CHAPTER XIX
ARNAULD DU THILL, THOUGH ABSENT, CONTINUES TO EXERT
A FATAL INFLUENCE ON THE DESTINY OF POOR MARTIN-GUERRE
It was a moment of fearful suffering,—a supreme crisis. Gabriel saw that he was threatened by three distinct dangers. Beneath his feet, the roaring sea seemed to be calling to its prey with its mighty voice. Before him twelve terrified men, unable to move either forward or back, barred the road to the third source of danger,—the English pikes and arquebuses which were perhaps waiting for them to show their heads above the battlements.
On all sides, terror and death seemed to threaten the poor beings upon that vibrating ladder.
Fortunately, Gabriel was not the man to waste precious time in hesitating even between two formidable perils, and he made up his mind in an instant.
He never stopped to wonder whether his grasp might not fail, and his brains be dashed out on the rocks below. Clinging closely to the rope that formed one side of the ladder, he raised himself by his hands alone, and passed by the twelve men in front of him one after another.
Thanks to his enormous strength of muscle, as well as of soul, he reached Yvonnet without accident, and was at last able to place his feet beside those of Martin-Guerre.
"Will you go on or not?" said he to Yvonnet, in sharp and commanding tones.
"I am—dizzy," replied the poor wretch, whose teeth were chattering and his hair standing on end.
"Will you go on?" repeated Gabriel.
"Impossible!" said Yvonnet. "I feel as if my feet and hands were leaving the rounds to which they are clinging. I am going to fall."
"We will see," said Gabriel.
He pulled himself up as far as Yvonnet's waist, and pricked him in the back with the point of his sword.
"Can you feel the point of my sword?" he asked.
"Yes, Monseigneur! Oh, mercy! I am afraid. Mercy!"
"The blade is sharp and keen," continued Gabriel, with marvellous sang-froid. "At the least backward movement on your part it will bury itself in your body. Now listen, Yvonnet; Martin-Guerre will pass in front of you and I shall remain behind. If you do not follow Martin-Guerre,—mark well what I say: if you show one symptom of flinching, I swear by God above that you shall not fall and drag others down with you, for I will nail you to the wall with my sword, and hold you there until they have all passed over your body."
"Oh, mercy, Monseigneur! I will obey!" cried Yvonnet, cured of one fright by a greater one.
"Martin," said Vicomte d'Exmès, "you heard what I said. Pass him and go on."
Martin-Guerre in his turn executed the evolution which he had seen his master perform, and assumed the first place.
"Forward!" said Gabriel.
Martin went bravely up, and Yvonnet, menaced by Gabriel, who carried his sword in his right hand and used only his left to assist his feet in the ascent, forgot his vertigo, and followed the squire.
Thus the fourteen men ascended the last one hundred and fifty rounds of the ladder. "Parbleu!" thought Martin-Guerre, whose good humor came back to him as he saw the space which separated him from the summit of the tower growing ever less. "Parbleu! Monseigneur discovered a sovereign cure for the vertigo."
He had just finished that pleasant reflection, when his head reached the level of the edge of the platform.
"Is it you?" asked a voice unknown to Martin.
"Parbleu!" the squire replied in an unembarrassed tone.
"It is quite time," rejoined the sentinel, "In less than five minutes the patrol will be making their third round."
"Good! we will be ready for them," said Martin-Guerre.
As he spoke he triumphantly placed one knee upon the ledge of stone.
"Ah!" cried the sentinel, suddenly, trying to get a better view of him in the darkness; "what is your name?"
"Why! Martin-Guerre—"
He did not finish what he was saying, for Pierre Peuquoy (it was no other than he) gave him no time to put the other knee beside its fellow, but giving him a violent push with both hands, hurled him headlong into the abyss.
"Holy Jesus!" was all that poor Martin-Guerre said.
Then he fell without a sound, concentrating all his energies in a sublime effort to change the course of his fall so as not to endanger the safety of his companions and his master.
Yvonnet, who followed him, and who recovered all his courage and boldness as soon as he felt the solid rock beneath his feet, leaped upon the platform, followed by Gabriel and all the others.
Pierre Peuquoy made no further opposition. He remained standing as if turned to stone, and unconscious of what was passing.
"Wretch!" cried Gabriel, seizing him by the arm, and shaking him; what insane fury has taken possession of you "What has Martin-Guerre done to you?"
"To me, nothing," replied the armorer in a dull voice. "But to Babette, my sister!"
"Ah, I had forgotten!" cried Gabriel in alarm. "Poor Martin! But it was not he! May he not be saved even yet?"
"Be saved after a fall of more than two hundred and fifty feet upon a rock!" exclaimed Pierre Peuquoy with a harsh laugh. "Come, Monsieur le Vicomte, you would be better employed just now in thinking about taking measures to save yourself and your companions."
"My companions, yes, and my father and Diane," said the young man to himself, recalled by these words to the duties and the risks of his situation; "but still," he continued aloud, "my poor Martin!"
"This is no time to bemoan the villain's fate," Pierre Peuquoy interposed.
"Villain! he was innocent, I tell you, and I will prove it to you. But this is not the time; you are right. Are you still inclined to aid us?" Gabriel asked the armorer, rather bluntly.
"I am devoted to France and to you," replied Pierre. "Very well," said Gabriel. "What remains for us to do now?"
"The night patrol will soon pass," replied the burgher; "we must choke and gag the four men who compose it. But," he added hurriedly, "it is too late to surprise them. Here they are!"
Just as Pierre spoke, the urban patrol actually came out upon the platform by an interior staircase. If they gave the alarm, all might be lost.
Luckily the two Scharfensteins, uncle and nephew, who were of a very inquisitive and prying nature, were prowling around on that side. The men of the patrol had no time to utter a sound. An enormous hand closing the mouth of each one of them from behind, threw them violently upon their backs as well.
Pilletrousse and two others ran to them, and the four bewildered militiamen were easily gagged and disarmed.
"Well done!" said Pierre Peuquoy. "Now, Monseigneur, we must make sure of the other sentinels, and then make a bold descent upon the guard-house. We have two posts to carry. But have no fear of being overborne by numbers. More than half of the city militia, having been influenced by Jean and myself, are for the French cause heart and soul, and only await the proper moment to show their devotion. I will go down first to notify our friends of your success; meanwhile you can look after the sentinels. When I return, my words will already have accomplished three fourths of the task."
"Ah, I would thank you, Peuquoy," said Gabriel, "if Martin-Guerre's death,—and yet from your standpoint you did only what was just."
"Once more, Monsieur d'Exmès, I beg you to leave that to God and my conscience," replied the stern burgher. "I acquit you of blame. Now act your part while I fulfil mine."
Everything happened almost precisely as Pierre had foreseen. The sentinels belonged to the French faction in a large majority of instances. One who undertook to resist was soon bound and rendered incapable of doing any harm. When the armorer returned, accompanied by Jean Peuquoy and a few sure friends, the whole summit of the Risbank fort was already in Vicomte d'Exmès hands.
It remained now to overthrow the corps-de-garde with the reinforcement brought by the Peuquoys. Gabriel did not hesitate to go down at once.
Advantage was skilfully taken of the first moment of surprise and uncertainty.
At that early hour, most of those who remained firm in the cause of England, either by birth or interest, were still asleep in perfect security upon their camp beds. Before they were fairly awake, so to speak, hands were at their throats.
The tumult, for it was not a battle, lasted only a few moments. The friends of Peuquoy shouted, "Vive la France! Vive Henri II.!" The non-combatants, and those who were indifferent, lost no time in arraying themselves, as they always do, under the successful banner. Those who made a show of resistance were soon compelled to yield to superior numbers. There were, in all, only two men killed and five wounded, and only three shots were fired. The devout Lactance was unfortunate enough to have two of the wounded and one of the slain to his credit. Luckily he had time to spare!
It was not six o'clock when every part of the Risbank fort was in the power of the French. The disaffected and the suspected were securely confined, and all the rest of the city guard surrounded Gabriel and hailed him as a liberator.
Thus was carried, almost without a blow, and in less than an hour, by an extraordinary and superhuman achievement, this fort which the English had never dreamed of fortifying, because the sea alone seemed to be such an impregnable defence to it,—a fort, which was nevertheless the key to the harbor of Calais, yes, to Calais itself.
The whole transaction was accomplished so quickly and quietly that the entire fort was taken, and new sentinels stationed by Gabriel, and a new countersign given out, before anything of it was known in the city.
"However, so long as Calais itself has not surrendered," said Pierre Peuquoy to Gabriel, "I do not consider that our task is done. So, Monsieur d'Exmès. I am of opinion that you had best keep Jean and half of our men here to make good the fort, and leave me and the other half to go into the city. We may do the French better service there than here, in case of need, by some useful diversion. After Jean's ropes, it will be well to make use of Pierre's arms."
"Are you not afraid," said Gabriel, "that Lord Wentworth, in his rage, may do you an ill turn?"
"Never fear," replied Pierre; "I will resort to a little artifice, which will be justifiable warfare with those who have been our oppressors for two centuries. If necessary, I will accuse Jean of having betrayed us. We were surprised by a superior force, and compelled, in spite of our resistance, to surrender at discretion. Those of us who refused to recognize your victory were driven out of the fort. Lord Wentworth's affairs are at so serious a pass that he must at least pretend to believe us, and be grateful to us."
"So be it! Go down into Calais," rejoined Gabriel, "for I see that you are as clever as you are brave. And it is certain that you can assist me, if I should decide to make a sortie."
"Oh, don't risk that, I beg you!" said Pierre, "you are not in sufficient numbers, and you have little to gain and everything to lose by a sortie. Here in your tower, behind these good walls, you occupy an impregnable position. Pray remain here. If you take the offensive, Lord Wentworth may very possibly retake the fort; and after having accomplished so much it would be a great shame to lose its manifest advantages."
"But do you propose," rejoined Gabriel, "that I should remain idle here with my sword in its scabbard while Monsieur de Guise and all our troops are fighting and risking their lives?"
"Their lives are their own, Monseigneur, but the Risbank fort belongs to France," replied the prudent burgher. "But listen; when I consider that the favorable moment has arrived, and that only one last decisive blow is needed to tear Calais from the hands of the English, I will cause those whom I have with me, and all the inhabitants who share my opinions, to rise as one man. Then, when everything is ripe for victory, you may make a sortie, to give the finishing blow and open the city to the Duc de Guise."
"But who will let me know when I may venture?" asked Gabriel.
"Give me the horn which I presented to you," said Pierre, "whose note served to make your coming known to me. When you hear its sound once more, go forth without fear, and share in the triumph you have so nobly prepared."
Gabriel thanked Pierre heartily, helped him select the men who were to go with him into the city to assist the French troops in case of need, and graciously accompanied them as far as the gate of the fort, out of which they were to pretend they had been driven in disgrace.
By the time this was done it was half past seven, and the first streaks of dawn were visible in the sky.
Gabriel desired to make sure personally that the French standards which were to bring peace to the mind of Monsieur de Guise and strike terror to the English men-of-war were hoisted over the fort. Consequently he ascended to the platform which had been the scene of the main events of that glorious but fateful morning.
With pallid cheeks he drew near the spot at which the rope ladder had been attached, and whence poor Martin-Guerre had been hurled, the victim of a fatal mistake.
Shudderingly he leaned over the abyss, expecting to see the mutilated corpse of his faithful squire on the rocks below.
At first he failed to espy him, and his eye glanced hither and thither in surprise, mingled with a faint hope.
A leaden spout, by which the rain-water from the tower was carried off, had stopped the body midway in its terrible fall; and there Gabriel saw it hanging, motionless and doubled up over the spout.
At first sight he thought that life was extinct, but he desired to pay the last tokens of respect in any event.
Pilletrousse, whom Martin-Guerre had always been fond of, was looking on weeping, and his devotion to his friend seconded his master's pious reflections. He fastened himself securely to the rope ladder, and ventured down into the abyss.
When he reascended, bringing with him, after much labor, the body of his friend, they saw that Martin was still breathing.
A surgeon who was at hand announced that life was not extinct; in fact, Martin regained consciousness to some extent.
But he came back to greater suffering, for he was in a sad plight. He had a broken arm and a crushed thigh.
The surgeon could set the arm without difficulty, but he judged it necessary to amputate the leg, and did not dare to undertake so difficult an operation alone.
More than ever Gabriel deplored that though a victor, he was confined to the Risbank fort. The delay, which had been trying enough before, now became almost intolerable.
If only he could get word to expert Ambroise Paré, Martin-Guerre might be saved.