The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “And you were with my cousin Conde, and the Admiral, in the battle of Saint Denis. What luck you have had, Monsieur Fletcher. I hope the day will come when I, too, shall take a part in war, and be a great leader like the Admiral; but I would rather that it was against Spaniards, or others, than against Frenchmen.”

  The door opened, and the queen entered. Philip rose hastily, but she motioned him to be seated.

  “No ceremony, I beg of you, Master Philip. I am glad to find you here, with my son. I have spoken to some of my friends of your offer to go to Tonneins, but they think not well of it. It is a small place, and a stranger would be sure to be questioned; but it was agreed that, if you would ride through Agen, you might do us great service. Five leagues from Tonneins Fontarailles, the seneschal of Armagnac, will be waiting for me, in the morning, with a troop of horse and a regiment of infantry. If the governor of Agen has news of his coming, he may send out a force to attack him or, should he not feel strong enough for that, he may at least think that I am intending to join the seneschal; and in that case he may send out troops, to bar the roads leading thither from the river. As many will be passing through Agen, on their way to join D’Escars, the passage of a gentleman and two men-at-arms will excite no attention; and if you put up for a short time at an inn, you may be able to gather whether there has been any movement of the troops, or whether there is any talk of the departure of any, this evening.

  “Should all be quiet, you can join me on the road; or ride direct to the village of Villeneuve d’Agenois, where the seneschal will arrive, some time tonight. If you should hear of any movements of troops, ride down on the other side of the river till within two miles of Tonneins; then, if you place your men at intervals of three or four hundred yards apart, you will be sure to see us cross, and can give us warning of danger, and such indications as you may gather as to the points where the troops are likely to be posted. We shall cross about midnight.”

  “I will gladly undertake the mission,” Philip said. “I will go out and procure some horses, at once.”

  “That is unnecessary,” the queen said. “We have brought several spare horses with us, and I have already ordered four to be saddled for you. You have no armour, I see.”

  “I would rather ride without it, your majesty, especially on such a mission as the present. Besides, if in full armour I might well be accosted, and asked to whose party I belong; while riding in as I am, unarmed, save for my sword, I should have the air of a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who had merely ridden in on business, or to learn the latest news.”

  The queen smiled approvingly.

  “You see, Henri, this gentleman, although about to undertake a dangerous business, does not proceed rashly or hastily, but thinks coolly as to the most prudent course to pursue.

  “You will understand, Monsieur Fletcher, that several of the gentlemen with me have volunteered for this duty, and that we have accepted your offer solely because they could scarcely enter Agen without meeting some who know them; while you, being a stranger, do not run this risk.”

  “Moreover, madam, I have another advantage. Were any of them questioned, and asked directly, ‘Are you a Huguenot?’ they could not but answer yes; whereas, were that question put to me I could reply ‘no,’ seeing that I am an English Protestant, and in no way, save in my sympathies, a Huguenot.”

  “That is an advantage, certainly; but it may be the question will be put, ‘Are you a Catholic?’”

  “In that case, your majesty, I could only reply ‘no;’ but methinks the other question is the most likely one.”

  “I wish I were going to ride with Monsieur Fletcher, mother.”

  “That is impossible, Henri; for scarce a Gascon gentleman but has been down, at one time or other, to Bearn. Do not be anxious for adventures. They will come in time, my son, and plenty of them. Would that you could pass your life without one; but in these troubled times, and with France divided against itself, that is too much to hope.

  “Should you by any chance, Monsieur Fletcher, fail to rejoin us at Villeneuve d’Agenois, you may overtake us farther on. But run no risk to do so. You know whither we are bound, and I trust that, when we arrive there, we may find you before us. I myself will retain the ring that you brought me, and will return it to the Admiral; but wear this, in remembrance of one in whose service you risked your life,” and she handed him a diamond ring, which he knew enough of gems to be aware was of considerable value.

  “And take this dagger,” the prince said, taking a small and beautifully tempered weapon from his belt. “It is but a bodkin, but it is of famous steel. It was sent me by Philip of Spain, at a time when he was trying to cajole my mother, and is of the best workmanship of Toledo.”

  Philip expressed his thanks for the gifts in suitable words; and then, taking leave of the queen and prince, went down to the courtyard. Here he found Pierre and the two men-at-arms, standing at the head of three powerful horses; while one of the queen’s retainers held a very handsome animal in readiness for himself.

  “Her majesty begs you to accept these horses, sir, as a slight token of her goodwill.”

  In five minutes, the party had issued from Nerac; Pierre, as usual, keeping close behind Philip, and the two men-at-arms riding a few lengths behind.

  “This is truly a change for the better, Monsieur Philip,” Pierre said. “We entered Nerac as tillers of the soil, we ride out in knightly fashion.”

  “Yes, Pierre, it is good to be on the back of a fine horse again; and this one I am riding is worthy of a place beside Victor and Robin.”

  “Yes, he is as good as either of them, sir. I am not sure that he is not better. We, too, are well content with the queen of Navarre’s generosity; for her steward gave us, before we started, each a purse of twenty crowns, which has been a wonderful salve to our sore feet. I trust there will be no more occasion to use them, for a time.”

  “I hope not. It was a long journey, but it was fortunate that we pushed on as we did; for had we been twelve hours later, we should not have found the queen at Nerac.”

  “And why does not your honour stay to ride with her?” Pierre asked.

  “I hope to join her again, tonight. We are going through Agen, where I hope to gather such news, of the movements of the Catholic troops, as may be of use to her.”

  Agen was about fifteen miles distance from Nerac, and as there was no occasion for haste, and Philip did not wish the horses to have the appearance of being ridden fast, they took three hours in traversing the distance.

  When they neared the town, he said to Pierre:

  “I shall not take you with me. If there should be trouble—though I do not see how this can well come about—four men could do no more than one. Therefore, Pierre, do you follow me no nearer than is sufficient to keep me in sight. The other two will follow you at an equal distance, together or separately.

  “Should any accident befall me, you are on no account to ride up, or to meddle in the business. I have told you what my instructions are, and it will be your duty to carry them out, if I am taken. You will put up your horse and, mingling with the soldiers and townspeople, find out if there is any movement in the wind, or whether any troops have already gone forward. Jacques and Roger will do the same, and you will meet and exchange news. If you find that anything has been done, or is going to be done, towards putting more guards on the river, or despatching a force that might interfere with the passage of the queen from Tonneins to Villeneuve d’Agenois, Roger and Jacques will ride to the point where I told you the crossing is to be made, and will warn the queen of the danger. I leave you free to ride with them, or to stay in the town till you learn what has happened to me. If you should find that there is no movement of troops, you and the others will be free either to ride to Pontier, or to make your way back to Cognac; and to join my cousin and give him news of what has happened to me. If I am only held as a prisoner, the Admiral will doubtless exchange a Catholic gentleman for me. He is sure to take many prisoners at t
he capture of the towns.”

  He then called the two men-at-arms up, and repeated the instructions relating to them.

  “But may we not strike in, should you get into trouble, master? Roger and I would far rather share whatever may befall you.”

  “No, Jacques, it would be worse in every way. Force could be of no avail, and it would lessen my chance of escape, were you beside me. Single handed I might get through, and trust to the speed of my horse. If taken, I might plan some mode of escape. In either case it would hamper me, were you there. Above all it is important that my mission should be fulfilled, therefore my commands on that head are strict. I do not apprehend trouble in any way; but if it should occur, you will at once turn your horses down the first street you come to, so that you may in no way be connected with me. Pierre will, of course, turn first. You will follow him, see where he stables his horse, then go on to some other cabaret and, having put up your horses, go back to the place where he has stopped, wait till he joins you outside, then arrange for the hour at which you are to meet again, and then go off in different directions to gather the news of which we are in search.

  “Take no further thought about me, at all. Give your whole minds to the safety of the queen. Upon that depends greatly the issue of this war. Were she and her son to fall into the hands of the Catholics, it would be a fatal blow to the cause.”

  So saying, he rode on again at the head of the party. When within a quarter of a mile of the town, he again called Pierre up to him.

  “Pierre, do you take this ring and dagger. Should I be taken, I shall assuredly be searched to see whether I am the bearer of despatches. I should grieve to lose these gifts, as much as I should to fall into the hands of the Catholics. Keep them for me, until you learn that there is no chance of my ever returning to claim them; and then give them to my cousin, and beg him in my name to return the ring to the Queen of Navarre, and the dagger to the young prince.”

  “I like not all these provisions,” Pierre said to himself. “Hitherto the master has never, since I first knew him, given any commands to me, as to what was to be done in case he were captured or killed. It seems to me that the danger here is as nothing to that he has often run before, and yet he must have some sort of foreboding of evil. If I were not a Huguenot, I would vow a score of pounds of candles, to be burnt at the shrine of the Holy Virgin, if the master gets safe out of yonder town.”

  Philip rode on across the bridge, and entered the gates without question. Up to this time, his followers had kept close behind him; but now, in accordance with his instructions, they dropped behind. He continued his way to the principal square, rode up to an inn, entered the courtyard, and gave his horse to the stableman.

  “Give it a feed,” he said, “and put it in the stable. I shall not require it until the afternoon.”

  Then he went into the public room, called for food and wine, and sat down. The tables were well nigh full, for there were many strangers in the town. After a first glance at the newcomer, none paid him any attention. Pierre and the two men had, in accordance with his instructions, passed the inn they had seen him enter, and put up at other places.

  There was a loud buzz of conversation, and Philip listened attentively to that between four gentlemen who had just sat down at the next table to him. Three of them had come in together, and the fourth joined them, just as Philip’s meal was brought to him.

  “Well, have you heard any news at the governor’s, Maignan?” one of them asked the last comer.

  “Bad news. Conde and the Admiral are not letting the grass grow under their feet. They have captured not only Niort, as we heard yesterday, but Parthenay.”

  “Peste! That is bad news, indeed. What a blunder it was to let them slip through their fingers, when they might have seized them with two or three hundred men, in Burgundy.”

  “It seems to me that they are making just the same mistake here,” another put in. “As Jeanne of Navarre is well nigh as dangerous as the Admiral himself, why don’t they seize her and her cub, and carry them to Paris?”

  “Because they hope that she will go willingly, of her own accord, Saint Amand. La Motte-Fenelon has been negotiating with her, for the last fortnight, on behalf of the court. It is clearly far better that she should go there of her own will, than that she should be taken there a prisoner. Her doing so would seem a desertion of the Huguenot cause, and would be a tremendous blow to them.

  “On the other hand, if she were taken there as a prisoner, it would drive many a Huguenot to take up arms who is now content to rest quiet. And moreover, the Protestant princes of Germany, and Elizabeth of England would protest; for whatever the court may say of the Admiral, they can hardly affirm that Jeanne of Navarre is thinking of making war against Charles for any other reason than the defence of her faith. Besides, she can do no harm at Nerac; and we can always lay hands on her, when we like. At any rate, there is no fear of her getting farther north. The rivers are too well guarded for that.”

  “I don’t know,” another said, “after the way in which Conde and the Admiral, though hampered with women and children, made their way across France, I should never be surprised at anything. You see, there is not a place where she has not friends. These pestilent Huguenots are everywhere. She will get warning of danger, and guides across the country—peasants who know every byroad through the fields, and every shallow in the rivers. It would be far better to make sure of her and her son, by seizing them at Nerac.”

  “Besides,” Saint Amand said, “there are reports of movements of Huguenots all over Guyenne; and I heard a rumour, last night, that the Seneschal of Armagnac has got a considerable gathering together. These Huguenots seem to spring out of the ground. Six weeks ago, no one believed that there was a corner of France where they could gather a hundred men together, and now they are everywhere in arms.”

  “I think,” Maignan said, “that you need not be uneasy about the Queen of Navarre. I am not at liberty to say what I have heard; but I fancy that, before many hours, she will be on her way to Paris, willingly or unwillingly. As for the seneschal, he and the others will be hunted down, as soon as this matter is settled. A day or two, sooner or later, will make no difference there and, until the queen is taken, the troops will have to stay in their present stations.

  “My only fear is that, seeing she can have no hope of making her way north, she will slip away back to Navarre again. Once there, she could not be taken without a deal of trouble. Whatever is to be done must be done promptly. Without direct orders from the court, no step can be taken in so important a matter. But the orders may arrive any hour, and I think you will see that there will be no loss of time in executing them.”

  “And Nerac could not stand a long siege, even if it were strongly garrisoned; and the handful of men she has got with her could not defend the walls for an hour. I hope she may not take the alarm too soon; for as you say, once back in Navarre it would be difficult, indeed, to take her. It is no joke hunting a bear among the mountains; and as her people are devoted to her, she could play hide and seek among the valleys and hills for weeks—ay, or months—before she could be laid hold of.

  “It is well for our cause, Maignan, that she is not a man. She would be as formidable a foe as the Admiral himself. Huguenot as she is, one can’t help respecting her. Her husband was a poor creature, beside her. He was ready to swallow any bait offered him; while, even if it would seat her son on the throne of France, she would not stir a hand’s breadth from what she thinks right.”

  Philip finished his meal, and then went out into the square. The news was satisfactory. No order had yet arrived for the seizure of the queen; and though one was evidently looked for, to arrive in the course of a few hours, it would then be too late to take any steps until nightfall, at the earliest; and by nine o’clock the queen would have left Nerac.

  No movement was intended at present against the seneschal, nor did the idea that the queen might attempt to join him seem to be entertained. It was possible, ho
wever, that such a suspicion might have occurred to the governor, and that some troops might secretly be sent off, later. He must try to learn something more.

  Confident that he could not be suspected of being ought but what he appeared, a Catholic gentleman—for his garments were of much brighter hue than those affected by the Huguenots—he strolled quietly along, pausing and looking into shops when he happened to pass near groups of soldiers or gentlemen talking together. So he spent two or three hours. No word had reached his ear indicating that any of the speakers were anticipating a sudden call to horse.

  He saw that Pierre was following him, keeping at some distance away, and pausing whenever he paused. He saw no signs of the other two men, and doubted not that they were, as he had ordered, spending their time in wine shops frequented by the soldiers, and listening to their talk.

  Feeling convinced that no orders had been given for the assembly of any body of troops, he sat down for a time at a small table in front of one of the principal wine shops, and called for a bottle of the best wine; thinking that the fact that he was alone would be less noticeable, so, than if he continued to walk the streets. Presently a party of four or five gentlemen sat down at a table a short distance off. He did not particularly notice them at first; but presently, glancing that way, saw one of them looking hard at him, and a thrill of dismay ran through him, as he recognized the gentleman addressed as Raoul, the leader of the party that had stopped him near Bazas. He had, however, presence of mind enough to look indifferently at him, and then to continue sipping his wine.

  The possibility that this gentleman, with his troop, should have come to Agen had never entered his mind; and though the encounter was a most unfortunate one, he trusted that the complete change in his appearance would be sufficient to prevent recognition; although it was evident, by the gaze fixed on him, that the gentleman had an idea that his face was familiar. To move now would heighten suspicion, if any existed; and he therefore sat quiet, watching the people who passed in front of him, and revolving in his mind the best course to be taken, should Raoul address him. The latter had just spoken to his cousin, who was sitting next to him.