Orrain: A Romance

  CHAPTER XII

  A WRITER OF COMMENTARIES

  I rode sullenly on, my eyes between my horse's ears. Pierrebon, wholoved to wag his tongue, once or twice tried to open a talk, butfinding his efforts useless dropped away back. It was not possible togo fast, as the horses were worn, and had to be saved for the stretchof nearly six leagues that lay between us and Poitiers, which, however,I had made up my mind to reach ere the gates were closed for the night.Despite all our care we were delayed by Pierrebon's nag casting a shoe,and this meant a stop for nearly an hour at a small hamlet, the name ofwhich I forget. At length matters were righted, and we continued ourjourney. The day was hot and overcast. Towards sunset the cloudsincreased, and ever and again the rumbling of thunder gave warning ofan approaching storm. We were, however, near Poitiers by this, andcould see the spires of the churches and the black mass of the city. Idrew rein for a moment to look, and almost felt as if my task weredone, when Pierrebon exclaimed:

  "_Allons_, monsieur! it has come!"

  And with a vengeance, too. First a few warm drops, then a blaze oflightning, a crash of thunder, and then rain in torrents. It becamedark, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we could find ourway. But at length we reached the Pont Joubert, and passing the Chapelof the Holy Virgin, raised in memory of the miraculous preservation ofthe city during the war of the hundred years, we entered Poitiers. Itis true we had reached it, but it seemed as if our difficulties hadonly begun. What with the darkness and the wind blowing the rainstraight in our faces, so that we could barely see, it would have beenhard for us to have found our way anywhere, even if we knew the city,but neither Pierrebon nor I had been in Poitiers before. In thebasement of the guard-tower flanking the gate lights were burning, anda group of soldiers were sitting at a table playing at dice, whilst afew stray travellers were huddled together at the entrance, waiting,perhaps, for the storm to pass, and continually peering out into thedarkness from their shelter, if such it could be called. I made my waythere, and had to shout twice ere I was heard, so great was the noiseof the tempest. Finally the ancient of the gate came up, and I askedhim for the nearest inn. He answered, civilly enough:

  "'Tis but a little way, monsieur. Go straight down the Rue du PigeonBlanc, past Ste. Radegonde, and the Filles de Notre Dame, there in theplace St. Simplicien----"

  "But I know nothing of Poitiers. How am I to find my way?"

  To this he shrugged his shoulders and laughed; but at this juncture aboy stepped forth out of the group at the door and offered to guide usto the inn. This offer I accepted, and with a word of thanks to theancient we went on--the last thing we heard being hoarse orders shoutedout to close the gates. Our way was lit by continuous flashes oflightning, and by one of these, lasting longer than usual, I saw on ahill which overlooked the Church of Ste. Radegonde, her right handoutstretched as if invoking a blessing on the city, the colossal Virginof Poitiers all shining with light--light that seemed to flame backfrom the statue against the storm. So impressive was it that Pierreboncrossed himself, and the boy sank on his knees in the water that hummedalong the street with an "Ave, ave!"

  The sight was one I have never forgotten, and has often given mesubject for reflection, so that I am firmly convinced that even if aGod did not exist the imagination of man would conjure one up for hisworship.

  It was lucky that we found a guide, for, short as the distance was, Idoubt if we would have found our way that night to the hostel of theElephant, for so the inn was called. Once there I gave the boy a coin,bidding him get something to eat, for he looked as though he needed it,and told him to wait, as I would require him shortly. I determined tohalt there until the storm had subsided a little, and inquired whereMontluc resided. He had but lately come, I was informed, and was forthe present temporarily lodged in the priory of the Capuchins. So,taking the opportunity whilst I waited for the rain to diminish, I hadsome refreshment, and attended to my arm, which was still painful. Ithen made arrangements with the landlord for another horse, as nothingwould have induced me to ride my own poor beast farther that night.This being settled, I waited for half an hour or so, when the stormsomewhat abated, though the wind was still high, and there was a sharpdrizzle. Then mounting the hired horse, and giving the boy a lantern Ihad borrowed, I bade him guide me to the priory of the Capuchins.

  On we went, the wind and rain in our faces. By good luck the lanternheld out, though its light was not much better than that of a glowworm.We picked our way through narrow streets swimming with water, pastgutters babbling like mountain streams, and made a snail's progressthrough that infernal night. Now and again a broad sheet of lightningblazed athwart the darkness, showing the black and uneasy cloudsoverhead, and giving a momentary glimpse of tall, ghostly towers, ofgabled roofs and pointed windows, and of houses that seemed to leanforward and form arcades, below which the crooked, glistening streetswound. As we were passing a large church--I found out later that itwas St. Croix--the bells began to sound compline, and then from everysteeple and spire in the city the chime was echoed, and borne acrossthe night in strange sweetness by the storm. My little guide made hisway bravely, and at length--it seemed an age--we reached the priory ofthe Capuchins. Lights were burning everywhere, and there was a hugelog fire spluttering at the gate, which was still open. The archedpassage beyond the gate, which led to the forecourt, was full of men,not hooded Capuchins, but men-at-arms, and it was easy to see that thepriory had been turned into a camp. I explained that I bore despatchesfrom Paris for M. de Montluc, and the words acted like magic. I wastold to leave my horse to the boy, and was led along the galleries thatbounded the cloisters of the forecourt. They were full of men, but allorderly and quiet, as may be imagined with Montluc at hand. At lengthwe reached the hall, and there I was asked to wait until the Generalwas informed of my arrival. All dripping and wet as I was, andunheeding the glances cast at me by those who were there, I sat down ona bench near the fireplace, in which, on account of the damp, a firehad been lit, and glowered into the flames, the blue smoke rising inlittle columns from my drenched clothes. No one spoke to me, nor did Iaddress anyone, and I was struck by the extraordinary silence that waspreserved. Men spoke in whispers, and even when a man-at-arms passed,his step was as light as that of a monk.

  "Monsieur," said a voice, "will you have the goodness to follow me?"

  I looked up, and saw an officer wearing the red and white sash ofRandan's Light Horse, my old comrades, and the sight of the coloursafter so many years affected me to such a degree that at first I wasunable to move, and the officer had to repeat his request. Then Iarose, and followed him up what seemed an interminable stair. At lastwe halted before a door, and here to the knock we heard a sharp"Enter." Stepping in, I found myself before Montluc, and apologisedfor appearing in the drenched condition I was in. He took no notice ofme, however, but kept walking up and down the cabinet like a tiger. Hewas in demi-mail, the collar of the Order at his neck, and as he pacedthe room with a halting step I observed with interest and respect thegreat soldier who in forty years of glorious service had but twice seenthe Court. His defence of Siena was still ringing through Europe; butback upon that one saw the field of Pavia, the campaign in Naples, thedefence of Marseilles, the siege of Perpignan, and the gloriouscampaign of Italy, which ended in the crown of Cerisolles, and where,but for him, the day was lost. I had served at Cerisolles myself; butthough I had seen Montluc I had never known him. Years had, however,seemed to make no impression upon him; and, tall and lean, with longgrey moustaches, and glittering, grey-green eyes, he looked like afierce and starving cat as he restlessly limped to and fro.

  At last he suddenly stopped, and, resting a hand on the hip broken atChieri, asked me abruptly:

  "I am told you have brought despatches from Paris?"

  "Monsieur!" And taking out the packet I had been entrusted with Ihanded it to him.

  He received it in silence, and sitting down at a table littered withpapers examined the seal
s. Then drawing his poniard he was about tocut open the packet when he arrested himself, saying:

  "I see it is from the Queen."

  "Monsieur, it was given to me by her Majesty herself, and when you haveread it I have a message for you."

  "The Queen must trust you."

  "She has in this case, monsieur."

  He smiled grimly, and opened the packet. As he read his face assumedso malign and fierce an aspect that I had little difficulty inpersuading myself of the truth of the stories of savage cruelty that Ihad heard of him. When he had finished he set down the paper, andasked calmly enough:

  "Your message, monsieur?"

  I told him, he taking it down word for word, and placing the papercarefully in a drawer, out of which he drew a parchment roll.

  "You see this, monsieur? It is my patent as lieutenant of the South.After nearly forty years of service it was given to me. I have held ita month--and now--it is waste-paper." And with that he flung it intothe drawer, which he shut with a clash.

  "They have need of me in Italy again, they say; and when I am gone,mark my words, these psalm-singing Huguenots, these Chrysostoms, whom Ihave made skip like the hills in their own hymn, will be in Poitiers ina week." And he laughed harshly as he went on: "They fear I shall turnagainst them, and throw in my lot with these others--I--Blaise deMontluc! Tell them I am a soldier of my King, that I am but a poorgentleman of the South, who when his time is done will hang up hissword in his Chateau of Estillac, and die there, unless God answers hisprayer and lets him die on the field."

  I saw before me the sudden breaking of great hopes, and, as I thenthought, the ruin of a great career, and stammered out: "Monsieur, youwill soon be back."

  He smiled, and then, as if pushing all aside from his mind: "This willat any rate make a chapter of my commentaries. I am writing them inthe style of Caesar, whom I hope to surpass in this. At present, Ihave carried them as far as the sieges of Parma and La Mirandole by thearmies of the Holy Father and the Emperor." With this he pointed at apile of manuscript that lay on the table, as he added, with true Gasconconceit: "It is better that they who make history should write itrather than leave it to some scoundrel clerk, as I hear Vieilleville isdoing."

  He seemed to have forgotten his misfortune in the contemplation of hiswriting, and on my applauding his sentiment, he, looking at my arm,which was still in its sling, asked how I had hurt it. I told himbriefly, and he listened in silence, until I gave him information of DeGanache and the Huguenots at Richelieu. Then he stopped me.

  "Are you sure they were there last night?"

  "Yes, and probably till late to-day."

  "Then we will have most of them here as our guests, monsieur, in acouple of days at the latest. I want De Ganache badly, and would likemuch to finish with him ere they finish with me."

  I thought of Diane, and in my heart sent up a prayer that, on thisoccasion at least, the Huguenots might escape Montluc's claws; and theGeneral went on:

  "I see, monsieur, the Queen has recommended you as one to be trustedentirely--and the Queen is not easily deceived. You are, she says, acitizen of Paris, and have borne arms--where?"

  "In the Milanese, monsieur. I was at Cerisolles with Monsieurd'Enghien."

  "Good! And after that?"

  "I did not serve, monsieur."

  We looked hard at each other, and a dry but not unkindly smile sat onhis lips.

  "Would you care to see Italy again?"

  "If the Queen has no further need for me I am ready."

  "We will leave it so, then. In the meantime, you may, perhaps, have alittle commission to execute for me, or rather for the Queen. Thatwill keep you employed until you finally decide. It may need usingyour sword. Does your wound trouble you?"

  "It will be healed in less than a week."

  "Well, go now and rest. You are being lodged here, of course?"

  "I have secured a lodging at the Elephant, monsieur."

  "Then to-morrow you must come here. I will see to that, for I like tolay hands on a man when I want him." And with this he struck a gong,and the officer who had brought me in appeared.

  "Sarlaboux," said the General, "let Monsieur Broussel be conductedsafely to his inn, and see that no harm befalls him."

  I was about to take my leave when Montluc stopped me.

  "A word!-- That little story of yours in connection with your wound,monsieur, has interested me. I will give it a place in mycommentaries." And he took up his pen as I retired, followed bySarlaboux.

  I may add that, many years after, it was my good fortune to see a copyof the old Marshal's commentaries, which had been made for his brother,Monseigneur the Bishop of Valence. By some strange chance, for herarely forgot anything, he had omitted my story, nor was there anymention of the secret communication I made to him; and, perhaps, thiswas due to design. He was a great soldier and a great man, whose lifemay be summed up in the motto of his house: _Deo duce, ferro comite_.