.e.m.e.nt. For the execution of this, I depended upon Maignan, my equerry, a man of lively imagination, and the same who had, of his own motion, arranged and carried out the triumphal procession in which I was borne to Rosny, after the battle of Ivry. Before I sat down to supper, I gave him his directions; and, as I had expected, news was brought to me, while I was at table, that the prisoners were without.

On this, I informed the d.u.c.h.ess and the company--for, as was usual, a number of my country neighbours had come to compliment me on my return--that there was sport of a rare kind on foot; and we adjourned, Maignan and four pages bearing lights before us, to that end of the terrace which abuts on the linden avenue. Here a score of grooms, holding aloft torches, had been arranged in a semicircle, so that they enclosed an impromptu theatre, which was as light as in the day. On a sloping bank at the end of the terrace, seats had been placed for those who had supped at my table, while the rest of the company found such places of vantage as they could, their number, indeed, amounting, with my household, to two hundred persons. In the centre of the open s.p.a.ce a small forge-fire had been kindled, the red glow of which added much to the strangeness of the scene; and on the anvil beside it were ranged a number of horses' and donkeys' shoes, with a full complement of tools used by smiths.

All being ready, I gave the word to bring in the prisoners; and, escorted by La Trape and six of my guards, they were marched into the arena. In their pale and terrified faces, and the shaking limbs which scarce supported them, I read both the consciousness of guilt and the apprehension of immediate punishment; it was plain that they expected nothing less. I was very willing to play with their fears, and for some time looked at them in silence, while all wondered with lively curiosity what would ensue. In the end, I addressed them gravely, telling the innkeeper that I knew well he had loosened each year a shoe of my horse, in order that his brother might profit by the job of replacing it; and then I proceeded to reprove the smith for the ingrat.i.tude which had led him to return my bounty by the conception of so knavish a trick.

Upon this they confessed their guilt, and flinging themselves upon their knees, with many tears, begged for mercy. After a decent interval I permitted myself to be moved.

"Your lives shall be spared," I p.r.o.nounced. "But punished you must be. I ordain that Simon the smith fit, nail, and properly secure a pair of iron shoes to Andrew's heels, and that then, Andrew, who by that time will have learned somewhat of the smith's art, do the same to Simon. So will you both be taught to avoid such tricks in the future."

It may well be imagined that a judgment so justly adapted to the offence charmed all save the culprits; and in a hundred ways the pleasure of those present was evinced: to such a degree indeed that Maignan had difficulty in restoring gravity to the a.s.semblage. This done, however, Master Andrew was taken in hand, and his wooden shoes removed. The tools of his trade were placed before Simon, but he cast glances so piteous, first at his brother's feet, and then at the shoes, as again gave rise to an amount of merriment that surpa.s.sed all, my pages in particular well-nigh forgetting my presence, and rolling about in a manner unpardonable at another time. However, I rebuked them, and was about to order the sentence to be carried into effect, when the remembrance of the many pleasant simplicities which the smith had uttered to me, acting upon a natural disposition to mercy which the most calumnious of my enemies have never questioned, induced me to give the prisoners a chance of escape. "Listen," I said, "Simon and Andrew. Your sentence has been p.r.o.nounced and will be executed, unless you can avail yourself of the condition I now offer. You shall have three minutes: if in that time either of you can make a good joke, he shall go free. If not--let a man attend to the bellows, La Trape!"