Lord Montagu's Page Part 38

How long he sat he knew not; but his meditations were interrupted by the old servant bringing in fresh wood, with a man from the town below, bearing a tray of provisions.

The former he was glad to have, for the night had grown chilly; but the latter he sent away to Pierrot and Beaupre, bidding them eat and then go to rest, as he wanted nothing more. The old man, after reverent offers of service, put some fresh candles in the sconces and left him, a.s.suring him that he should have had candlesticks,--fine silver flambeaux,--but that they had been taken away.

Edward, left alone, began to pace up and down the room. He looked at the bed, which seemed comfortable enough, and thought of lying down; but he had no inclination to sleep. The chamber was a square room in an angle of the tower, one side looking to the south and the other to the east.

The windows were without blinds or shutters. Edward advanced to one on the southern side, from which there was a view over a considerable part of the camp. The glow which had risen in that direction some hours before had considerably diminished: the watch-fires were dying out; the torches no longer moved about from place to place. He lifted his eyes to the sky, studded with stars, and saw a planet with a pure mild light moving upward untwinkling amongst the more steadfast watchers of the night.

"Can there be any truth," he thought, "in those tales of the astrologers? Can the fate of many men, of many nations, depend upon the course of such a pale, silent orb as that?" And, turning to the table again, he sat down and let his thoughts run on in the new course they had a.s.sumed. Every thing grew more and more silent around. The village clock struck. He did not count its sounds, but he felt it must be near midnight.

Who can tell what it is which, when alone and in silence, at that still spectral hour, seems to chill the warm blood of the heart, and fills the brain with ideas vague, and awful, and sublime,--with fancies gloomy, if not fearful?

Edward sat thoughtfully for nearly half an hour longer. The fire had fallen low, and he rose and threw some more wood upon it; but it would not burn. He then rose and went to the other window, which looked eastward. The moon was just rising, and he could see over a wide extent of country, with the wood which he had pa.s.sed on his way to Fontenay on the left of the picture, then half a mile or so of open sandy ground, then another wood to the right, and farther still, on the same side, but more distant, the spires and towers of some other little town. There was the haziness of moonlight over the whole scene; but the moon, though she was strong enough to cast long shadows from every elevated object, so flooded the whole scene with light that the more distant features were not distinct.

Suddenly Edward raised his hand half open to his brow, and gazed from underneath. He saw something that surprised him. A dark figure issued from the wood; more followed; line after line of black, soldier-like phantoms swept over the sandy ground from the one wood toward the other, disappearing as they entered. But still more followed, horse and foot.

They seemed to be a moving host; but there was something so quiet and gliding in their motions that Edward could hardly believe they were substantial. He opened the window quietly and listened. There was no noise; there was no beat of drum, or sound of fife, or clang of arms, or tramp of marching men. Yet still the line went on, troop after troop and squadron after squadron, in the same silent, stealthy way; and where he stood he could discern no shadows cast by the moon from the pa.s.sing mult.i.tude.

At length he thought that fatigue must have affected his mind or body strangely; and, retiring from the window, he closed it, and lay down to sleep without undressing.

His eyes closed heavily in a few minutes; but, ere an hour was over, he started up and gazed around him, wondering where he was. Then, as remembrance came back, he approached the window again and gazed out. The moon was higher in the heaven, and s.h.i.+ning with great splendor; but the phantom host had disappeared, and nothing was to be seen but the misty landscape and the shadows of the trees.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

There was a loud knocking in the old castle of Rohan Rohan about half-past four o'clock in the morning, and then various other sounds, which seemed to indicate that people had been roused from their beds by some unusual summons. Horses' feet were heard stamping in the court-yard, too, and two or three persons talking below the windows; and Edward rose up, pulled on his boots, and lighted another candle in one of the sconces which was nearly extinguished. In those days people were more matutinal in their habits than in our times; but still half-past four was a somewhat early hour, and Edward had not slept well or long.

He was bathing his face and head, however, in cold water, to waken up his sleepy faculties, when some person knocked at the door of his room.

He bade them come in; and old Matthew, with the inevitable candle in his hand, entered, introducing a young man in military attire, who, having satisfied himself of Edward's name, presented a letter bearing his address.

Edward opened it, and, approaching the light, read the contents:--

"M. de Lude begs to inform Monsieur de Langdale that the cardinal will receive him this morning half an hour before daybreak. The bearer will be his guide to the quarters of his Eminence."

"We have hardly time," said Edward.

"Oh, yes," answered the other, with a smile. "The cardinal sometimes keeps people waiting; and I took the liberty of ordering your people and your horses to be brought forth, wherever they might be."

"Thanks for the precaution," said Edward, looking at his watch, and shrewdly suspecting that the messenger had somewhere dallied on the way.

"It wants now a quarter to five o'clock. I will not detain you a moment, sir." And, catching up his beaver and his cloak, and a few other articles that lay about the room, he descended to the court-yard, taking an opportunity of slipping some money into the hand of the old servant.

Pierrot was already there with two horses, and Jacques Beaupre appeared the instant after, leading the other. No time was lost, and Edward was immediately in the saddle. Three or four troopers followed; and the whole party set out down the steep streets from the castle toward the Pont de Cosse.

Edward asked no questions as to the course in which their ride was directed; and hardly a word pa.s.sed between him and his companion as they trotted rapidly on. The fact was, the young man's mind was full of the coming interview. On some points his determination was formed; but upon others he was doubtful. To tell all that happened at Coiffy he was resolved, and to demand redress; but, turn it in his thoughts as he would, he could fix upon no way beforehand of introducing his proposed visit to Roch.e.l.le, and in the end he was obliged to leave it to chance and circ.u.mstance.

Very little of the country did he see as they rode on, for the moonlight was checkered with cloudy shadows; and faint gleams, and deep shades, and hazy hollows, and brown knolls, were all that caught the eye as the travellers pa.s.sed along.

At length, after several miles' ride, a gleam of light rested for a minute or two upon a little elevation, and on the walls of an old castle, not unlike that of Rohan Rohan; and the young officer by Edward's side pointed forward, saying, "There is Mauze, where his Eminence has pa.s.sed the last four days."

"How far is it?" said Edward.

"About two miles," replied the young man; "but we shall soon be there.

The road is good and even."

The light pa.s.sed away, and Edward caught no other distinct view of the chateau till, about twenty minutes after, they began to ascend the little slope. He then perceived a red and garish glow ascending from amidst some old walls, and in a minute more was in the court-yard, where a number of torches were burning and several men and horses were collected.

"Stay here," said the young officer. "I will go and announce you." And, leaving him there, he entered the chateau.

He had not been gone two minutes, however, when there was a bustle on the steps of the great hall, and some six or seven persons came forth, with a tall, fine-looking man at their head, habited certainly more in military than ecclesiastical costume; for, though he had a loose scarlet robe thrown over his shoulders, there was the gleam of a cuira.s.s underneath, and he bore a heavy sword by his side. Edward pushed his horse forward, seeing at once it was the cardinal; but the great minister was evidently fully occupied. He spoke a few words to one of the little crowd which surrounded him, gave some papers to another, listened for a moment to a third, and then mounted a powerful charger which was held for him at the foot of the steps. His fine but somewhat stern face was full of thought, and the glare of the torches gave it even a look of harshness, which Edward had never remarked there before.

His eye turned upon everybody around, and rested longer perhaps on the face of Edward Langdale than upon that of any other. But he did not seem to recognise him, and probably only remarked him because he remained on horseback while all the rest were on foot.

"Follow!" said Richelieu, and rode away; while a faint tinge of gray began to spread itself through the dark sky, announcing the coming sunrise.

As the party rode on, Edward remarked that Richelieu spoke a few words to those immediately about him; and presently after one of them fell back to his side and asked if his name were Langdale. He answered in the affirmative; and the gentleman then told him to ride up near his Eminence. Edward did so; but the cardinal took no notice, and continued to push on at a quick pace till they reached the top of one of those abrupt little eminences which are scattered over the flatter ground upon the western coast of France. Upon the very summit Richelieu pulled in his horse; and by this time the pale bluish twilight had gained sufficient strength to show the brown moors and yellow sands, and the towers and pinnacles of Roch.e.l.le, with a gleam of the sea beyond. An odor of seaweed also came sweeping up from the northwest, and a saltish taste was felt upon the lips of those who sat there and gazed.

"Edward Langdale!" said Richelieu, after a moment or two; and Edward spurred his horse up to his side.

"You have kept your word in coming back," said the cardinal; "but I did not expect you so soon."

"That was because your Eminence did not know all the circ.u.mstances,"

answered the young man, with that mixture of frankness and respect which is always well pleasing to the great.

Richelieu raised what was then called a perspective gla.s.s--a very feeble sort of telescope--to his eye, and gazed toward Roch.e.l.le, the long lines of which were becoming more distinct every moment. Edward was silent, seeing that the mind of the great minister was fully occupied; and no one spoke a word for nearly ten minutes. Then occurred one of those phenomena by no means uncommon, and easily accounted for in these days, but to which the superst.i.tion of old times lent a significance they do not now possess. Away out to the east the sun began to rise, somewhat pale and sickly in look, and with a whitish glare around him; while in the west, rising over the sea, appeared another sun, exactly of the same aspect and keeping as it ascended the same height in the sky.

"Two suns in the same heaven!" exclaimed Richelieu, with an accent of surprise.

"Yes, your Eminence," replied Edward. "But one is much brighter than the other, and its light will last after the other has gone out."

Richelieu turned suddenly round and gazed in his face with an inquiring look, as if he thought there might be something beneath his words more significant than the words themselves; then, bowing his head with a well-pleased smile, he said, "True, true! one is fading already."

Whether Edward had spoken to his thoughts or not must be always a mystery; but it is certain that minds of great fire and eagerness, even without much fancy, will s.n.a.t.c.h at images supplied by external nature to figure forth without danger thoughts, dreams, purposes in their own hearts which they dare not utter. The parable is always a resource of ambition, and often a resource of love. Certain it is, too, that there were at that time two suns in the sky of France, and that one was already fading into an obscurity becoming darker and more dark till the faint figure of the dying monarch was hardly seen or felt, while the other was destined to go on increasing in splendor and power till it set forever. Here the comparison may be supposed to halt; for some may say that the real sun was fading while the false one was increasing in splendor. But that depends, after all, upon how men appreciate greatness,--whether genius or birth be the real sun.

However that may be, it is certain that Louis XIII. was at all events endowed with military genius; but even in the splendor of that most dazzling--to the eyes of men--of human gifts, his rays were paling before the superior endowments of his minister. Sickness, weariness, disgust, despondency--we know not well what--had already induced him to withdraw from the siege of Roch.e.l.le, and to leave Richelieu to carry on the operations with a force, an energy, a talent, which would have won fame for the most distinguished general or engineer. The cardinal might well, therefore, apply the words of Edward Langdale to himself, feeling them a compliment which, like the misty light of a summer's day, was the more warm because it was in some degree indefinite. Richelieu did not wish to have it otherwise, and, without further words, turned his eyes once more upon the scene before them. A small battery opened its fire upon the walls of the devoted town as they sat there and gazed; but n.o.body could see whether it produced any effect or not. Richelieu, at all events, paid little attention to it, and only murmured to himself, "Waste of saltpetre!" Shortly after, he sent off two gentlemen on horseback with messages written in pencil on small sc.r.a.ps of paper, and then turned to gaze again. Some five minutes after, a man on horseback came back, galloping up from the rear, and gave him some information in a low voice. For a short s.p.a.ce his brow contracted as if with anger; but the emotion lasted evidently only a moment, and the next instant he smiled almost gayly, and he said, aloud, "Well, one may have too many rats in a rat-trap. Monsieur Langdale, come hither."

Edward rode close up, and the cardinal asked, "Do you know any thing of the Duc de Rohan?"

"No, your Eminence," replied Edward; "I have not seen or heard of him for nearly nine months."

"You did not see him last night?" said Richelieu.

"The Duc de Rohan!" exclaimed Edward, in a tone of surprise. "I pa.s.sed all last night, sir, in the Chateau de Fontenay; but the duke certainly was not there, to my knowledge."

"Nevertheless," said Richelieu, in a quiet tone, "he pa.s.sed from right to left of our army in the rear with his whole force: so I understand."

"Now I comprehend what I saw last night," said Edward; and he detailed all he had observed from the window of the chateau.

"It was no phantom," said Richelieu, gravely; "but it is as well. I wonder if there were other people in the town or castle who took men for shadows as well as you. How long are you from Savoy, where I last heard of you?"

"A long time, may it please your Eminence," replied the young Englishman; "but only eleven days from the Chateau of Coiffy,--whence you certainly should have heard of me if they had not debarred me the use of pen and ink and kept me a close prisoner for months."