CHAPTER III
IN CAMP
"Yes, gentlemen," said the Duc de Guise, as he entered his tent, to the noblemen who were in attendance upon him; "yes, to-day, this 24th of April, 1557, in the evening, after having entered Neapolitan territory on the 15th, and taken Campli in four days, we are laying siege to Civitella. On the 1st of May, having made ourselves masters of Civitella, we will sit down before Aquila. On the 10th of May we shall be at Arpino, and on the 20th at Capua, where we will not be caught napping, as Hannibal was. On the 1st of June, gentlemen, I hope to show you Naples, please God."
"And how about the Pope, my dear brother?" said the Duc d'Aumale. "His Holiness, who was so very free with his promises of assisting us with the papal troops, has abandoned us so far to our own resources, so it seems to me; and our army is hardly strong enough to take such risks in a hostile country."
"Paul IV.," said François, "is too deeply interested in the success of our forces to leave us without assistance. What a beautifully clear, bright night it is, gentlemen! Biron, do you know whether the partisans, of whose expected rising in the Abruzzi the Caraffas told us, have begun to make any stir yet?"
"They don't budge, Monseigneur; I have late news that can be depended on."
"Well, our musketry will wake them up," said the Duc de Guise. "Monsieur le Marquis d'Elbœuf," he resumed, "have you heard aught from the convoys of provisions and ammunition which we should have met at Ascoli, and which surely ought to come up to us here, I should say?"
"Yes, I have heard from them, Monseigneur, but at Rome; and since then, alas—"
"Merely a little delay," the Duc de Guise broke in,—"surely it is nothing but a little delay; and after all, we are not altogether unprovided. The taking of Campli helped out our commissariat somewhat; and if I should enter the tent of any one of you gentlemen an hour from now, I'll warrant I should find a first-rate supper on the board, and seated at table with you some disconsolate widow or pretty orphan from Campli, whom you make it your duty to console. Nothing could be better, gentlemen. Besides, it is the bounden duty of the conqueror, and is what makes victory so sweet, is it not? Well, I will keep you no longer now from your pleasures. To-morrow, at daybreak, I will send for you to concert the means of cutting into this sugar-loaf of Civitella; till then, gentlemen, a good appetite, and good-night."
The duke smilingly escorted his generals to the door of his tent; but when the curtain which formed the door had fallen behind the last of them, and François de Guise was left alone, his manly features at once assumed a careworn expression, and seating himself at a table and leaning his head on his hands, he said beneath his breath with much anxiety,—
"Can it be that I should have done better to renounce all personal ambition, to content myself with being simply Henri II.'s general, and to limit my achievements to the recovery of Milan and the liberation of Sienna? Here am I in this kingdom of Naples of which in my dreams I have heard myself called the king; but I am without allies, and shall soon be without provisions; and all my officers, with my brother at their head, with not an energetic, capable mind among them, are already beginning to be disheartened, and to lose their courage, I can see plainly."
At this moment the duke heard a step behind him. He turned quickly, with an angry greeting on his lips for the bold intruder; but when he saw who it was, instead of reproving him, he held out his hand to him.
"You are not the man, Vicomte d'Exmès, are you," said he, "you are not the man, my dear Gabriel, ever to think twice about going on with an undertaking, because bread is scarce and the enemy plenty?—you, who were the last to go out of Metz, and the first to enter Valenza and Campli. But have you come to tell me anything new, my friend?"
"Yes, Monseigneur, a courier has arrived from France," Gabriel replied. "He is, I think, the bearer of letters from your illustrious brother, Monseigneur le Cardinal de Lorraine. Shall I have him brought before you?"
"No, but let him hand you the despatches that he has, Viscount, and do you bring them to me yourself, please."
Gabriel bowed, left the tent, and came back almost immediately, bringing a letter sealed with the arms of the house of Lorraine.
The six years that had passed since our story opened had scarcely changed our old friend Gabriel, except that his features had taken on a more manly and determined expression. He would at once have been picked out as a man who had put his own worth to the proof and knew it well. But he had always the same calm and serious brow, the same true and open look, and, let us say at once, the same heart full of the hopes and illusions of youth; and well it might be so, for he was only twenty-four even now.
The Duc de Guise was thirty-seven; and although his was a noble and generous nature, his mind had already returned from many places where Gabriel's had never yet been; and more than one disappointed ambition, more than one burnt-out passion, more than one fruitless contest, had sunk his eye deep in his head, and worn the hair from his temples. Yet he none the less understood and loved the chivalrous and devoted character of Gabriel; and an irresistible attraction drew the man of years and experience toward the trustful youth.
He took his brother's letter from Gabriel's hands, and said to him before opening it,—
"Listen, Vicomte d'Exmès: my secretary, Hervé de Thelen, whom you knew, died under the walls of Valenza; my brother D'Aumale is only a soldier, gallant but without ability; I need a right arm, Gabriel, a confidential friend and assistant. Now, since you came to me at my hotel at Paris, some five or six years since, I should say, I have become convinced that you have a mind above the ordinary, and better still, a faithful heart. I know nothing of you but your name,—and there never lived a Montgommery who wasn't brave; but you came to me without a word of recommendation from any one, and notwithstanding, I was attracted by you at once! I took you with me to the defence of Metz; and if that defence is to furnish one of the fairest pages of my life's story, if after sixty-five days of assault we succeeded in driving from before the walls of Metz an army of a hundred thousand men and a general who was called Charles V., I must remember that your gallantry, conspicuous at every turn, and your keen mind, always on the watch, had no inconsiderable share in that glorious result. The following year you were still with me when I won the battle of Renty; and if that ass Montmorency, well christened the—but I must not insult my foe, I must rather praise my friend and my brave companion,—Gabriel, Vicomte d'Exmès, the worthy relative of the worthy Montgommerys. I must say to you, Gabriel, that on every occasion, and more than ever since we came into Italy, I have found your assistance, your advice, and your affection of advantage to me, and have absolutely only one fault to find with you, and that is being too reserved and discreet with your general. Yes, I am sure that there is, somewhere or other in your life, a sentiment or a thought that you are hiding from me, Gabriel. But what of that? Some day you will confide it to me, and the important thing is to know that there is something for you to do. Pardieu! I also have something to do,—I, Gabriel; and if you say the word, we will join our fortunes, and you will help me, and I you. When I have an important and difficult undertaking to intrust to another, I will call upon you. When a powerful patron becomes essential to the furtherance of your plans, I will be on hand. Is it a bargain?"
"Oh, Monseigneur," Gabriel replied, "I am yours, body and soul! What I desired, first of all, was to be able to trust in myself and induce others to trust in me. Now I have succeeded in acquiring a little self-confidence, and you condescend to have some regard for me; so I have succeeded in my ambition up to the present time. But that a different ambition may hereafter summon me to fresh exertions, I do not deny; and when that time comes, Monseigneur,—since you have been kind enough to allow me to take such a step,—I will surely have recourse to you, just as you may count upon me in life or in death."
"Well said, per Bacco! as these drunken dogs of cardinals say. And do you be quite easy in your mind, Gabriel, for François de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, will spare no warmth to serve you in love or in hatred; for one or the other of these passions is at work in us, is it not, my master?"
"Both, perhaps, Monseigneur."
"Ah! so? And when your heart is so full, how can you resist letting it overflow into the heart of a friend?"
"Alas, Monseigneur, because I scarcely know whom I love, and have no idea at all whom I hate!"
"Indeed! Just suppose, then, Gabriel, since your enemies are to be mine henceforth,—just suppose that old rake Montmorency should happen to be among them!”
"It may very well be so, Monseigneur; and if my suspicions have any foundation—But we must not bother about my affairs at this crisis; it is with you and your far-reaching plans that we have to do. How can I be of service to you, Monseigneur?"
"In the first place, read me this letter from my brother, the Cardinal de Lorraine, Gabriel."
Gabriel broke the seal and unfolded the letter, and after having cast a glance at it, handed it back to the duke, saying, as he did so,—
"Pardon, Monseigneur, but this letter is written in peculiar characters, and I cannot read it."
"Ah!" said the duke, "was it Jean Panquet's courier who brought it, then? It must be a confidential communication, I see,—a grated letter, so to speak. Wait a moment, Gabriel!"
He opened a casket of chased iron and took from it a paper with pieces cut out at regular intervals, which he laid carefully upon the cardinal's letter. "There," said he, handing it to Gabriel, "read it now!"
Gabriel seemed to have some hesitation about doing as he was bid; but François took his hand and pressed it, and said again, with a look of perfect confidence and good faith, "Come, read it; there's a good fellow!"
So the Vicomte d'Exmès read as follows:—
"Monsieur, my most honored and illustrious brother (ah, when shall I be able to call you by that one little word of four letters,—Sire!)—"
Gabriel stopped again; and the duke said, smiling,—
"You are astonished, Gabriel, and no wonder; but I trust that you have no suspicions of me. The Duc de Guise is not another Constable de Bourbon, my friend; and may God keep Henri's crown on his head, and grant him long life! But is there no other throne in the world save the throne of France? Since chance has placed me on an absolutely confidential footing with you, Gabriel, I do not wish to hide anything from you; but I am anxious to make known to you all my plans, and all my dreams, which are not, I think, such as could spring from a commonplace soul."
The duke rose and strode up and down the tent.
"Our family, which is allied to so many royal houses, may well, in my mind, Gabriel, aspire to any height of greatness. But the mere aspiration is nothing; attainment is my ambition. Our sister is Queen of Scotland; our niece, Mary Stuart, is betrothed to the Dauphin François; our grand-nephew, the Duc de Lorraine, is the chosen son-in-law of the king. And that is not all: in addition, we claim to represent the second house of Anjou, from which we are descended in the female line. Thence we derive our claims or rights—it's all the same thing—to Provence and Naples. Let us be content with Naples for the moment. Would not that crown look better on a Frenchman's head than on a Spaniard's? Now, what was my purpose in coming to Italy? To seize that crown. We are in alliance with the Duc de Ferrara, and closely bound to the Pope's nephews, the Caraffas. Paul IV. is an old man, and my brother, the Cardinal de Lorraine, will succeed him. The throne of Naples is tottering, and I will mount it; and that is why, mon Dieu! I left Sienna and the Milanais behind me to pounce upon the Abruzzi. It was a glorious dream; but I fear greatly that it will never be more than a dream. For just consider, Gabriel, that I had less than twelve thousand men when I crossed the Alps! The Duc de Ferrara had promised me seven thousand; but he kept them on his own territory. Paul and the Caraffas had boasted how they would stir up a powerful faction in my interest in the kingdom of Naples, and agreed to furnish me with troops and money and supplies; but they have not sent me a man or a wagon or a sou. My officers are beginning to draw back, and my troops are murmuring. But it makes no difference; I will go on to the bitter end. I will not leave this promised land which my foot is now upon except at the last gasp; and if I do leave it, I will return! I will return!"
The duke stamped on the ground as if to take possession of it; his eyes shone; and he was noble and beautiful to look upon.
"Monseigneur," cried Gabriel, "how proud am I that I may be allowed to be your companion, to have such a trifling part as I may in such a glorious ambition!"
"And now," the duke said, smiling, "that I have given you the key to my brother's letter twice over, I fancy that you will be able to read and understand it So go on with it, while I listen."
"'Sire!' That is where I left off," said Gabriel.
"I have to inform you of two items of bad tidings and one of good. The good news is that the nuptials of our niece, Mary Stuart, are finally fixed for the 20th of next month, and are to be celebrated in due form at Paris on that day. One of the other pieces of news, of an evil tenor, comes from England. Philip II. of Spain has landed there, and is urging every day upon Queen Mary Tudor, his wife, who is passionately devoted to him, a declaration of war against France. No one has any doubt that he will succeed, although his wishes are directly opposed to the interest and the desire of the English people. There is talk already of an army to be assembled on the frontiers of the Low Countries, under the command of Philibert Emmanuel of Savoy. In that event, my dearest brother, we are suffering so from scarcity of troops here at home that Henri will be forced to recall you from Italy, so that our plans in that direction will at least have to be postponed. And consider, François, how much better it would be to delay their execution for a while than to compromise them; let there be no headstrong recklessness. It will be in vain for our sister, the Queen Regent of Scotland, to threaten to break with England, for you may believe that Mary of England, altogether infatuated with her young husband, will pay no attention to it; so take your measures accordingly."
"By Heaven!" broke in the Duc de Guise, bringing his fist down violently on the table, "you say only too well, my brother; and it takes a sly fox to smell the hounds. Yes, Mary the prude will surely allow herself to be led astray by her lawful husband; and no, of course I cannot openly disobey the king when he calls upon me to send his soldiers to him at so serious a crisis; and I would rather hold my hand from all the kingdoms on earth. Well, then, one obstacle the more in the way of this accursed expedition; for I leave it to you to say if it is not accursed, Gabriel, in spite of the Holy Father's blessing! Come, Gabriel, tell me frankly, for my ear alone, you do look upon it as hopeless, don't you?"
"I should not like, Monseigneur," said Gabriel, "to have you class me with those who easily lose their courage; and yet, since you ask my opinion in all sincerity—"
"Enough, Gabriel! I understand you and agree with you. I foresee that it is not at this time that we are fated to accomplish together the great things that we were planning just now; but I swear to you that this is only a postponement, and to strike a blow at Philip II. in any part of his dominions will always be equivalent to attacking him here at Naples. But go on, Gabriel, for if I remember aright we have other evil tidings still to hear."
Gabriel resumed his reading.
"The other troublesome affair that I have to tell you of will be of no less serious moment, because it concerns our family's private matters; but there is no doubt still time to avert it, and so I make haste to give you notice of it. It is necessary that you should know that since your departure Monsieur le Connétable de Montmorency has shown, and quite naturally, the same ugly and bitter spirit toward us, and has never ceased to be envious of us, and to fume and swear, as has always been his custom whenever the king showed any favor to our family. The approaching celebration of our dear niece Mary's nuptials with the dauphin is not calculated to put him in a good humor. The balance which it is to the king's interest to preserve between the two houses of Guise and Montmorency is depressed considerably in our favor by this event; and the old constable is making a terrible clamor and outcry for something to counterbalance it. He has found this counterpoise, my dear brother, in a match between his son François, the prisoner of Thérouanne, and—"
The young count did not finish the sentence. His voice faltered, and every drop of blood left his face.
"Well, what's the matter, Gabriel?" asked the duke. "How pale you are and how discomposed! Did you have a sudden attack of pain?"
"Nothing, Monseigneur, absolutely nothing, except possibly a little over-fatigue and a slight dizziness; but I am all right again now, and will go on if you please. Let me see, where was I? The cardinal was saying, I think, that there was a remedy. Oh, no, farther along. Here's the place:—"
"In a match between his son François and Madame Diane de Castro, the legitimatized daughter of the king and Madame Diane de Poitiers. You will remember, brother, that Madame de Castro, who was left a widow at the age of thirteen, her husband, Horace Farnèse, having been killed at the siege of Hesdin six months after the wedding, remained for five years at the convent of the Filles-Dieu at Paris. The king, at the constable's solicitation, sent for her to return to court. She is a perfect pearl of beauty, my brother, and you know that I am a competent judge. Her charms made a conquest of all hearts at first sight, and of the father's heart more than all the rest. The king, who had already endowed her with the duchy of Chatellerault, has added the duchy of Angoulême to her possessions. She has been here only two weeks, and yet her supreme influence over the king is already an admitted fact. Her fascination and her sweet disposition are, no doubt, the moving causes of his very great fondness for her. At last things have got to such a point that Madame de Valentinois, who for some unknown reason has thought fit to invent another mother for Madame de Castro, seems to me just at present to be very jealous of this newly risen power. So it will be a very good thing for the constable if he succeeds in getting such a potent ally into his household. Between ourselves, you know that Diane de Poitiers never can refuse much of anything to the old villain; and although our brother D'Aumale is her son-in-law, Anne de Montmorency is still more closely connected with her. The king, moreover, is inclined to make some amends for the preponderating force which he sees that we are beginning to wield in his council and his armies. And this infernal marriage is very likely to be brought about."
"Again your voice falters, Gabriel," the duke interposed; "rest a bit, my boy, and let me finish the letter myself, for it interests me exceedingly. For, to tell the truth, that will give the constable a dangerous advantage over us. But I thought that great gaby of a François was already married to a De Fiennes. Come, give me the letter, Gabriel."
"But I am all right, upon my word, Monseigneur," said Gabriel, who had been reading a few lines ahead, "and I am perfectly well able to read the few lines that remain."
"This infernal marriage is very likely to be brought about. There is only one thing in our favor. François de Montmorency is bound by a secret marriage to Mademoiselle de Fiennes; and so a divorce is a necessary preliminary. But for that, the Pope's assent must be obtained; and François is just setting out for Rome to obtain it. So make it your business, my dear brother, to anticipate him with his Holiness, and through our friends the Caraffas and your own influence to induce him to reject the petition for a divorce, which will be supported, let me warn you, by a letter from the king. But the threatened position is of sufficient importance to call forth your best energies to defend it, as you defended St. Dizier and Metz. I will act with you to the best of my ability, for it will need all we both can do. And with this, my dear brother, I pray God to grant you a long and happy life."
"Well, nothing is lost yet," said the Duc de Guise, when Gabriel had finished reading the cardinal's letter; "and the Pope, who refuses to supply me with soldiers, might at least be willing to make me a present of a bull."
"So, then," said Gabriel, trembling with emotion, "you have some hope that his Holiness will refuse to ratify this divorce from Jeanne de Fiennes, and will be opposed to this marriage of François de Montmorency?"
"Yes, yes! indeed, I have hopes of it. But how deeply moved you are, my friend! Dear Gabriel! he does enter passionately into our interests! I am quite as heartily at your service, Gabriel, be sure of that. And come now, let us talk about your affairs a little; and since, in this undertaking, of which I can foresee the issue only too plainly, you will scarcely have an opportunity, I imagine, to swell the list of noteworthy services for which I am in your debt, by any fresh exploits, suppose I make a beginning of paying my debt to you? I don't choose to be too heavily in arrear, my good fellow. Can I be of help or assistance to you in any way whatever? Tell me now; come, tell me frankly."
"Oh, Monseigneur is too kind," replied Gabriel; "and I do not see—"
"For these last five years, when you have been continually fighting under me," said the duke, "you have never accepted a sou from me. You must be in need of money; why, God bless me, everybody needs money. It is not a gift or a loan that I offer you, but payment of a debt. So let's have no empty scruples; and although we are, as you know, rather pressed for money, still—"
"Yes, I do know very well, Monseigneur, that the want of a little means sometimes causes your grandest schemes to fall through; and I am so far from being in need myself that I was going to offer you some thousands of crowns, which would come in very handily for the army, and are quite useless to me, really."
"And which I will gladly accept, for they come at a very good time, I confess; and so one can do absolutely nothing for you, O young man without a wish! But stay," he added in a lower tone, "that rascal Thibault, my body-servant, you know, at the sack of Campli, day before yesterday, put aside for me the young wife of the procureur of the town, the beauty of the neighborhood, judging from what I hear, always excepting the governor's wife, on whom no one can lay his hand. But as for me, upon my word, I have too many other cares in my head, and my hair is getting grizzly. Come, Gabriel, what would you say to my prize? Sang-Dieu! but you are built just right to make amends for the loss of a procureur! What do you say to it?"
"I say, Monseigneur, with regard to the governor's wife, of whom you speak, and upon whom no hand has been laid, that it was I who fell in with her in the confusion, and carried her away, not to abuse my rights, as you might think. On the contrary, my object was to shield a noble and beautiful woman from the violence of a licentious soldiery. But I have since discovered that the fair creature would have no objection to adopting the cause of the victors, and would be very glad to shout, like the soldier of Gaul: 'Væ victis!' But since I am now, alas! less inclined than ever to echo her sentiments, I can, if you desire, Monseigneur, have her brought here to one who can appreciate better than I, and more worthily, her charms and her rank."
"Oh, oh!" cried the duke, laughing heartily. "Such extraordinary morality almost savors of the Huguenot, Gabriel. Can it be that you have a secret leaning toward those of the religion? Ah, take heed, my friend! I am by conviction, and by policy, which is worse, an ardent Catholic, and I will have you burned without pity. But come, joking apart, why the deuce are you so strait-laced?"
"Because I am in love, perhaps," said Gabriel.
"Oh, yes, I remember, a hate and a love. Well, then, can't I show my good-will to you by putting you in a way to meet your foes or your love? Are you in want of a title, for example?"
"Thanks, Monseigneur; I am no longer in need of that, and as I said to you in the first place, my ambition is not for vague and empty honors, but for a little personal renown. Therefore, since you conclude that there is nothing more of importance to be done here, and I am not likely to be of much use to you, it would be a very great gratification to me to be commissioned by you to carry to Paris, for the marriage of your royal niece, for instance, the flags you have won in Lombardy and in the Abruzzi. My happiness would leave nothing to be desired if you would deign to give me a letter to his Majesty, which should bear witness to him and to the whole court that some of these flags have been taken by my own hand, not altogether without danger to myself."
"Indeed, I will! That is very easily done; and more than that, it is quite right too," said the Duc de Guise. "I shall be very sorry to part with you; but in all probability it will only be for a short time, if war breaks out on the Flemish frontier, as everything seems to indicate, and we will meet again there, will we not, Gabriel? Your place is always where there is fighting to be done; and that is why you are so anxious to get away from here, where there is nothing to be had now but weariness and ennui, by Heaven! But we will have better sport in the Low Countries, Gabriel, and I trust that we shall enjoy it together there."
"I shall be only too glad to follow you, Monseigneur."
"Meanwhile, how soon would you like to be off, Gabriel, to carry to the king this wedding gift, of which your brain conceived the idea?"
"The sooner the better, I should say, Monseigneur, if the marriage is to take place on the 20th of May, as Monseigneur le Cardinal de Lorraine informs you."
"Very true. Well, then, you shall go to-morrow, Gabriel; and you will have none too much time either. So go and get some rest, my friend, while I write the letter which will commend you to the king's notice, as well as the reply to my brother's, of which you will kindly take charge; and say to him besides, that I hope for a favorable result to the matter in which the Pope is concerned."
"And perhaps, Monseigneur," said Gabriel, "my presence at Paris may help along the result you desire to that matter, and so my absence may be of some service to you."
"Always mysterious, Vicomte d'Exmès! but I am used to it from you. Adieu, then; and may the last night that you pass near me be a pleasant one!"
"I will return in the morning to get my letters and your blessing, Monseigneur. Ah! I leave with you my retainers, who have followed me in all my campaigns. I ask your permission to take with me only two of them and my squire, Martin-Guerre; he will answer all my needs; he is devoted to me, and is afraid of only two things in the whole world,—his wife and his shadow."
"How is that?" said the duke, laughing.
"Monseigneur, Martin-Guerre fled from his native place, Artigues, near Rieux, to get away from his wife Bertrande, whom he adored, but who used to beat him. He entered my service after Metz; but either the Devil or his wife, to torment him or punish him for his sins, kept appearing to him from time to time in his own image. Yes, all of a sudden, he would see by his side another Martin-Guerre, a striking likeness of himself, as like as if it were his reflection in a mirror; and by our Lady! that frightened him. But for all that he has an utter contempt for bullets, and would carry a redoubt single-handed. At Renty and at Valenza he twice saved my life."
"Take this valiant coward with you by all means, Gabriel. Give me your hand again, my dear friend, and be ready in the morning. My letters will be waiting for you."
Gabriel was ready to start bright and early the next day; he passed the night dreaming without closing his eyes. He waited on the Duc de Guise to receive his last instructions, and pay his parting respects, and on the 26th of April, at six in the morning, he set out for Rome, and thence for Paris, attended by Martin-Guerre and two of his followers.