Without rising from his knees, Fra Herve threw himself back, and examined for a moment the face of Odelin. At length he recognized him, and, a sudden flash of hatred illumining his hollow eyes and an infernal smile curling his livid lips, he cried:

"G.o.d has sent you! I shall spit out the truth into the face of the apostate! Oh, that your father were also here!"

"Respect his memory--our father is dead!"

"Did he die impenitent?"

"He died in his faith!"

"He died d.a.m.ned!" replied Fra Herve with a savage guffaw. "Everlastingly d.a.m.ned! The corruptor of my youth! The heretical leper! The sink of pestilence! d.a.m.ned along with his wife! It was Thy will, Oh, G.o.d! In Thy wrath Thou didst so decree it. The flames of h.e.l.l will be doubly hot to them! Forever and ever will they be face to face with the spectacle of their daughter, d.a.m.ned through their acts, and d.a.m.ned like themselves, writhing in the midst of everlasting fires!"

"Do not take upon your lips the names of our sister, the poor martyr, or of our mother, you wretched fanatic, author of all their sufferings!"

"'Our' mother! 'Our' father! 'Our' sister!" echoed back the monk, with an outburst of sardonic laughter. "Look at the renegate! He dares invoke bonds that are snapped, and are abhorred! Man--I have no father but the vicar of Christ! No mother but the Church! No brothers but faithful Catholics. Outside of that holy family--holy, thrice holy!--I see only savage beasts, bent in their demoniacal rage upon tearing into shreds the sacred body of my holy mother! And I kill them! I throttle them! I immolate them to G.o.d, the avenger! Oh, how I grieve to think that you did not fall, like the likes of you, under my heavy iron crucifix, which the Holy Father blessed! What more beautiful holocaust could I offer to the implacable anger of the Lord, than to say to Him as Abraham did on the mountain: 'Lord! May the vapor of this blood rise to your nostrils.

This blood is twofold expiatory! It is my blood, it is the blood of my family!'"

"Blood! Always blood!" echoed Odelin, shivering with disgust and horror.

"Herve, blood has intoxicated you. Like so many other priests, you are the prey of a savage frenzy. A bloodthirsty dementia has dethroned your reason. I have for you the pity that a furious madman inspires. After a desperate resistance you fell into the power of a corps of Protestant hors.e.m.e.n. My son was among them; he identified you by the mournful celebrity that surrounds your name. His companions were of a mind to kill you on the spot. He obtained from them a postponement of your execution under the pretext that your death would be more exemplary before the a.s.sembled ranks of our soldiers. My son's views prevailed.

You were taken to this place, to this cellar belonging to the priory occupied by Admiral Coligny, who, thanks to G.o.d, escaped this day being poisoned, escaped the latest abominable crime planned against him. You were taken to this cell. My son just notified me of your capture and of his desire to save you. I share his wishes--seeing that, unfortunately, we are both children of one father. But for that I would have left you to your fate. Your religion commands you to kill me; mine commands me to save you. I shall untie your hands; you shall throw this mantle over your shoulders and lower the hood over your head. My son is the only watchman. He offered to the sentinel placed on guard over you to take his place. The offer was accepted. We shall leave this cell together.

The Rochelois mantle will conceal your frock and remove suspicion. You will follow me. I am known to all the people and soldiers whom we may meet in crossing the courtyard of the Admiral's house. I hope to secure your flight with the aid of this disguise. That duty, a sacred one to me, I fulfil in the name of our parents who are no more--in the name of those cherished beings who loved us so dearly."

"Oh, G.o.d, the Avenger!" exclaimed Herve with savage exaltation. "Ever does Thy anger strike Thy enemies with blindness! Themselves they break the chains of their immolators! Themselves they deliver themselves defenseless into the hands of their implacable enemies!"

And stretching out his fettered hands to his brother, the monk added:

"Oh, thou vile instrument of the King of Kings! Free these hands from their bonds! There is still work for them to do in cropping the b.l.o.o.d.y field of heresy! There are still supporters of Satan for these hands to exterminate!"

Calm and sad, Odelin loosed the fetters from Fra Herve's hands. Hardly did the monk regain the free use of his arms than, darting a tiger's look at his brother, he took two steps back, seized the heavy string of leaden b.a.l.l.s that hung from his girdle, swung it like a sling, and, before his liberator, who stood stupefied at the brusque a.s.sault, had time to protect himself, smote him several times on the head with the heavy chaplet. Although considerably deadened by Odelin's casque, the violent blows staggered the armorer. For a moment he seemed to reel on his feet, but instantly recovering himself, he drew his sword at the very moment that Fra Herve returned to the charge. Odelin parried the blows, and, cutting with a back-stroke the string that held the b.a.l.l.s, caused them to slip off and roll down at the feet of the monk. Odelin immediately threw his sword aside, but carried away with rage and indignation, he dashed upon his brother, seized him by the throat, threw him to the ground and pinned him down with his knees upon his chest. In this struggle, Fra Herve, weakened by his wound, had the disadvantage.

He furiously bit Odelin's hand. The pain drew a piercing cry from Odelin. The noise was heard by Antonicq, who stood on guard at the outside of the door. The young man rushed in and saw his father at close quarters with the monk, who, in his rage, kept his teeth in Odelin's flesh and sought, after having penetrated to the bone, to crush his brother's thumb between his teeth. Exasperated at the sight, Antonicq picked up his father's sword and dealing with the handle of the weapon a crushing blow upon Fra Herve's cheek, knocked in several of his teeth and compelled him to release his prey. Odelin rose. Panting with fury and exhausted by the violence of the struggle, the Cordelier sank upon his knees; tore off the bandage from his head, thereby leaving a deep, gaping wound exposed; and trembling with silent, savage rage, sought to staunch the blood that poured in streams out of his mouth.

"My son, look at that monk," observed Odelin to Antonicq with a broken voice. "There was a time when that man was full of tenderness and respect for my father and mother. He cherished my sister and me. Brought up like myself in the practice of justice, and gifted with exceptional intelligence, he was the joy, the pride, the hope of our family. Look at him now; shudder; there you see him the handiwork of the infamous clergy of the papacy!"

"Oh, it is horrible!" exclaimed Antonicq, hiding his face in his hands.

And, suddenly startled by the sound of a distant tumult that reached the depth of the cell across the profound silence of the night, the young man listened for a moment and said: "Father, do you hear that noise? The troops are on the march. The cavalry is moving."

"Yes," answered Odelin, listening in turn. "The Admiral must have decided to surprise the royalist army before daybreak. The forces will be shortly on the march. You remain on guard at the door of the cellar.

This prisoner is the object of so much hatred that they are likely to come for him any moment, to put him to death before we deliver battle.

His cell will be found empty. You will answer that the man was my brother and that I wished him to escape punishment. Before mounting your horse, come for me at my lodging. We left your poor sister there. Our sudden departure must have seemed strange to her, and may have caused her anxiety. In my confusion I never thought of giving her a word of comfort. Let us make haste."

And throwing his Rochelois cloak to Fra Herve, Odelin continued:

"If you care to escape death, put that cloak on and come. Towards you, and despite yourself, I shall act as a brother."

"And I will pursue you with revengeful hatred, apostate!" answered the monk with implacable resentment, rising to his feet and donning the cloak. "The Lord delivers me through your hand. He has His purpose. I shall be the exterminator of your heretical kin! March--lead my way out--save me! G.o.d orders it--obey!"

Thanks to the disguise of Fra Herve, who was wrapped in a Rochelois cloak like a large number of Protestant volunteers, Odelin succeeded in aiding him to escape from the grounds of the priory where he was a prisoner. The two thereupon crossed the streets of St. Yrieix, these being crowded with soldiers hastening in silence to their several posts.

Intending to surprise the enemy in the morning by a forced night march, the Admiral ordered the a.s.sembly of the forces to be done without beat of drum. Odelin and Fra Herve saw not far from them the Franc-Taupin and the Avengers of Israel as they crossed the road on their way to the prison of the Cordelier whom they were to execute. A few minutes later, led by his brother to the furthest end of the camp, Fra Herve vanished in the dark, taking long strides, and hurling threats of vengeance and anathema at his liberator.

Odelin hastened to return to his own lodging in order to comfort his daughter and embrace her before going to battle. Anna Bell had vanished.

The room was empty. There was a letter left by her upon the armorer's anvil.

CHAPTER VI.

THE BATTLE OF ROCHE-LA-BELLE.

The Protestant army, about twenty-five thousand strong, marched out of St. Yrieix in profound silence at about one o'clock in the morning. The black and sinuous line of battalions and squadrons was hardly distinguishable from the surrounding darkness of the night, lighted only by the scintillations of the stars. The column followed the winding of the whitish road which was lost to sight in the distant horizon in the direction towards Roche-la-Belle, the royalist encampment. The measured step of the foot soldiers, the sonorous tramp of the cavalry, the clinking of the armors, the jolting and rumbling of artillery wheels--all these noises merged into one m.u.f.fled and solemn sound.

Scouts, alert with eye and ear, and pistol in hand, preceded the vanguard. At the head of the vanguard rode Admiral Coligny, with two young men, one on either side--Henry of Bearn, the son of the brave Joan of Albert, Queen of Navarre, and Conde, a son of the Prince of Conde, whom Montesquiou a.s.sa.s.sinated. Other Protestant leaders, among them Lanoue and Saragosse, followed in the Admiral's suite. On that morning the Admiral rode a superb silver-grey Turkish horse that was wounded under him at Jarnac, and which he preferred to all other mounts. A light iron mail covered the neck, chest and crupper of the spirited steed.

Coligny himself wore his habitual armor of polished iron devoid of ornament. His strong high boots reached up as far as his cuisses. His floating white and wire-sleeved cloak allowed his cuira.s.s to be seen.

His old battle sword hung from his belt. The b.u.t.ts of his long pistols peeped from under his saddle-bow. He rode bowed down by years, sorrows and the trials of so many campaigns. His venerable head seemed to bend under the weight of his casque. He guided his horse with his left hand.

His right, gloved, reclined upon his cuisse. Suddenly he straightened up in the saddle, reined in his horse, and said in a grave voice:

"Halt, messieurs!"

The order was repeated from rank to rank back to the rearmost of the rear guard. One of the volunteers, who served as aide-de-camp to the Admiral, rode forward at a gallop to carry to the scouts the order to stop. An almost imperceptible shimmer began to whiten the horizon and announced the approach of dawn. A tepid breeze rose from the west, and became strong enough to chase the few clouds before it. These grew denser; at first they veiled the stars; soon they seemed to invade the whole firmament. Coligny attentively examined the aspect of the skies, communicated his opinion to his escort, and said to his lieutenants:

"A west wind, rising at dawn, generally presages a rainy day. Messieurs, we shall have to push the attack in lively style before the rain comes down upon us, otherwise the fire of our infantry will be almost useless."

And addressing Lanoue:

"My friend, the chiefs of divisions have my orders; let them be drawn up for battle."

Lanoue and several other officers rode off to execute the instructions of the Admiral. At this spot the road crossed a vast plateau more than a league wide, upon which the Protestant army deployed its lines and took up its positions. Coligny had Lanoue and John of Soubise for his lieutenants. Prince Louis of Na.s.sau commanded the right wing; La Rochefoucauld the center, with Henry of Bearn, Conde, the Prince of Orange, Wolfgang of Mansfeld and the Prince of Gerolstein under his orders; finally, the left was in charge of Saragosse. Colonels Piles and Baudine covered the right wing with their regiments; Colonels Rouvray and Pouilly the left. The lancers and the artillery were distributed along the two wings, while a strong cavalry force, consisting of twenty squadrons, held itself in reserve, ready to ride into action supported by several regiments of infantry.

In the measure that the light of dawn rendered the distant horizon more distinct, the belfry of the church of Roche-la-Belle, the fortified town occupied by the royalists, and lying about half a league away, could be discerned from the highest point of the plateau where the Protestant forces were deploying their lines. A black line along the dawn that dimly lighted the horizon marked the royalist entrenchments.

Soon as the army was drawn up in battle formation, Coligny said to Antonicq, one of the volunteers who served as aide-de-camp:

"Monsieur Lebrenn, convey to Colonel Plouernel my orders to push forward with his regiment and six companies of auxiliaries. Recommend to him above all to execute his march in the profoundest silence possible, without either beat of drums or blare of trumpets. The enemy must be taken by surprise. The colonel is to seize the lake road, which is strongly defended. When that post is carried, return and notify me."

Antonicq left at a gallop for the extreme right wing, the post of Colonel Plouernel, the younger brother of Count Neroweg of Plouernel, who commanded the escort of Queen Catherine De Medici the day of her arrival at the Abbey of St. Severin. The religious feuds threw the two brothers into opposite camps--a not infrequent occurrence in those unhappy days. In the course of the civil wars, the colonel, like so many other Protestants, sought refuge in the city of La Roch.e.l.le. Odelin thanks to the family archives left to him by his father Christian, knew that the printer had met and was greatly gratified by the courtesy of Colonel Plouernel on the occasion of one of the first councils held by the reformers in the quarry of Montmartre, when he was known as the Knight of Plouernel. One day, at La Roch.e.l.le, Odelin saw the knight, who had become a colonel in the Huguenot army, enter his smithy. He came to purchase arms, and noticing on the shield of the shop the name of Lebrenn, inquired from the armorer whether any relationship existed between him and the artisan once employed in the printing establishment of Robert Estienne. Odelin answered that he was a son of the artisan, and, agreeably impressed by the cordiality with which the colonel spoke of his father, entered into friendly relations with the n.o.bleman, finding a singular charm in an acquaintance with one of the descendants of that old Frankish family whose path the sons of Joel had so often crossed, arms in hand, across the ages. In short, prizing more and more the n.o.ble character, the generous heart and the artless manners of Colonel Plouernel, a man free from all taint of family haughtiness and imbued, as much as any, with the democratic principles of the Reformation, Odelin informed the scion of the ancient house of Plouernel of the accidental circ.u.mstance concerning the hereditary feud between the two families both before and since the conquest of Clovis, and communicated to him the pa.s.sages of the domestic chronicles touching upon those historic facts. By little and little an intimate friendship sprang up between Odelin and Colonel Plouernel. The latter, having married during one of the truces of the civil war a young lady of Vannes, from whom he had two little boys, was forced to seek refuge in La Roch.e.l.le with them and his wife when at last war broke out anew. He hired a few vacant rooms from Odelin, being anxious to leave Madam Plouernel with a family the virtues of which he appreciated. For Antonicq, Odelin's son, he felt an almost paternal affection, there being many years' difference between their ages. Being, thanks to his bravery, his reputation, his military talents, and his experience in the field, greatly esteemed among the Protestants, Colonel Plouernel commanded in this campaign a regiment composed almost exclusively of Bretons. His soldiers, however, although brave and zealous, were, like all other volunteers, unfortunately p.r.o.ne to disregard discipline; being, moreover, but ill broken to the pursuit of arms, they often failed to appreciate the authority of skilful and prudent tactics, preferring to listen to their own blind intrepidity. The Breton regiment, together with the company of auxiliaries, numbered about three thousand men. They stood drawn up for battle at the furthest extremity of the right wing, when Antonicq, the carrier of the Admiral's orders, arrived at a gallop before their front ranks. Some, being field laborers, wore the ancient loose Gallic blouse, with hose fastened around the waist by a belt, and woolen bonnets on their heads; others, being either artisans or bourgeois from the cities, wore wide hose, jackets laced in front in the Burgundian style, or brigandines, or coats of mail or other defensive equipments, according to their several tastes. The men's headgear also offered a varied aspect: casques, morions, ba.s.sinets, slouch hats, bonnets ribbed with two iron hoops.

Neither were the offensive arms more uniform--lances, pikes, halberds, antique swords, cross-bows, iron maces, cutla.s.ses, hunting arquebuses, field arquebuses, and pistols all being visible. Several wood-cutters and their helpers were armed with hatchets, and some had scythes with the edge turned out. The only uniform, or article common to all, was a belt or shoulder sash of white material. These men, although presenting a rather unmilitary appearance, displayed spirit and ardor. More than once did it happen that the fury of their onslaught overthrew the best royal troops, both infantry and cavalry, despite the latter's long military training and discipline.

Armed like a German rider, with black casque, black cuira.s.s and white cloak, Colonel Plouernel bestrode a powerful Breton bay mare, caparisoned in scarlet. When Antonicq approached him he was in conversation with several officers of his regiment. Among these was the Pastor Feron, a man gifted with exceptional energy, and of austere and resolute mien. Often did he, like so many other ministers of the Reformed religion, march to battle at the head of a troop, singing psalms like the old bards of Gaul who marched in advance of the warriors singing their heroic chants. More than once wounded, the clergyman Feron inspired the Protestants with as much confidence as veneration. Antonicq transmitted the orders of Admiral Coligny to Colonel Plouernel. The latter immediately faced his troops and said to the captains who surrounded him:

"The Admiral does us the honor of entrusting to us the lead in the attack. We shall prove ourselves worthy of the distinction. We are to take the royal army by surprise. It will soon be day, but the slope of this hill, along the foot of which runs the road that we are to follow, will hide us from the enemy's pickets. We shall be able to reach the edge of the lake without being seen. Foreseeing the attack with which we are charged, I have just commissioned the Franc-Taupin to proceed with a picked body of determined men of his own corps and sound for a ford across the lake. Return to your companies. Order the drummers and trumpeters to remain quiet, and all your men to observe scrupulous silence."

"Brothers," remonstrated Pastor Feron with elation, "why conceal our approach from the Philistines? Does not the Lord lead the children of Israel? Let us place our reliance on Him only, and the proud towers of Zion will crumble before the breath of the Eternal. Let us march to the attack, not like timid and slinking thieves, but openly, bravely, like true soldiers of G.o.d! It was under the open sky that David vanquished Goliath!"

"Yes, yes. No underhanded tactics!" cried several officers. "Let us march straight upon the enemy, singing praises to the Lord. He is with us. We shall vanquish."

"My friends," said Colonel Plouernel, "follow my advice. Let us proceed with caution. The royal army is much our superior in numbers. We must make up with tactics for our inferiority. Let us arrive noiselessly before the vanguard of the enemy, you will not then lack for opportunity to prove your valor. Place yourselves at the head of your companies, and forward at the double quick, only in the profoundest silence."

The authority enjoyed by Colonel Plouernel, the wisdom of his orders, the confidence of the volunteers in his bravery and military skill once more carried the day over the seething impatience of his captains, although Pastor Feron looked displeased with a manoeuvre in which he imagined he saw a weakness and dissimulation unworthy of the children of Israel. The officers took their posts, and the column advanced in silence, with its right covered by the ridge of a long hill that completely masked it on the side of the enemy's entrenchment. The road that the column followed crossed a wide field covered with wild roses, their petals heavy with the dew of night, and spreading an aromatic odor far and wide. Colonel Plouernel inhaled with delight the early morning fragrance, and addressing Antonicq, who rode beside him, said:

"Oh, my boy! This sweet perfume, these wild smells, remind me of the moors of Brittany. I draw them in with full lungs."