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

De Vignes said. "I was roused half an hour ago by the lights and noise, and came down with De la Riviere, Maurepas, Castellon, and De Vigors, who lodges with me, to see what it was about. As we approached the soldiers, they began to jeer at us in a most insolent manner. Naturally we replied, and threatened to report them to their officers; when the insolent varlets drew and ran at us. Maurepas has, as you see, been wounded by a halbert; and as we five could not give battle to that crowd of soldiers, we ran for it. I shall lay the matter before La Rochefoucauld, and request him to make a complaint to the king. What can we do now, gentlemen?"

"I see not that we can do anything," De Pascal said. "We have heard that these torchlight gatherings are part of a plan for a sham attack on a castle, or something of that sort, for the amusement of the king. Doubtless the soldiers are gathered for that purpose. We cannot arouse La Rochefoucauld, at this hour of the night, that is certain; so I see nothing to do but to go home, and wait till morning."

"You do not think," Philip said, "that there is any possibility of a general attack upon us being intended?"

"What! An attack got up at the Louvre, under the very eyes of the king, who is our firm friend? You are dreaming, Monsieur Fletcher."

"I have one suspicious fact to go upon," Philip said quietly, and then related the discovery of the crosses upon the doors.

The others, however, were absolutely incredulous that any treachery could be intended and, after talking for a short time, longer, they returned to their lodgings.

"What is to be done now, Pierre?"

"I should say we had better search farther, sir. If there is any harm intended, the mob of Paris will be stirring. Let us go down towards the Hotel de Ville; that is always the centre of mischief. If all is quiet there, it may be that this story is correct, and that it is really only a court diversion. But that does not explain why the streets should be lighted up near the Admiral's."

"It does not, Pierre."

After they had passed another group of men with torches, Pierre said:

"Did you notice, sir, that each of those men had a piece of white stuff bound round his arm, and that it was the same with those we passed before? If there is any mischief intended, we should be more likely to learn what it is if we were to put on the same badge."

"The idea is a good one, Pierre;" and Philip took out his handkerchief, tore it in two and, handing half of it to Pierre, fastened the other round his arm.

As they went along, they met men with torches or lanterns, moving in the same direction as themselves. All wore white handkerchiefs or scarves round their arms.

Philip became more and more anxious as they went on, and regretted that he had not returned to his lodgings and renewed his watch there. However, a few minutes' walking took them to the Hotel de Ville. The square in front of the building was faintly illuminated by a few torches, here and there, and by large cressets that blazed in front of the Hotel. The light, however, was sufficient to show a dense body of men drawn up in the square, and the ruddy light of the flames flashed from helmet, lance point, and axe.

"What think you now, Monsieur Philip? There must be eight or ten thousand men here. I should say all the city bands, under their captains."

As they paused, a citizen officer came up to them.

"All is ready, your excellency. I do not think that a man is absent from his post. The orders remain unchanged, I suppose?"

"Quite unchanged," Philip said briefly, seeing that in the faint light he was mistaken for someone else.

"And the bell is to be the signal for beginning?"

"I believe there has been a change in that respect," Philip said; "but you will hear that later on. I am only here to see that all is in readiness."

"Everything has been done as ordered, your excellency. The gates are closed, and will not be opened except to one bearing special orders, under the king's own seal. The boats have all been removed from the wharves. There will be no escape."

Philip repressed a strong impulse to run the man through the body, and only said:

"Good. Your zeal will not be forgotten."

Then he turned and walked away. They had gone but a few paces when, in the distance, the report of a pistol was heard.

"Too late!" he exclaimed, in passionate regret.

"Come, Pierre," and he broke into a rapid run.

Several times groups of men came out from bye-streets at the sound of the rapid footsteps, but Philip exclaimed:

"Away there! I am on urgent business for Anjou and Guise."

The men fell back at once, in each case, not doubting from the badges on the arms, which they could make out in the darkness, that Philip was bearing some important order.

"To the Admiral's, first," he said to Pierre. "It is there they will surely begin."

But as they entered the Rue de Bethisy, he saw a number of men pouring out from the Admiral's house, with drawn swords and waving their torches over their heads. By the light, Philip could make out Henri of Guise and Henry of Valois, with their attendants and soldiers.

"We are too late here, Pierre. The Admiral has doubtless been murdered. His confidence in the king's word has undone him."

Coligny, indeed, had refused the offer of many Protestant gentlemen to spend the night in the house; and even Teligny, his son-in-law, had gone to his own lodgings a short distance away. He had with him only his chaplain Merlin, the king's surgeon, three gentlemen and four or five servants; while in the court below were five of the King of Navarre's Swiss guards.

The Admiral had been awakened by the increasing noise without, but entertained no alarm whatever. Suddenly a loud knocking was heard at the outer gate, and a demand for entrance, in the king's name.

The Admiral directed one of the gentlemen, named Le Bonne, to go down and unbar the gate. As he did so, Cosseins, an officer of Anjou's household rushed in, followed by fifty soldiers, and stabbed Le Bonne to the heart. The soldiers had been despatched by the king, himself, under pretence of guarding the Huguenots; and twelve hundred arquebusiers had also been posted, under the same pretext, in the neighbourhood.

The faithful Swiss defended the inner door and, when driven back, defended for a time a barricade hastily thrown up on the stairs. One of the Huguenot gentlemen rushed into the Admiral's room, with the news that the gate had been forced. The Admiral calmly replied:

"I have kept myself for a long time in readiness for death. Save yourselves, if you can. It would be hopeless for you to attempt to save my life."

In obedience to his orders, all who were with him, save a German interpreter, fled to the roof and made their escape in the darkness. The barricade was carried, and a German named Besme, a follower of the Duke of Guise, was the first to rush into the Admiral's room. Coligny was calmly seated in a chair, and Besme struck him two blows with his sword, while those following despatched him.

Guise was waiting in the courtyard below. When he heard that the Admiral was killed, he ordered the body to be thrown out of the window. When he recognized that it was indeed the body of the Admiral, he gave it a brutal kick, while one of his followers cut off the head; and then Guise called upon the soldiers to follow him, saying:

"We have begun well. Let us now see to the others, for so the king commands."

As Philip turned from the spot, the bell of the church of Saint Germain l'Auxerrois peeled forth, and shouts instantly rose from all quarters. As he reached the street in which he lodged, Philip saw that it was already half full of armed men, who were shouting "Death to the Huguenots!" and were hammering at many of the doors.

He fell at once into a walk, and made his way through them unmolested, the white badge on his arm seeming to guarantee that he was a friend. He passed his own door, and made for that of the Count de Valecourt. A combat was going on in front of it and, by the light of the torches, Philip saw De Pascal defending himself bravely against a host of enemies. Sword in hand, Philip sprang forward. But before he could make his way through the soldiers, a musket shot rang out, and De Pascal fell dead.

Philip drew back.

"To our own house, Pierre," he exclaimed to his lackey, who was keeping close behind him; "we can do nothing here, and the door may resist for a few minutes."

There was no one in front of the entrance, though at all the doors marked with a white cross the soldiers were hammering with the butts of their arquebuses. They slipped in, pushed the bars across, ran upstairs and made their way on to the roof, and climbed along it until they reached the window of the house in which De Valecourt lodged; felt their way across the room till they discovered the door, issued out and, as soon as they found the staircase, ran down.

Already there was a turmoil below. A light streamed out from a door of the count's apartments on the first floor. Philip ran in. Claire de Valecourt was standing with one hand resting on the table, deadly pale, but quiet. She was fully dressed.

"Where is your father?" Philip exclaimed.

"He has gone down with the servants to hold the stairs."

"I will join him," Philip said. "Pierre will take care of you. He knows what to do. We will follow you. Quick, for your own sake and your father's."

"I cannot go and leave him."

"You will do him no good by staying, and delay may cost us all our lives. You must go at once. If you do not, at the risk of your displeasure, I must carry you."

"I will go," she said. "You saved me before, and I trust you."

"Trust Pierre as you would trust me," he said.

"Now, Pierre, take her hand and hurry her upstairs."

The clash of swords, mingled with shouts and oaths, were heard below; and Philip, as he saw Pierre turn with Claire de Valecourt, ran down. On the next landing the count, with four serving men, was defending himself against the assault of a crowd of armed men, who were pushing up the staircase. Others behind them held torches, while some of those engaged in the fray held a torch in one hand, and a sword in the other.

"Ah, is it you, Monsieur Fletcher?" the count said, as Philip placed himself beside him, felling one of the foremost of the assailants, as he did so, with a sweeping blow.

"It is I, count. My house is not attacked, and I have sent off your daughter, in charge of my man, to gain it along the roofs. We will follow them, as soon as we can beat back these villains."

"The king's troops must arrive shortly," the count said.

"The king's troops are here," Philip said. "This is done by his orders, and all Paris is in arms. The Admiral has already been murdered."

The count gave a cry of fury, and threw himself upon his assailants. His companions did the same and, step by step, drove them backward down the stairs.

There was a cry below of "Shoot them down!" and, a moment later, three or four arquebuses flashed out from the hall. The count, without a word, pitched forward among the soldiers; and two of the retainers also fell. Then the crowd surged up again.

Philip fought desperately for a time. Another shot rang out, and he felt a sudden smart across his cheek. He turned and bounded up the stairs, paused a moment at the top, and discharged his two pistols at the leaders of the assailants; pulled to the door of the count's chamber, leaving the corridor in darkness, and then sprang up the stairs. When he reached the door of the unused room by which they had entered, he fastened it behind him, got through the window and closed it after him, and then rapidly made his way along the roofs, until he reached his own. Closing and fastening the casement, he ran down to his room.

Claire was standing there, with Pierre by her side. She gave a low cry as he entered, alone.

"My father!" she exclaimed.

"God has taken him," Philip said, "as He has taken many others tonight. He died painlessly, mademoiselle, by a shot from below."

Claire sank into a chair, and covered her face with