55. The Scotchman.
And now our readers must leave the Standard to sail peaceably, nottoward London, where D'Artagnan and Porthos believed they were going,but to Durham, whither Mordaunt had been ordered to repair by the letterhe had received during his sojourn at Boulogne, and accompany us to theroyalist camp, on this side of the Tyne, near Newcastle.
There, placed between two rivers on the borders of Scotland, but stillon English soil, the tents of a little army extended. It was midnight.Some Highlanders were listlessly keeping watch. The moon, which waspartially obscured by heavy clouds, now and then lit up the muskets ofthe sentinels, or silvered the walls, the roofs, and the spires of thetown that Charles I. had just surrendered to the parliamentary troops,whilst Oxford and Newark still held out for him in the hopes of comingto some arrangement.
At one of the extremities of the camp, near an immense tent, in whichthe Scottish officers were holding a kind of council, presided over byLord Leven, their commander, a man attired as a cavalier lay sleeping onthe turf, his right hand extended over his sword.
About fifty paces off, another man, also appareled as a cavalier, wastalking to a Scotch sentinel, and, though a foreigner, he seemed tounderstand without much difficulty the answers given in the broadPerthshire dialect.
As the town clock of Newcastle struck one the sleeper awoke, and withall the gestures of a man rousing himself out of deep sleep he lookedattentively about him; perceiving that he was alone he rose and making alittle circuit passed close to the cavalier who was speaking to thesentinel. The former had no doubt finished his questions, for a momentlater he said good-night and carelessly followed the same path taken bythe first cavalier.
In the shadow of a tent the former was awaiting him.
"Well, my dear friend?" said he, in as pure French as has ever beenuttered between Rouen and Tours.
"Well, my friend, there is not a moment to lose; we must let the kingknow immediately."
"Why, what is the matter?"
"It would take too long to tell you, besides, you will hear it alldirectly and the least word dropped here might ruin all. We must go andfind Lord Winter."
They both set off to the other end of the camp, but as it did not covermore than a surface of five hundred feet they quickly arrived at thetent they were looking for.
"Tony, is your master sleeping?" said one of the two cavaliers to aservant who was lying in the outer compartment, which served as a kindof ante-room.
"No, monsieur le comte," answered the servant, "I think not; or at leasthe has not long been so, for he was pacing up and down for more than twohours after he left the king, and the sound of his footsteps has onlyceased during the last ten minutes. However, you may look and see,"added the lackey, raising the curtained entrance of the tent.
Lord Winter was seated near an aperture, arranged as a window to let inthe night air, his eyes mechanically following the course of the moon,intermittently veiled, as we before observed, by heavy clouds. The twofriends approached Winter, who, with his head on his hands, was gazingat the heavens; he did not hear them enter and remained in the sameattitude till he felt a hand upon his shoulder.
He turned around, recognized Athos and Aramis and held out his hand tothem.
"Have you observed," said he to them, "what a blood-red color the moonhas to-night?"
"No," replied Athos; "I thought it looked much the same as usual."
"Look, again, chevalier," returned Lord Winter.
"I must own," said Aramis, "I am like the Comte de la Fere--I can seenothing remarkable about it."
"My lord," said Athos, "in a position so precarious as ours we mustexamine the earth and not the heavens. Have you studied our Scotchtroops and have you confidence in them?"
"The Scotch?" inquired Winter. "What Scotch?"
"Ours, egad!" exclaimed Athos. "Those in whom the king hasconfided--Lord Leven's Highlanders."
"No," said Winter, then he paused; "but tell me, can you not perceivethe russet tint which marks the heavens?"
"Not the least in the world," said Aramis and Athos at once.
"Tell me," continued Winter, always possessed by the same idea, "isthere not a tradition in France that Henry IV., the evening before theday he was assassinated, when he was playing at chess with M. deBassompiere, saw clots of blood upon the chessboard?"
"Yes," said Athos, "and the marechal has often told me so himself."
"Then it was so," murmured Winter, "and the next day Henry IV. waskilled."
"But what has this vision of Henry IV. to do with you, my lord?"inquired Aramis.
"Nothing; and indeed I am mad to trouble you with such things, when yourcoming to my tent at such an hour announces that you are the bearers ofimportant news."
"Yes, my lord," said Athos, "I wish to speak to the king."
"To the king! but the king is asleep."
"I have something important to reveal to him."
"Can it not be put off till to-morrow?"
"He must know it this moment, and perhaps it is already too late."
"Come, then," said Lord Winter.
Lord Winter's tent was pitched by the side of the royal marquee, a kindof corridor communicating between the two. This corridor was guarded,not by a sentinel, but by a confidential servant, through whom, in caseof urgency, Charles could communicate instantly with his faithfulsubject.
"These gentlemen are with me," said Winter.
The lackey bowed and let them pass. As he had said, on a camp bed,dressed in his black doublet, booted, unbelted, with his felt hat besidehim, lay the king, overcome by sleep and fatigue. They advanced, andAthos, who was the first to enter, gazed a moment in silence on thatpale and noble face, framed in its long and now untidy, matted hair, theblue veins showing through the transparent temples, his eyes seeminglyswollen by tears.
Athos sighed deeply; the sigh woke the king, so lightly did he sleep.
He opened his eyes.
"Ah!" said he, raising himself on his elbow, "is it you, Comte de laFere?"
"Yes, sire," replied Athos.
"You watch while I sleep and you have come to bring me some news?"
"Alas, sire," answered Athos, "your majesty has guessed aright."
"It is bad news?"
"Yes, sire."
"Never mind; the messenger is welcome. You never come to me withoutconferring pleasure. You whose devotion recognizes neither country normisfortune, you who are sent to me by Henrietta; whatever news youbring, speak out."
"Sire, Cromwell has arrived this night at Newcastle."
"Ah!" exclaimed the king, "to fight?"
"No, sire, but to buy your majesty."
"What did you say?"
"I said, sire, that four hundred thousand pounds are owing to theScottish army."
"For unpaid wages; yes, I know it. For the last year my faithfulHighlanders have fought for honor alone."
Athos smiled.
"Well, sir, though honor is a fine thing, they are tired of fighting forit, and to-night they have sold you for two hundred thousandpounds--that is to say, for half what is owing them."
"Impossible!" cried the king, "the Scotch sell their king for twohundred thousand pounds! And who is the Judas who has concluded thisinfamous bargain?"
"Lord Leven."
"Are you certain of it, sir?"
"I heard it with my own ears."
The king sighed deeply, as if his heart would break, and then buried hisface in his hands.
"Oh! the Scotch," he exclaimed, "the Scotch I called 'my faithful,' towhom I trusted myself when I could have fled to Oxford! the Scotch, mybrothers! But are you well assured, sir?"
"Lying behind the tent of Lord Leven, I raised it and saw all, heardall!"
"And when is this to be consummated?"
"To-day--this morning; so your majesty must perceive there is no time tolose!"
"To do what? since you say I am sold."
"To cross the Tyne, reach Scotland and rejoin Lord Montrose, who willnot
sell you."
"And what shall I do in Scotland? A war of partisans, unworthy of aking."
"The example of Robert Bruce will absolve you, sire."
"No, no! I have fought too long; they have sold me, they shall give meup, and the eternal shame of treble treason shall fall on their heads."
"Sire," said Athos, "perhaps a king should act thus, but not a husbandand a father. I have come in the name of your wife and daughter and ofthe children you have still in London, and I say to you, 'Live,sire,'--it is the will of Heaven."
The king raised himself, buckled on his belt, and passing hishandkerchief over his moist forehead, said:
"Well, what is to be done?"
"Sire, have you in the army one regiment on which you can implicitlyrely?"
"Winter," said the king, "do you believe in the fidelity of yours?"
"Sire, they are but men, and men are become both weak and wicked. I willnot answer for them. I would confide my life to them, but I shouldhesitate ere I trusted them with your majesty's."
"Well!" said Athos, "since you have not a regiment, we are three devotedmen. It is enough. Let your majesty mount on horseback and placeyourself in the midst of us; we will cross the Tyne, reach Scotland, andyou will be saved."
"Is this your counsel also, Winter?" inquired the king.
"Yes, sire."
"And yours, Monsieur d'Herblay?"
"Yes, sire."
"As you wish, then. Winter, give the necessary orders."
Winter then left the tent; in the meantime the king finished his toilet.The first rays of daybreak penetrated the aperture of the tent as Winterre-entered it.
"All is ready, sire," said he.
"For us, also?" inquired Athos.
"Grimaud and Blaisois are holding your horses, ready saddled."
"In that case," exclaimed Athos, "let us not lose an instant, but setoff."
"Come," added the king.
"Sire," said Aramis, "will not your majesty acquaint some of yourfriends of this?"
"Friends!" answered Charles, sadly, "I have but three--one of twentyyears, who has never forgotten me, and two of a week's standing, whom Ishall never forget. Come, gentlemen, come!"
The king quitted his tent and found his horse ready waiting for him. Itwas a chestnut that the king had ridden for three years and of which hewas very fond.
The horse neighed with pleasure at seeing him.
"Ah!" said the king, "I was unjust; here is a creature that loves me.You at least will be faithful to me, Arthur."
The horse, as if it understood these words, bent its red nostrils towardthe king's face, and parting his lips displayed all its teeth, as ifwith pleasure.
"Yes, yes," said the king, caressing it with his hand, "yes, my Arthur,thou art a fond and faithful creature."
After this little scene Charles threw himself into the saddle, andturning to Athos, Aramis and Winter, said:
"Now, gentlemen, I am at your service."
But Athos was standing with his eyes fixed on a black line whichbordered the banks of the Tyne and seemed to extend double the length ofthe camp.
"What is that line?" cried Athos, whose vision was still rather obscuredby the uncertain shades and demi-tints of daybreak. "What is that line?I did not observe it yesterday."
"It must be the fog rising from the river," said the king.
"Sire, it is something more opaque than the fog."
"Indeed!" said Winter, "it appears to me like a bar of red color."
"It is the enemy, who have made a sortie from Newcastle and aresurrounding us!" exclaimed Athos.
"The enemy!" cried the king.
"Yes, the enemy. It is too late. Stop a moment; does not that sunbeamyonder, just by the side of the town, glitter on the Ironsides?"
This was the name given the cuirassiers, whom Cromwell had made hisbody-guard.
"Ah!" said the king, "we shall soon see whether my Highlanders havebetrayed me or not."
"What are you going to do?" exclaimed Athos.
"To give them the order to charge, and run down these miserable rebels."
And the king, putting spurs to his horse, set off to the tent of LordLeven.
"Follow him," said Athos.
"Come!" exclaimed Aramis.
"Is the king wounded?" cried Lord Winter. "I see spots of blood on theground." And he set off to follow the two friends.
He was stopped by Athos.
"Go and call out your regiment," said he; "I can foresee that we shallhave need of it directly."
Winter turned his horse and the two friends rode on. It had taken buttwo minutes for the king to reach the tent of the Scottish commander; hedismounted and entered.
The general was there, surrounded by the more prominent chiefs.
"The king!" they exclaimed, as all rose in bewilderment.
Charles was indeed in the midst of them, his hat on his head, his browsbent, striking his boot with his riding whip.
"Yes, gentlemen, the king in person, the king who has come to ask forsome account of what has happened."
"What is the matter, sire?" exclaimed Lord Leven.
"It is this, sir," said the king, angrily, "that General Cromwell hasreached Newcastle; that you knew it and I was not informed of it; thatthe enemy have left the town and are now closing the passages of theTyne against us; that our sentinels have seen this movement and I havebeen left unacquainted with it; that, by an infamous treaty you havesold me for two hundred thousand pounds to Parliament. Of this treaty,at least, I have been warned. This is the matter, gentlemen; answer andexculpate yourselves, for I stand here to accuse you."
"Sire," said Lord Leven, with hesitation, "sire, your majesty has beendeceived by false reports."
"My own eyes have seen the enemy extend itself between myself andScotland; and I can almost say that with my own ears I have heard theclauses of the treaty debated."
The Scotch chieftains looked at each other in their turn with frowningbrows.
"Sire," murmured Lord Leven, crushed by shame, "sire, we are ready togive you every proof of our fidelity."
"I ask but one," said the king; "put the army in battle array and facethe enemy."
"That cannot be, sire," said the earl.
"How, cannot be? What hinders it?" exclaimed the king.
"Your majesty is well aware that there is a truce between us and theEnglish army."
"And if there is a truce the English army has broken it by quitting thetown, contrary to the agreement which kept it there. Now, I tell you,you must pass with me through this army across to Scotland, and if yourefuse you may choose betwixt two names, which the contempt of allhonest men will brand you with--you are either cowards or traitors!"
The eyes of the Scotch flashed fire; and, as often happens on suchoccasions, from shame they passed to effrontery and two heads of clansadvanced upon the king.
"Yes," said they, "we have promised to deliver Scotland and England fromhim who for the last five-and-twenty years has sucked the blood and goldof Scotland and England. We have promised and we will keep our promise.Charles Stuart, you are our prisoner."
And both extended their hands as if to seize the king, but before theycould touch him with the tips of their fingers, both had fallen, onedead, the other stunned.
Aramis had passed his sword through the body of the first and Athos hadknocked down the other with the butt end of his pistol.
Then, as Lord Leven and the other chieftains recoiled before thisunexpected rescue, which seemed to come from Heaven for the prince theyalready thought was their prisoner, Athos and Aramis dragged the kingfrom the perjured assembly into which he had so imprudently ventured,and throwing themselves on horseback all three returned at full gallopto the royal tent.
On their road they perceived Lord Winter marching at the head of hisregiment. The king motioned him to accompany them.
Vingt ans après. English Page 55