Saint Bartholomew's Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars, G. A. Henty [most read books txt] 📗

that they were as good looking a lot of horses as you would often see together. No doubt, at first, their leaders were so furious that they thought of nothing but mending the leathers and getting off; but when they get a check, in the wood, it is probable that someone will venture to tell them how well we are mounted, and that pursuit will be hopeless."

"Nevertheless, I think they will pursue, Monsieur Philip," Pierre said. "They did not look like men who would swallow an injury, and think no more of it. As long as there remains a single chance of discovering you, they will not give up pursuit. Of course, they have no reason for suspicion that you are anything but what you seem to be, a gentleman of the neighbourhood; and will consider that, at one or other of the towns or villages ahead of us, they are sure to hear of our passing through, and perhaps to learn who you are and where you reside. Doubtless they asked at the inn, before starting, whether you were known; and as soon as they find they are not likely to catch us by hard riding, they will make straight forward, dividing into several parties at the next place they come to, and scattering in order to obtain news of us."

"Which they will not get," Philip said, "as we will take good care to avoid passing through villages. For tonight we will sleep in the woods, as the weather is warm and pleasant."

After riding another fifteen miles, they halted in a wood. They always carried some food and wine with them, as circumstances might at any time arise that would render it imprudent for them to put up at an inn; and each also carried a feed of corn for his horse.

Leaving Pierre to unsaddle and rub down his horse, Philip walked to the farther edge of the wood, to view the country beyond. They were, he knew, not far from La Chatre; and he was not surprised to see the town, lying in a valley, to which the ground sloped down from the wood. It was about a mile and a half distant. Nearer the wood, but half a mile to the west, the towers of a fortified chateau rose from a clump of trees. The country was rich and well cultivated, and everything had an aspect of peace and comfort.

"What a hideous thing it is," Philip said to himself, "that in so fair a country people cannot live in peace together; and should fly at each other's throats, simply because they cannot agree that each shall worship God after his own fashion! It might be Canterbury, with the hills rising round it and the little river, save that it lacks the cathedral rising over it; and yet, I doubt not there are many there who live in daily peril of their lives, for there is not a town in France that has not its share of Huguenots, and they can never tell when the storm of popular fury may burst upon them."

The shades of evening were beginning to fall, when he rejoined his companions. They had already rubbed down their horses and replaced the saddles, and the animals were contentedly eating their corn.

"They look well," Philip said, as he walked from one to the other.

"Yes, sir, they are none the worse for their travel so far, and could carry us on a hard race for our lives. Shall we light a fire?"

"I do not think it is worth while, Eustace. The evening is warm, and we shall be off at daybreak. Someone passing through the wood might see the flames, and carry the news down to La Chatre, which is but a mile and a half away; and it is quite possible that those fellows we had to do with today may be there, if they are travelling the same way that we are, and may consider it likely we shall halt there for the night. At any rate, as we do not need the fire, we will run no risks."

They ate their supper and, an hour later, wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay down. Philip was just dropping off to sleep, when Pierre touched him. He sat up with a start.

"There are some people in the wood," Pierre said.

Philip was wide awake now, and the sound of singing, at no great distance, came to his ears.

"It is a Huguenot hymn," he exclaimed. "There must be a meeting in the wood. No doubt it is some of the people from the town, who have come out to hold a secret meeting here. I will go and see it.

"Come with me, Pierre. We will go very quietly, for it would scare them terribly, did they hear anyone approaching."

Making their way noiselessly through the wood they came, after walking about three hundred yards, to the edge of an open space among the trees, where they halted. In the centre they could see, in the moonlight, a body of some seventy or eighty people gathered. Standing upon the trunk of a fallen tree was a minister who was addressing them.

"My brethren," he was saying, when they could catch his words, "this is the last time we shall meet here. We know that suspicions have already arisen that we are holding meetings, and that we do so at the peril of our lives. The search for me has been hot, for some days; and though I am willing enough to give my life in the cause of our Lord, I would not bring destruction upon you, at the present moment. Were the prospects hopeless, I should say, 'let us continue together here, till the last;' but the sky is clearing, and it may be that, ere long, freedom of worship may be proclaimed throughout France. Therefore it is better that, for a time, we should abstain from gathering ourselves together. Even now, the persecutors may be on our track."

"Pierre," Philip whispered, "do you go over in that direction, until you come to the edge of the wood. If you see any signs of men moving about, run quickly to the others, and bring the horses up here."

"I had better go back there first, had I not, Monsieur Philip, and bring the men and horses along with me to the edge of the wood? For I might lose a quarter of an hour in searching for them."

"That would be the best plan, Pierre. Should you hear a sudden noise here, hurry in this direction, and I will come to meet you. It may well be that, guessing the Huguenots would place someone on watch towards the town, the Catholics may, if they come, approach from the other side. Should you see anyone coming, give a loud shout, at once. It will act as a warning to these people, and enable them to scatter and fly, before their foes arrive."

For an hour the preacher continued to address his hearers, exhorting them to stand firm in the faith, and to await with patience the coming of better days. They were not more than twenty paces away from the spot where Philip was standing, and in the moonlight he could clearly see the faces of the assembly, for the preacher was standing with his back to him. From their dress, he judged that most of them belonged to the poorer classes; though three or four were evidently bourgeois of the well-to-do class.

Seated on the trunk on which the preacher was standing, and looking up at him so that her profile was clearly visible to Philip, sat a young girl, whose face struck Philip as of singular beauty. The hood of the cloak in which she was wrapped had fallen back from her head, and her hair looked golden in the moonlight. She was listening with rapt attention. The moonlight glistened on a brooch, which held the cloak together at her throat. A young woman stood by her; and a man, in steel cap and with a sword at his side, stood a pace behind her. Philip judged that she belonged to a rank considerably above that of the rest of the gathering.

When the address had concluded, the preacher began a hymn in which all joined. Just as they began, Philip heard the crack of a stick among the trees. It was not on the side from which Pierre would be coming. He listened attentively, but the singing was so loud that he could hear nothing; except that once a clash, such as would be made by a scabbard or piece of armour striking against a bough, came to his ears.

Suddenly he heard a shout.

"That is Pierre!" he exclaimed to himself, and ran forward into the circle.

There was a cry of alarm, and the singing suddenly stopped.

"I am a friend," he exclaimed. "I have come to warn you of danger. There are men coming in this direction from the town."

"My brethren, we will separate," the minister said calmly. "But first, I will pronounce the benediction."

This he did solemnly, and then said:

"Now, let all make through the wood and, issuing from the other side, return by a circuit to the town.

"Mademoiselle Claire, I will accompany you to the chateau."

At this moment Philip heard horses approaching.

"This way, Pierre," he shouted, and ran to meet them.

Fifty yards away he came upon them, and leapt into his saddle.

"See to your weapons, lads," he said. "I believe there are others in the wood already."

He was within twenty yards of the clearing when he heard a sudden shout of:

"Down with the Huguenot dogs! Kill! Kill!"

He dashed forward, followed by his men. A mob of armed men, headed by two or three horsemen, had burst from the opposite side of the glade and were rushing upon the Huguenots, who had just broken up into small groups.

They stood, as if paralysed, at this sudden attack. No cry or scream broke from the women. Most of these threw themselves upon their knees. A few of the men followed their example, and prepared to die unresistingly. Some sprang away among the trees, and above the din the preacher's voice was heard commencing a Huguenot hymn beginning, "The gates of heaven are opened;" in which, without a moment's hesitation, those who remained around him joined.

In a moment, with savage shouts and yells, their assailants were upon them, smiting and thrusting. With a shout, Philip spurred forward from the other side. He saw at once that, against such numbers, he and his three followers could do nothing; but his rage at this massacre of innocent people--a scene common enough in France, but which he now for the first time witnessed--half maddened him.

One of the horsemen, whom he recognized at once as the man Pierre had knocked down with the plate, rode at the girl Philip had been watching; and who was standing, with upturned face, joining in the hymn. The man attending her drew his sword, and placed himself in the way of the horseman; but the latter cut him down, and raised the sword to strike full at the girl, when Philip shot him through the head.

Instantly another horseman, with a shout of recognition, rode at him. Philip thrust his still smoking pistol in his holster, and drew his sword.

"This is more than I hoped for," his assailant said, as he dealt a sweeping blow at him.

"Do not congratulate yourself too soon," Philip replied, as he guarded the blow and, lunging in return, the point glided off his adversary's armour.

He parried again; and then, with a back-handed sweep, he struck his opponent on the neck with his whole force. Coming out to take part in a Huguenot hunt, in which he expected no opposition, the knight had left his helmet behind him; and fell from his horse, with his head half severed from his body.

In the meantime the two men-at-arms and Pierre had driven back the mob of townsmen; who, however, having massacred most of the unresisting Huguenots, were surging up round them.

"Give me your hand, mademoiselle, and put your foot on mine," Philip exclaimed to the girl, who was still standing close to him.

"Pierre," he shouted as, bewildered by the uproar, the girl instinctively obeyed the order, "take this woman up behind you."

Pierre made his horse plunge, and so freed himself from those attacking him. Then, reining round, he rode to Philip's side, and helped the companion of the young lady to the croup of his saddle; Philip dashing forward, to free his two followers from their numerous assailants.

"To the left, Eustace;" and, cutting their way through the crowd, the three horsemen freed themselves and, as they dashed off, were joined by Pierre.

"We must work back by the way we came, Monsieur Philip," Pierre said. "There is another body coming up in front, to cut off fugitives; and that was why I shouted to you."

In a minute or two they were out of