Vingt ans après. English

  56. The Avenger.

  They all four entered the tent; they had no plan ready--they must thinkof one.

  The king threw himself into an arm-chair. "I am lost," said he.

  "No, sire," replied Athos. "You are only betrayed."

  The king sighed deeply.

  "Betrayed! yes betrayed by the Scotch, amongst whom I was born, whom Ihave always loved better than the English. Oh, traitors that ye are!"

  "Sire," said Athos, "this is not a moment for recrimination, but a timeto show yourself a king and a gentleman. Up, sire! up! for you have hereat least three men who will not betray you. Ah! if we had been five!"murmured Athos, thinking of D'Artagnan and Porthos.

  "What do you say?" inquired Charles, rising.

  "I say, sire, that there is now but one way open. Lord Winter answersfor his regiment, or at least very nearly so--we will not split strawsabout words--let him place himself at the head of his men, we will placeourselves at the side of your majesty, and we will mow a swath throughCromwell's army and reach Scotland."

  "There is another method," said Aramis. "Let one of us put on the dressand mount the king's horse. Whilst they pursue him the king mightescape."

  "It is good advice," said Athos, "and if the king will do one of us thehonor we shall be truly grateful to him."

  "What do you think of this counsel, Winter?" asked the king, lookingwith admiration at these two men, whose chief idea seemed to be how theycould take on their shoulders all the dangers that assailed him.

  "I think the only chance of saving your majesty has just been proposedby Monsieur d'Herblay. I humbly entreat your majesty to choose quickly,for we have not an instant to lose."

  "But if I accept, it is death, or at least imprisonment, for him whotakes my place."

  "He will have had the glory of having saved his king," cried Winter.

  The king looked at his old friend with tears in his eyes; undid theOrder of the Saint Esprit which he wore, to honor the two Frenchmen whowere with him, and passed it around Winter's neck, who received on hisknees this striking proof of his sovereign's confidence and friendship.

  "It is right," said Athos; "he has served your majesty longer than wehave."

  The king overheard these words and turned around with tears in his eyes.

  "Wait a moment, sir," said he; "I have an order for each of you also."

  He turned to a closet where his own orders were locked up, and took outtwo ribbons of the Order of the Garter.

  "These cannot be for us," said Athos.

  "Why not, sir?" asked Charles.

  "Such are for royalty, and we are simple commoners."

  "Speak not of crowns. I shall not find amongst them such great hearts asyours. No, no, you do yourselves injustice; but I am here to do youjustice. On your knees, count."

  Athos knelt down and the king passed the ribbon down from left to rightas usual, raised his sword, and instead of pronouncing the customaryformula, "I make you a knight. Be brave, faithful and loyal," he said,"You are brave, faithful and loyal. I knight you, monsieur le comte."

  Then turning to Aramis, he said:

  "It is now your turn, monsieur le chevalier."

  The same ceremony recommenced, with the same words, whilst Winterunlaced his leather cuirass, that he might disguise himself like theking. Charles, having proceeded with Aramis as with Athos, embraced themboth.

  "Sire," said Winter, who in this trying emergency felt all his strengthand energy fire up, "we are ready."

  The king looked at the three gentlemen. "Then we must fly!" said he.

  "Flying through an army, sire," said Athos, "in all countries in theworld is called charging."

  "Then I shall die, sword in hand," said Charles. "Monsieur le comte,monsieur le chevalier, if ever I am king----"

  "Sire, you have already done us more honor than simple gentlemen couldever aspire to, therefore gratitude is on our side. But we must not losetime. We have already wasted too much."

  The king again shook hands with all three, exchanged hats with Winterand went out.

  Winter's regiment was ranged on some high ground above the camp. Theking, followed by the three friends, turned his steps that way. TheScotch camp seemed as if at last awakened; the soldiers had come out oftheir tents and taken up their station in battle array.

  "Do you see that?" said the king. "Perhaps they are penitent andpreparing to march."

  "If they are penitent," said Athos, "let them follow us."

  "Well!" said the king, "what shall we do?"

  "Let us examine the enemy's army."

  At the same instant the eyes of the little group were fixed on the sameline which at daybreak they had mistaken for fog and which the morningsun now plainly showed was an army in order of battle. The air was softand clear, as it generally is at that early hour of the morning. Theregiments, the standards, and even the colors of the horses and uniformswere now clearly distinct.

  On the summit of a rising ground, a little in advance of the enemy,appeared a short and heavy looking man; this man was surrounded byofficers. He turned a spyglass toward the little group amongst which theking stood.

  "Does this man know your majesty personally?" inquired Aramis.

  Charles smiled.

  "That man is Cromwell," said he.

  "Then draw down your hat, sire, that he may not discover thesubstitution."

  "Ah!" said Athos, "how much time we have lost."

  "Now," said the king, "give the word and let us start."

  "Will you not give it, sire?" asked Athos.

  "No; I make you my lieutenant-general," said the king.

  "Listen, then, Lord Winter. Proceed, sire, I beg. What we are going tosay does not concern your majesty."

  The king, smiling, turned a few steps back.

  "This is what I propose to do," said Athos. "We will divide ourregiments into two squadrons. You will put yourself at the head of thefirst. We and his majesty will lead the second. If no obstacle occurs wewill both charge together, force the enemy's line and throw ourselvesinto the Tyne, which we must cross, either by fording or swimming; if,on the contrary, any repulse should take place, you and your men mustfight to the last man, whilst we and the king proceed on our road. Oncearrived at the brink of the river, should we even find them three ranksdeep, as long as you and your regiment do your duty, we will look to therest."

  "To horse!" said Lord Winter.

  "To horse!" re-echoed Athos; "everything is arranged and decided."

  "Now, gentlemen," cried the king, "forward! and rally to the old cry ofFrance, 'Montjoy and St. Denis!' The war cry of England is too often inthe mouths of traitors."

  They mounted--the king on Winter's horse and Winter on that of the king;then Winter took his place at the head of the first squadron, and theking, with Athos on his right and Aramis on his left, at the head of thesecond.

  The Scotch army stood motionless and silent, seized with shame at sightof these preparations.

  Some of the chieftains left the ranks and broke their swords in two.

  "There," said the king, "that consoles me; they are not all traitors."

  At this moment Winter's voice was raised with the cry of "Forward!"

  The first squadron moved off; the second followed, and descended fromthe plateau. A regiment of cuirassiers, nearly equal as to numbers,issued from behind the hill and came full gallop toward it.

  The king pointed this out.

  "Sire," said Athos, "we foresaw this; and if Lord Winter's men but dotheir duty, we are saved, instead of lost."

  At this moment they heard above all the galloping and neighing of thehorses Winter's voice crying out:

  "Sword in hand!"

  At these words every sword was drawn, and glittered in the air likelightning.

  "Now, gentlemen," said the king in his turn, excited by this sight,"come, gentlemen, sword in hand!"

  But Aramis and Athos were the only ones to obey this command and theking's example.

  "We are b
etrayed," said the king in a low voice.

  "Wait a moment," said Athos, "perhaps they do not recognize yourmajesty's voice, and await the order of their captain."

  "Have they not heard that of their colonel? But look! look!" cried theking, drawing up his horse with a sudden jerk, which threw it on itshaunches, and seizing the bridle of Athos's horse.

  "Ah, cowards! traitors!" screamed Lord Winter, whose voice they heard,whilst his men, quitting their ranks, dispersed all over the plain.

  About fifteen men were ranged around him and awaited the charge ofCromwell's cuirassiers.

  "Let us go and die with them!" said the king.

  "Let us go," said Athos and Aramis.

  "All faithful hearts with me!" cried out Winter.

  This voice was heard by the two friends, who set off, full gallop.

  "No quarter!" cried a voice in French, answering to that of Winter,which made them tremble.

  As for Winter, at the sound of that voice he turned pale, and was, as itwere, petrified.

  It was the voice of a cavalier mounted on a magnificent black horse, whowas charging at the head of the English regiment, of which, in hisardor, he was ten steps in advance.

  "'Tis he!" murmured Winter, his eyes glazed and he allowed his sword tofall to his side.

  "The king! the king!" cried out several voices, deceived by the blueribbon and chestnut horse of Winter; "take him alive."

  "No! it is not the king!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Lord Winter, you arenot the king; you are my uncle."

  At the same moment Mordaunt, for it was he, leveled his pistol atWinter; it went off and the ball entered the heart of the old cavalier,who with one bound on his saddle fell back into the arms of Athos,murmuring: "He is avenged!"

  "Think of my mother!" shouted Mordaunt, as his horse plunged and dartedoff at full gallop.

  "Wretch!" exclaimed Aramis, raising his pistol as he passed by him; butthe powder flashed in the pan and it did not go off.

  At this moment the whole regiment came up and they fell upon the few menwho had held out, surrounding the two Frenchmen. Athos, after makingsure that Lord Winter was really dead, let fall the corpse and said:

  "Come, Aramis, now for the honor of France!" and the two Englishmen whowere nearest to them fell, mortally wounded.

  At the same moment a fearful "hurrah!" rent the air and thirty bladesglittered about their heads.

  Suddenly a man sprang out of the English ranks, fell upon Athos, twinedarms of steel around him, and tearing his sword from him, said in hisear:

  "Silence! yield--you yield to me, do you not?"

  A giant had seized also Aramis's two wrists, who struggled in vain torelease himself from this formidable grasp.

  "D'Art----" exclaimed Athos, whilst the Gascon covered his mouth withhis hand.

  "I am your prisoner," said Aramis, giving up his sword to Porthos.

  "Fire, fire!" cried Mordaunt, returning to the group surrounding the twofriends.

  "And wherefore fire?" said the colonel; "every one has yielded."

  "It is the son of Milady," said Athos to D'Artagnan.

  "I recognize him."

  "It is the monk," whispered Porthos to Aramis.

  "I know it."

  And now the ranks began to open. D'Artagnan held the bridle of Athos'shorse and Porthos that of Aramis. Both of them attempted to lead hisprisoner off the battle-field.

  This movement revealed the spot where Winter's body had fallen. Mordaunthad found it out and was gazing on his dead relative with an expressionof malignant hatred.

  Athos, though now cool and collected, put his hand to his belt, wherehis loaded pistols yet remained.

  "What are you about?" said D'Artagnan.

  "Let me kill him."

  "We are all four lost, if by the least gesture you discover that yourecognize him."

  Then turning to the young man he exclaimed:

  "A fine prize! a fine prize, friend Mordaunt; we have both myself andMonsieur du Vallon, taken two Knights of the Garter, nothing less."

  "But," said Mordaunt, looking at Athos and Aramis with bloodshot eyes,"these are Frenchmen, I imagine."

  "I'faith, I don't know. Are you French, sir?" said he to Athos.

  "I am," replied the latter, gravely.

  "Very well, my dear sir, you are the prisoner of a fellow countryman."

  "But the king--where is the king?" exclaimed Athos, anxiously.

  D'Artagnan vigorously seized his prisoner's hand, saying:

  "Eh! the king? We have secured him."

  "Yes," said Aramis, "through an infamous act of treason."

  Porthos pressed his friend's hand and said to him:

  "Yes, sir, all is fair in war, stratagem as well as force; look yonder!"

  At this instant the squadron, that ought to have protected Charles'sretreat, was advancing to meet the English regiments. The king, who wasentirely surrounded, walked alone in a great empty space. He appearedcalm, but it was evidently not without a mighty effort. Drops ofperspiration trickled down his face, and from time to time he put ahandkerchief to his mouth to wipe away the blood that rilled from it.

  "Behold Nebuchadnezzar!" exclaimed an old Puritan soldier, whose eyesflashed at the sight of the man they called the tyrant.

  "Do you call him Nebuchadnezzar?" said Mordaunt, with a terrible smile;"no, it is Charles the First, the king, the good King Charles, whodespoils his subjects to enrich himself."

  Charles glanced a moment at the insolent creature who uttered this, butdid not recognize him. Nevertheless, the calm religious dignity of hiscountenance abashed Mordaunt.

  "Bon jour, messieurs!" said the king to the two gentlemen who were heldby D'Artagnan and Porthos. "The day has been unfortunate, but it is notyour fault, thank God! But where is my old friend Winter?"

  The two gentlemen turned away their heads in silence.

  "In Strafford's company," said Mordaunt, tauntingly.

  Charles shuddered. The demon had known how to wound him. The remembranceof Strafford was a source of lasting remorse to him, the shadow thathaunted him by day and night. The king looked around him. He saw acorpse at his feet. It was Winter's. He uttered not a word, nor shed atear, but a deadly pallor spread over his face; he knelt down on theground, raised Winter's head, and unfastening the Order of the SaintEsprit, placed it on his own breast.

  "Lord Winter is killed, then?" inquired D'Artagnan, fixing his eyes onthe corpse.

  "Yes," said Athos, "by his own nephew."

  "Come, he was the first of us to go; peace be to him! he was an honestman," said D'Artagnan.

  "Charles Stuart," said the colonel of the English regiment, approachingthe king, who had just put on the insignia of royalty, "do you yieldyourself a prisoner?"

  "Colonel Tomlison," said Charles, "kings cannot yield; the man alonesubmits to force."

  "Your sword."

  The king drew his sword and broke it on his knee.

  At this moment a horse without a rider, covered with foam, his nostrilsextended and eyes all fire, galloped up, and recognizing his master,stopped and neighed with pleasure; it was Arthur.

  The king smiled, patted it with his hand and jumped lightly into thesaddle.

  "Now, gentlemen," said he, "conduct me where you will."

  Turning back again, he said, "I thought I saw Winter move; if he stilllives, by all you hold most sacred, do not abandon him."

  "Never fear, King Charles," said Mordaunt, "the bullet pierced hisheart."

  "Do not breathe a word nor make the least sign to me or Porthos," saidD'Artagnan to Athos and Aramis, "that you recognize this man, for Miladyis not dead; her soul lives in the body of this demon."

  The detachment now moved toward the town with the royal captive; but onthe road an aide-de-camp, from Cromwell, sent orders that ColonelTomlison should conduct him to Holdenby Castle.

  At the same time couriers started in every direction over England andEurope to announce that Charles Stuart was the prisoner of OliverCromwell.