CHAPTER XVI
SMALL CRAFT SOMETIMES SAVE LARGE MEN-OF-WAR
When Vicomte d'Exmès was left alone with the Duc de Guise, he began the conversation thus,—
"Well, Monseigneur, are you content?"
"Yes, my friend," François de Lorraine replied,—"yes, I am content with the results so far attained, but I confess I am very anxious as to the future. It was this anxiety which drove me out of my tent to-night to wander about the camp, and come to you for encouragement and advice."
"But what is there new?" asked Gabriel. "I should imagine that the result so far has surpassed all your anticipations, has it not? In four days you have made yourself master of two of the outworks of Calais; besides, the defenders of the city itself and the Old Château cannot hold out more than forty-eight hours longer."
"Very true," said the duke; "but they can hold out that length of time, and that will be quite long enough to foil all our plans, and save themselves."
"Oh, Monseigneur must allow me to express my doubts of that," said Gabriel.
"No, my friend, my long experience does not mislead me," rejoined the Duc de Guise; "except for some unexpected piece of good fortune, or some occurrence beyond human foresight, our undertaking has failed. Believe me when I say this."
"But why?" asked Gabriel, with a smile, which contrasted strangely with the gloomy prognostications of the duke.
"I will tell you in two words, upon the basis of your own plan. Listen carefully to what I say."
"I am all attention," said Gabriel.
"The extraordinarily hazardous experiment into which your youthful enthusiasm seduced my more cautious ambition," continued the duke, "had no possible chance of success except in the isolation and complete surprise of the English garrison. Calais was impregnable, we were agreed, but might be taken by surprise. We reasoned out our insane enterprise along that line, did we not?"
"And up to the present moment," was Gabriel's reply, "the facts have borne us out in our reasoning."
"They have indeed," said the duke; "and you have demonstrated, Gabriel, that your judgment of men is as keen and far-seeing as your perception of facts; and that you had studied the disposition and character of the governor of Calais as carefully as the interior plan of his seat of government. Lord Wentworth has not belied a single one of your conjectures. He believed that his nine hundred men and his formidable outposts would suffice to make us repent of our reckless freak. He despised us too much to be alarmed, and did not deign to call a single company to his assistance, either from any other part of the continent or from England."
"I did indeed succeed in conjecturing how his arrogant pride would comport itself under such circumstances."
"Thanks to his overweening self-conceit," resumed the Duc de Guise, "we carried Fort Ste. Agathe almost without striking a blow, and the Nieullay fort after three days of successful fighting."
"So that at this moment," said Gabriel, cheerfully, "any bodies of English or Spaniards, coming by land to the rescue of their countrymen or their allies, will find the batteries of the Duc de Guise ready to exterminate them, instead of Lord Wentworth's cannon to second their assault."
"They will be on their guard, and will not approach very near," said the duke, smiling; for the young man's buoyant hopefulness was beginning to infect him.
"Well, then, have we not gained an important point?" said Gabriel.
"No doubt, no doubt," replied the duke; "but unfortunately it is not all, nor is it even the most important part. We have closed one of the roads by which outside reinforcements might enter Calais, and one of the gates of the city. But another gate and another road are still open."
"What one, pray, Monseigneur?" asked Gabriel, pretending to be in doubt.
"Cast your eye upon this map, drawn by Maréchal Strozzi, from the plan you furnished him," said the commander-in-chief. "Calais may be relieved at these two opposite points,—by the Nieullay fort, which covers the approaches on the landward side—"
"But which covers them for our benefit now," Gabriel interrupted.
"Very true," rejoined the duke; "but here on the ocean side, protected by the sea itself, by the marshes and sand-dunes, is the Risbank fort, do you see?—or if you choose to call it so, the Octagonal Tower,—a fort which commands the whole harbor, and makes it impossible for attacking vessels to enter. Let an express be sent to Dover, and in a few hours the English ships will transport hither enough troops and supplies to enable the place to hold out for years. Thus the Risbank fort protects the city, and the sea protects the Risbank fort. Now, Gabriel, do you know what Lord Wentworth has done since his last misfortune?"
"Perfectly well," rejoined Vicomte d'Exmès, calmly. "Lord Wentworth, acting upon the unanimous opinion of his council, has sent an express in hot haste to Dover, to make up for his culpable delay, and expects to receive by this time to-morrow the reinforcements of which he has at last admitted the need."
"Well, you have not finished?" said Monsieur de Guise.
"I confess, Monseigneur, that I cannot look ahead much further," replied Gabriel. "I have not the prescience of God."
"No more than human prescience is needed here," said François de Lorraine; "but since yours stops halfway, I will finish for you."
"I should be glad if Monseigneur would condescend to tell me what will ensue, in his opinion," said Gabriel, bowing respectfully.
"It is very simple," said Monsieur de Guise. "The besieged, reinforced, if need be, by all England, will be enabled after to-morrow to face us at the Old Château with a superior force, if not an absolutely invincible one. If, notwithstanding, we still maintain our position, every Spaniard and Englishman in France will come down upon us here in the suburbs of Calais like the winter's snow from Ardres and Ham and St. Quentin; and when they decide that their numbers are sufficient, they will take their turn at besieging us. I agree that they will not be able to take the Nieullay fort without some difficulty; but they will easily repossess themselves of Fort Ste. Agathe, and then they will have us at their mercy between two fires."
"Such a catastrophe would indeed be terrible," said Gabriel, coolly.
"Yet it is only too likely to happen," rejoined the duke, passing his hand despondently over his brow.
"But surely, Monseigneur," said Gabriel, "you have not failed to consider the means of preventing such a disaster?"
"I am thinking of nothing else, upon my soul!" said the Duc de Guise.
"Well?" asked Gabriel, carelessly.
"Well, our only chance,—and a very precarious and hopeless chance it is, alas!—is, in my opinion, to make a desperate assault upon the Old Château to-morrow, under any circumstances. Nothing will be in readiness, I am aware, even though we were to pass the whole night in most assiduous and unremitting labor. But there is no other course for us to take; and it is less foolhardy than it would be for us to await the arrival of reinforcements from England. The 'French fury,' as they call it in Italy, may possibly succeed, by dint of its extraordinary impetuosity, in storming these inaccessible walls."
"No, it will be helplessly shattered against them," rejoined Gabriel, coldly. "Pardon me, Monseigneur, but it seems to me that at this moment the French army is neither sufficiently strong nor sufficiently weak thus to attempt the impossible. A fearful responsibility rests upon you, Monseigneur. It is probable that we should be finally beaten back after we had lost half of our force. What does the Duc de Guise mean to do in that event?"
"Not to expose himself to total ruin, to a complete overthrow, at all events," said François de Lorraine, gloomily; "but to withdraw from before these cursed walls with such troops as I have left, and save them until better days dawn for our king and country."
"What, the victor of Metz and Renty retreat!" cried Gabriel.
"That is certainly much better than not knowing when one is beaten, as was the case with the constable on the day of St. Laurent," said the Duc de Guise.
"And yet," continued Gabriel, "it would be a disastrous blow to the glory of France, as well as to Monseigneur's reputation."
"Alas! who knows that so well as I?" exclaimed the duke. "See upon what slender threads depend success and fortune! If I had succeeded, I should have been a hero, a transcendent genius, a demigod; I fail, and I shall be henceforth only a vain and presumptuous fool, who well deserved the disgrace of his fall. The self-same undertaking which would have been called magnificent and marvellous, had it turned out happily, will draw upon me the ridicule of all Europe, and postpone if it does not destroy in the germ all my plans and hopes. To what do the paltry ambitions of this world lead!"
The duke ceased to speak, apparently a prey to bitter chagrin. There was a long silence, which Gabriel was very careful not to break.
He desired to give Monsieur de Guise ample opportunity to gauge the terrible difficulties of the crisis with his experienced eye.
When he considered that the duke must have probed them to the bottom, he said,—
"I see, Monseigneur, that you are at present involved in one of those periods of doubt and anxiety which come to the greatest of men in the midst of their greatest works. One word, however: Surely no such lofty genius, no such consummate general, as he to whom I have the honor of speaking, could have lightly engaged in so momentous an enterprise as this, unless the smallest details, the most unlikely contingencies, had all been discussed at the Louvre. You must have worked out in advance favorable results for all possible sudden changes of fortune, and remedies for all possible ills. How does it happen, then, that you are hesitating and seeking anew for them now?"
"Mon Dieu!" said the Duc de Guise, "your youthful enthusiasm and confidence fascinated and blinded me, I believe, Gabriel."
"Monseigneur!" said Gabriel, reproachfully.
"Oh, don't feel wounded, I beg, for I bear you no ill-will for it, my friend! I still admire your design, which was both a grand and a patriotic one. But stern reality is very fond of destroying our fairest dreams. Nevertheless, I remember distinctly that I laid before you certain objections, founded upon the possibility of this very extremity to which we are now reduced, and that you removed my scruples."
"And how, Monseigneur, please?"
"You promised me," said the Duc de Guise, "that if we succeeded in a few days in gaining possession of the two forts of Ste. Agathe and Nieullay, the secret arrangement that you had with persons in the town would place the Risbank fort in our hands, and thus Calais might be shut off from all hope of reinforcement by sea or land. Yes, Gabriel, I remember, and you must remember yourself, that you gave me that assurance."
"Very well!" said Gabriel, without the least symptom of anxiety or embarrassment.
"Well," rejoined the duke, "your hopes deceived you, did they not? Your friends in Calais have failed to keep their word, as was to be expected. They are evidently not yet certain of our success, and are timid; consequently they will not show themselves until it is too late to do us any good."
"Pardon me, Monseigneur, but who told you that?" asked Gabriel.
"Why, your very silence, my dear fellow. The time has come when our secret allies ought to come to our assistance, in which event they might perhaps save us. They give no sign, and your lips are sealed; therefore I conclude that you no longer rely upon them, and that we must renounce all hope of succor from that quarter."
"If you knew me better, Monseigneur," was Gabriel's response, "you would know that I never like to talk when I can act."
"What's that? Do you still have hopes?" asked the Duc de Guise.
"Yes, Monseigneur, since I am still living," Gabriel replied, in a grave and melancholy tone.
"And the Risbank fort?"
"Shall be in your hands when necessary, unless I am dead."
"But, Gabriel, it will be necessary to-morrow,—to-morrow morning!"
"Then we shall have it to-morrow morning!" replied Gabriel, calmly,—"that is, I say again, unless I fall; but in that event you cannot reproach one who has given his life in the attempt for his failure to keep his word."
"Gabriel," said the Duc de Guise, "what is it that you have in mind to do? Is it to face some mortal peril or to hazard some insane chance? I do not wish it; I do not wish it! France is only too much in need of such men as you."
"Be not at all alarmed, Monseigneur," rejoined Gabriel. "Though the danger be great, the end to be attained is even greater, and the enterprise is well worth the risk which attends it. You need only think how to profit by the result, and leave the means to me. I am only responsible for myself; but you are responsible for every man in the army."
"At least tell me what I can do to second your plan?" said the duke. "What part have you assigned to me?"
"Monseigneur," Gabriel replied, "if you had not done me the honor to come to my tent this evening, it was my intention to seek you in your own quarters, and to make a request."
"Go on,—speak!" said the duke, earnestly.
"To-morrow, the 5th of the month, at daybreak, Monseigneur,—that is to say, about eight o'clock, the nights being very long in January,—I ask you to station a look-out with keen sight on the promontory from which the Risbank fort can be seen. If the English flag is still waving there at that time, take the chances of the desperate assault you have resolved upon, for I shall have failed; in other words, I shall be dead."
"Dead!" cried the duke. "You see, Gabriel, that you are fearing your own destruction."
"In that event, waste no time in vain regrets for me, Monseigneur," said the youth; "only let everything be in readiness, and devote all your energy to your last effort; and I pray God to give you means of success! Let every man share in the attack! The reinforcements from England cannot possibly arrive before noon; therefore you will have jour hours of heroism before you in which to prove, ere you beat the retreat, that the French are as fearless as they are prudent."
"But, Gabriel, assure me again that you have some chance of success."
"Yes, indeed I have; be sure of that, Monseigneur. Therefore wait calmly and patiently, like the strong man that you are. Do not give the word too quickly for a headlong assault; I beg of you not to stake all upon that cast until it is actually necessary. Last of all, you need only keep Maréchal Strozzi and the miners quietly at work on the siege lines; and let your soldiers and artillerymen await the favorable moment for an assault, if at eight o'clock you are informed that the standard of France is flying over the Risbank fort."
"The standard of France over the Risbank fort!" cried the duke.
"A glance at it in such position," rejoined Gabriel, "will cause the ships on their way from England to retrace their steps without loss of time."
"I agree with you there," said Monsieur de Guise. "But, my dear friend, how will you do it?"
"Let me keep my secret, I implore you, Monseigneur," said Gabriel. "If you knew my extraordinary design, you might perhaps try to dissuade me from it. But it is no longer time to reflect and hesitate. Moreover, in all this I neither compromise the army nor yourself. These men here, the only ones whom I propose to employ, are all my own volunteers, and you agreed to leave me free to do as I would with them. I propose to accomplish my purpose unaided, or to die in the attempt."
"But why this pride?" asked the duke.
"It is not pride, Monseigneur; but I wish to requite as well as I can the priceless favor which you were good enough to promise me at Paris, and which I trust you remember."
"What priceless favor are you talking about, Gabriel?" said the duke. "I am supposed to have a good memory, especially where my friends are concerned; but I am ashamed to confess that in this instance I do not remember."
"Alas! Monseigneur," Gabriel rejoined, "it is a very important matter for me, however! This is what I asked of you: if it should be proved to your satisfaction that in the execution as well as the conception of the project, the taking of Calais was due to me, and to me alone, I begged you not to give me the credit in public, for that credit would belong to you, as leader of the expedition, but simply to announce to King Henri II. the share which I had had under your orders in the conquest. You then graciously allowed me to hope that reward would be accorded me."
"What! Is that the invaluable favor to which you allude, Gabriel?" asked the duke. "The deuce take me if I thought of that! But, my dear fellow, that will be no reward whatever, but a simple act of justice; and in secret or in public, as you choose, I shall be ever ready and willing to recognize and bear witness as I ought to your services and your deserts."
"My ambition does not go beyond what I have asked, Monseigneur," said Gabriel. "If the king be informed of my efforts, he has it in his power to bestow upon me a reward which would be worth more to me than all the honor and good fortune in the world."
"The king shall know all that you may have done for him, Gabriel. But can I do nothing more for you!"
"Indeed, Monseigneur, I have one or two other demands to make upon your good-will."
"Tell me," said the duke.
"In the first place," said Gabriel, "I must have the countersign, so that I may be able to leave camp with my people at any hour of the night I choose."
"You have only to say 'Calais and Charles,' and the sentinels will allow you to pass."
"Then, Monseigneur," said Gabriel, "if I fall, and your assault succeeds, I venture to remind you that Madame Diane de Castro, the king's daughter, is Lord Wentworth's prisoner, and has an indisputable claim upon your courteous protection."
"I will remember my duty as a man and a gentleman," rejoined the duke. "And then?"
"Lastly, Monseigneur, I am about to contract to-night a considerable debt to a fisherman of this coast, named Anselme. If Anselme dies with me, I have written to Master Elyot, who has charge of my property, to provide for the maintenance and well-being of his family, deprived as they will be of his support. But for greater security, Monseigneur, I would be deeply obliged if you would see that my orders are executed."
"It shall be done," said the duke. "Is that all?"
"It is, Monseigneur," Gabriel replied. "But if you never see me again, think of me sometimes, I beg, with a little regret, and speak of me as one for whom you had some esteem, whether it be to the king, who will surely be glad to hear of my death, or to Madame de Castro, who may perhaps be grieved. Now I will detain you no longer, but will bid you hire well, Monseigneur."
The Duc de Guise rose to go.
"Pray banish your gloomy thoughts, my friend," said he. "I leave you, so that you may be perfectly free to go on with your mysterious project; but I confess that until eight o'clock to-morrow, I shall be very anxious and shall find it hard to sleep. But it will be principally because of the obscurity which hides your operations from me. Something tells me that I shall see you again; therefore I will not say adieu."
"Thanks for the augury, Monseigneur," said Gabriel; "for if you see me again, it will be in Calais when it shall have become a French city."
"And in that event," said the duke, "you can fairly boast of having rescued the honor of France, and mine as well, from bitter peril."
"Small craft, Monseigneur, sometimes save large men-of-war," said Gabriel, bowing.
The Duc de Guise, at the door of the tent, gave Gabriel's hand a cordial grasp, and withdrew in deep thought to his headquarters.