The Constable De Bourbon
TextIX. CHANTELLE
The indefatigable Warthy departed on his mission. On arriving at Changy his worst suspicions were verified. The sick man and his attendants were no longer there. But instead of pursuing his route towards Lyons, as he had promised, the Constable had turned back towards Moulins.
Despatching a messenger to the king with this information, Warthy rode on to La Palisse, and thence to Varennes, where, it appeared, the Constable had laid aside all disguise, and, abandoning his litter, had mounted a charger, and ridden off with his suite to the Château de la Chantelle, in Auvergne. Disregarding the risk he might incur in following him, Warthy despatched a second messenger to the king, and started in pursuit. He was only a few hours behind the Constable, and being well mounted, hoped to overtake him before he arrived at Chantelle.
Speeding across the wide plain of the Allier, skirted on the east by the mountains of Forez, he soon reached the small town of Saint-Pourçain, where he obtained a fresh horse, and ascertained, at the same time, that the Constable and his attendants were only two or three leagues in advance of him. From Saint-Pourçain he entered the vale of the Sioule, and, pursuing his course by the side of the river, soon found himself among the mountains of Auvergne.
The region he had now gained was highly picturesque, but Warthy noted little of its beauties, being engrossed by the thought of the dangerous errand on which he was bent. But, though fully aware of the risk he incurred, Warthy did not shrink from it.
After tracking the sinuous course of the river through the mountains, whose funnel-shaped cones and rifted sides proclaimed them to be extinct volcanoes, and remarking several ancient strongholds, perched on commanding points, he emerged into a broad plain watered by the Sioule, whose course he had hitherto followed. He now plainly descried the lordly château of Chantelle, about two leagues off situated on a rocky eminence, the base of which was washed by the river. It was a vast and strongly-built fortress, and from its position seemed well capable of standing a siege.
As Warthy’s eye ranged over the intervening district he caught sight of a troop of horsemen, whose arms were glittering in the sunbeams, and entertaining no doubt that the cavalcade consisted of Bourbon and his attendants, he set spurs to his charger and galloped on. But swiftly as he speeded, to overtake the Constable was now impossible, and he was still half a league off, when he beheld the train pass through the outer gates of the castle.
As he approached yet nearer to the fortress, he plainly perceived that it had been put into a state of defence, the ramparts and bastions being armed with ordnance of large size, and the towers with culverins and falconets. Sentinels were pacing to and fro on the battlements, and a guard was stationed on the outer gate. From the summit of the donjon floated Bourbon’s haughty standard, which had been unfurled immediately after his arrival. The din of martial instruments resounded from the outer court of the castle, and when Warthy, after some little delay, obtained admittance, he found the enclosure full of armed men.
Bourbon had not thrown off his riding-cloak, and was Conversing with Tansannes, Saint-Saphorin, and others, in a great hall with a roof supported by rafters of chesnut, and walls adorned with trophies of the chase – huge antlers, skins of bears, wolves, foxes, wild cats, and marmots, with which the adjacent mountains abounded – when the arrival of the king’s messenger was announced.
The Constable ordered him to be at once admitted, and on his appearance, said to him, in a jocular tone, “What! here already, Messire de Warthy! You spur me hard, my friend.”
“Your highness must have better spurs than mine, since you have got here first,” replied Warthy, in the same tone. “I am glad to find you can ride so well. You can now have no reasonable excuse for disobeying the king’s injunctions. I hope you will accompany me to Lyons.”
“A truce to this, sir!” cried Bourbon, changing his manner. “I have come hither to be free from the persecution to which I have been subjected. Unless I have the king’s written promise to restore me my possessions, I will not stir from this castle. If he refuses my just demand, there will be a war in France more dreadful than any the kingdom has yet endured.”
“I grieve to hear your highness threaten rebellion, for I can only so construe your words,” replied Warthy, courageously. “It is not for me to predict what his majesty’s reply will be to your demand, but I fancy it will be conveyed by the Grand-Master and the Marshal de Chabannes, at the head of an overwhelming force.”
“I am of opinion that the king will return a very different answer, sir,” said Bourbon. “He knows he has treated me unjustly, and when he finds I am in a position to obtain redress, he will offer it. But be his decision what it may, I am prepared.”
“I would fain remonstrate with your highness before you take this terrible step,” said Warthy. “Powerful as you are, you cannot resist the king.”
“That remains to be seen, sir. I am resolved to have justice, which has been so long denied me.”
“Then at the hazard of my life I must perform mv duty,” rejoined Warthy, boldly. “I now proclaim to all your followers that if they shall aid you in holding this castle against their sovereign lord and king, to whom, and not to you, they owe fealty and homage, they will be guilty of lèse-majesté, and will be treated as rebels and traitors.”
“Will your highness allow this insolent fellow to brave you thus?” cried Pomperant, furiously. “Order his instant execution.”
Warthy did not blench, though he felt he was in a most critical position.
“Remember, I am sent hither by the king,” he said.
“The king cannot save you!” cried Tansannes.
“No, but he can avenge me,” replied Warthy, resolutely.
“The audacious spy deserves a dog’s death,” cried François du Peloux. “Let him be hanged at once.”
“Or flung from the battlements,” said Saint-Saphorin.
“No,” said Bourbon; “he has given his tongue unwarrantable license, but he has come hither as the king’s messenger, and his person is safe. You must be content to remain here till to-morrow, Messire de Warthy, when you will take a letter from me to the king. The Bishop of Autun, who is here, shall accompany you, in order that he may explain my conduct to his majesty.”
“I must perforce remain as long as your highness chooses,” replied Warthy.
“You ought to thank me for detaining you,” said Bourbon. “You must want rest after your journey. See that all care be taken of him,” he added to an attendant.
Upon this Warthy withdrew.
After inspecting the garrison, Bourbon proceeded to examine the defences of the fortress, to make sure of its capability of resisting a siege. The examination was very carefully conducted, and occupied several hours. At its conclusion, he held a private conference with all his chief adherents, at which it was unanimously agreed that the place was not strong enough to hold out against the powerful army which would infallibly be sent to besiege t by the king.
“If it should fall before I can be reinforced, my cause will be ruined,” said Bourbon; “and the German lanz-knechts enrolled by the Archduke Ferdinand, though already assembled in the Franche-Comté, will not dare to enter France while the king remains at Lyons. For my own part,” he continued, “I am satisfied that his majesty is too much alarmed to quit the kingdom at present, and if he should decide on crossing the Alps, he will assuredly leave behind him an army of six or seven thousand men. The presence of such a force will prevent the contemplated rising, and the nobles of Auvergne, whom I had summoned by the arrière-ban to unite at Roanne, will disperse without striking a blow. What is to be done under these circumstances? Shall we retire to Carlat? Though more inaccessible, that castle is no better able to stand a siege than the fortress we now occupy.”
“To be shut up amid the mountains might be fatal,” remarked Tansannes. “Let us make the best of our way to the Franche-Comté, where your highness can put yourself at the head of the German lanz-knechts.”
“The lanz-knechts are already commanded by two able leaders, the Counts Wilhelm and Felix de Furstenberg,” replied Bourbon. “I will not become a fugitive from my own territories while there is a chance of holding them. A few days will now decide. My letter, which will be conveyed to the king by Warthy, will bring the matter to a crisis. If, as I fear, his majesty should abandon his expedition to Italy, nothing will be left for us but flight.”
Next day, Warthy left the castle, accompanied by the Bishop of Autun. On the farther side of La Palisse they encountered the Marshal de Chabannes and the Grand Master, who were marching at the head of a large force, consisting of light horsemen and fantassins, to seize the Constable. On discovering this force, the bishop contrived to send off a messenger to warn Bourbon.
The bishop himself was arrested, and sent on to Lyons with a guard, under the charge of Warthy.
X. HOW THE BISHOP OF AUTUN AND THE COMTE DE SAINT-VALLIER WERE
ARRESTED
On a plain, outside the fair city of Lyons, was encamped the army destined for the expedition to Italy. In the midst of the camp stood the royal tent. Thither the Bishop of Autun was taken by Warthy. François had just returned from inspecting his troops. His towering figure was sheathed in glittering steel, but he had taken off his plumed helm and given it to a page, at the moment when the bishop was brought in.
After glancing at the Constable’s letter, which was delivered to him by Warthy, François tore it in pieces, exclaiming furiously, “Does the audacious traitor venture to treat me as an equal, and propose terms to me! Foi de gentilhomme! I will lower his pride. Hitherto I have acted too leniently towards him, but now he shall feel my power. I have striven to save him, but since he is insensible to my kindness, and will rush upon his ruin, e’en let him perish!”
“Your majesty forgets that you have driven the Constable to desperation,” said the Bishop of Autun. “Could he have placed faith in your promises, he would be with you now. I implore your majesty to make terms with him, and, by so doing, avoid a most disastrous war.”
“My lord bishop,” said the king, sternly, “I will not hear a word in the traitor’s behalf. He can expect no grace from me, and, by Saint Louis! he shall have none. He thinks himself safe in Chantelle, but I will take it in a week; and if he seeks refuge in the mountains of Auvergne, I will hunt him down like a wild beast. I will proclaim him as a rebel and traitor throughout the realm, and set a price of ten thousand golden crowns upon his head. All who shall harbour him, or assist him or any of His followers, shall be held guilty of treason. And now, my lord bishop, a word with you. You are concerned in this conspiracy, and, if you would obtain grace and restoration to my favour, you will not hesitate to reveal all you know respecting it.”
“I have nothing to reveal, sire,” replied the bishop.
“You are the depositary of the Constable’s secrets, my lord,” remarked François, sternly.
“Whatever his highness may have confided to me under the seal of confession, is sacred, sire,” rejoined the bishop.
“That excuse will not avail you, my lord. You are bound to disclose a conspiracy against your sovereign. By Saint Louis! I will have the truth. All those who are in any way implicated in the plot, or suspected, shall be immediately arrested. One of the chief conspirators is already in my power. I will interrogate him at once. Bring the Comte de Saint-Vallier before me,” he added to Warthy. “You will find him in the adjoining tent, with his daughter, the Comtesse de Maulévrier.”
“Am I to arrest him, sire?” demanded Warthy.
The king replied in the affirmative, and Warthy departed on his errand, returning presently with Saint-Vallier, who was guarded by two halberdiers.
Just as François was about to interrogate the prisoner, Diane de Poitiers rushed into the tent, and threw herself at the king’s feet, exclaiming:
“My father has been unjustly accused, sire. He is no traitor.”
“I trust he may be able to clear himself, madame,” rejoined the king, raising her gently. “But as it will be painful to you to listen to his examination, I must pray you to retire.”
“You have disobeyed my injunctions in coming hither, Diane,” said Saint-Vallier, reproachfully. “Your presence adds to my trouble. Go, I implore you!”
“No, no, I will not leave you,” she rejoined. “I may be able to plead your cause. I can show his majesty that he has not a more loyal subject than yourself – that you are incapable of the crime with which you are charged – and that if there should be a conspiracy headed by the Duke de Bourbon, which I cannot – will not – believe, you have no part in it.”
“Can the Comte dc Saint-Vallier himself give me such assurance, madame?” said the king.
“Undoubtedly, sire,” replied Diane. “Speak, father! You have no share in any plot?”
“I know of no plot,” rejoined Saint-Vallier. “But I am well aware that I have many enemies, who would not hesitate to accuse me falsely. Who charges me with conspiracy against your majesty?” he added to the king.
“I do,” replied Warthy. “I charge you with leaguing with the king’s enemies, and I will bring proof of what I assert.”
“I defy you to do so,” replied Saint-Vallier; “and if the combat be permitted me by his majesty, I will force you, at the point of the sword, to confess that you have accused me falsely.”
“You must establish your innocence by other means than the combat,” rejoined the king. “You have long been Bourbon’s confidential friend and adviser. You have been staying with him at the Château de Moulins. Is it not certain, then, that you must be privy to his designs?”
“Presumption is no proof, sire,” said Saint-Vallier. “If the Constable de Bourbon has any such designs as your majesty attributes to him, he has carefully concealed them from me.”
“You abuse my patience by these idle prevarications,” cried the king, angrily. “By an immediate avowal of your guilt, and by a disclosure of all you know respecting this conspiracy, you might merit my forgiveness.”
“And think you, sire, that if I were leagued in such a plot, I would purchase safety by betraying my associates?” rejoined Saint-Vallier. “No, I would rather perish on the scaffold.”
“Such will be your fate,” said the king, sternly. “But torture shall extort the truth from you.”
“Oh! sire,” exclaimed Diane, again flinging herself at the king’s feet, “do not have recourse to such terrible measures. Spare him the torture! – spare him!”
“Let him confess his guilt, then – let him reveal all he knows regarding the plot,” rejoined François.
“Torture will not force me to speak,” said Saint-Val-lier, resolutely. “I should be unworthy of the name I bear if I could betray iny friends. Cease to intercede for me, Diane,” he added to his daughter.
“Remove the prisoners,” said François to Warthy, “and let them be taken with a strong escort to Paris, and lodged in the Conciergerie, there to be kept till commissioners shall be appointed for their trial by the Parliament.”
“Sire,” said Diane, “I crave your majesty’s permission to attend my unhappy father to Paris. My presence will be some consolation to him.”
“I cannot grant your request, madame,” replied the king, in an inflexible tone. “You must remain here with the Comtesse de Châteaubriand, Take leave of your father, and let him depart.”
Half distracted, Diane flung herself in her father’s arms. While straining her to his breast, Saint-Vallier said, in a low voice:
“Stay not here. Depart instantly for Normandy. Promise me this, and I shall die content.”
“You shall not die, father,” she cried. “I will obtain your pardon. I will not cease to supplicate the king till he yields.”
“I forbid it,” rejoined Saint-Vallier, authoritatively. “Obey me, as you would know peace hereafter.”
Diane made no reply. Overcome by her emotion, she had swooned in his arms.
Female attendants were instantly summoned from the adjoining tent, which was appropriated to the Comtesse de Chateaubriand and her ladies, and Saint-Vallier having committed his daughter to the charge of these women, quitted the tent with the Bishop of Autun and Warthy.
The king’s injunctions were promptly carried into effect. While the two prisoners were despatched with a guard strong enough to prevent, any attempt at rescue, to Paris, and lodged in the Conciergerie, there to await, their trial, officers were sent forth to all the principal towns in the Lyonnois, the Borbonnois, Auvergne, Bourgogne, and Dauphiné, to proclaim by sound of trumpet the Constable de Bourbon a rebel and a traitor, and to offer in the king’s name a reward of ten thousand golden crowns of the sun for his capture. Orders were at the same time issued that all the southern frontiers of the kingdom should be strictly guarded, so as to prevent his flight.
By such means the alarm was spread far and wide with inconceivable rapidity, and it seemed scarcely possible that Bourbon could escape.
Meanwhile, the Grand-Master and the Marshal de Chabannes had marched, without opposition, to Chantelle. There was no necessity to summon the fortress to surrender. The gates were thrown open by Saint-Sa-phorin, who was left in command, on the approach of the assailants. But the Constable and his chief adherents were gone, and, as far as could be ascertained, had taken refuge amid the mountains of Auvergne. The two leaders, therefore, having compelled the garrison to lay down their arms, arrested Saint-Saphorin, took possession of the fortress in the king’s name, and despatched several bodies of men in pursuit of the fugitives.
Warthy was also on Bourbon’s track, having sworn to effect his capture.
XI. MARCELLINE D’HERMENT
Late at night, the messenger despatched by the Bishop of Autun to warn Bourbon of his danger, reached Chantelle, and before dawn the Constable had quitted the fortress, attended by his principal adherents. His escort comprised a hundred well-armed men, to twelve of whom were entrusted the leathern bags containing the treasure.
After traversing a long mountainous defile, remarkable for its grand and savage scenery, he reached Montaigut, where he dismounted, and entering the church, performed Lis devotions, and besought Heaven’s aid in his difficulties.
Leaving Montaigut, he soon became involved in a range of volcanic mountains, and after a long ride through this extraordinary region, he came to the Château Lafayette – an old feudal stronghold, built on a vast lava current, which had issued in bygone ages from the crater of the Puy de Come.
Riding up to its gates, he was heartily welcomed by the châtelain, who hospitably entertained him and his train, cheering them with a liberal supply of the generous wine for which the district is renowned.
Lafayette would fain have persuaded Bourbon to tarry with him, but the Constable declined, alleging that he intended to pass the night at the Château d’Herment.
Again the fugitive’s way led him through mountainous defiles, and night overtook him long before he reached his destination. Harbingers had been sent on to announce his approach, and as he and his followers climbed the steep and dangerous ascent to the fortress, a number of men, carrying blazing pine-wood torches, issued from the gates, and lighted them on their way. At their head was the young châtelain, who greeted Bourbon with profound respect, and placed his castle and all within it at his disposal.
The Seigneur d’Herment was a young man of some two or three-and-twenty – tall, powerfully built, and handsome. He was habited in a green hunting-dress and buff boots, and wore a broad-leaved grey felt hat, ornamented with a white feather, on his head. With him were two large shaggy hounds, which had pulled down many a lordly stag, torn in pieces many a wolf, had engaged more than one bear, and would not have hesitated to attack any other wild animal.
D’Herment dwelt in his lonely castle with his sister Marcelline, whose beauty and courage were the theme of admiration throughout that wild district. Marcelline was nearly five years younger than her brother, whom she strikingly resembled in feature, and even in character. Though her pursuits were masculine, and though her time was passed among horses and hounds, though she could manage a hawk better than her own falconer, though she could tire out the most energetic horseman, though she never missed the mark with arbalest or petronel, there was nothing in Marcelline’s manner unbecoming the gentlest damsel. Her features, it is true, had a resolute expression, not often met with in a maiden of eighteen, her mouth and chin being proudly cut, and her fine nostrils often distended like those of a deer. Her complexion was embrowned by the sun, her eyes large, bright, and blue, and her luxuriant tresses of a lovely auburn. Her attire, though savouring little of court fashion, and boasting few ornaments, became her well, and displayed her tall and symmetrical figure to the greatest advantage. Her black velvet toque was adorned with the plume of an eagle which she herself had shot.
Such was the damsel who greeted Bourbon and his companions as they entered the great hall of the castle. Her remarkable beauty could not fail to strike the young nobles who were now presented to her by her brother, but she seemed insensible to the admiration she excited, and entirely occupied in attending to the Duke de Bourbon, whom she conducted to the upper table. She made no apology for the repast which was set before the Constable and his followers, and, indeed, it needed none, for though the viands were homely they were abundant, and the appetites of the guests, sharpened by their long ride, enabled them to do ample justice to the substantial dishes with which the board was loaded. Moreover, the wine was excellent, and plentifully supplied.
At the close of the repast Marcelline arose, and as the Constable led her forth he thanked her for her hospitality, and bade her adieu, stating that he should depart long before daylight.
In consideration of the fatigue they had undergone, and the extraordinarily early hour at which it had been arranged that they were to depart, most of the Con stable’s attendants now retired to rest; but, before seeking his chamber, Bourbon had an hour’s private conference with D’Herment, at which Pomperant and Tansannes were present.
Just as the castle clock struck two, torches flashed in the great court, and showed the enclosure filled with horsemen. Shortly afterwards the chief part of the Constable’s adherents made their appearance, and mounted their steeds. Ere many more minutes, Bourbon, attended by the châtelain, descended into the court, muffled in a heavy riding-cloak, doubtless to protect him from the fresh morning air. After taking leave of D’Herment, and casting a hasty glance around to ascertain that the men to whom the bags of treasure had been confided were there, he rode out of the gateway, followed by his train.
On gaining the valley he struck spurs into his steed, and the whole troop proceeded at a quick pace in the direction of the Château de Carlat, whither they were bound. Thus they passed on through a wild district, the volcanic mountains looking singularly fantastic in the gloom. Bourbon rode on in front alone, and seemed buried in thought.
At last, when day began to dawn, and the cones and craters of the mountains became more distinct, the leader of the party checked his horse, and signed to the troop to halt. The order was instantly obeyed. But what was the surprise of the young seigneurs, and indeed of the whole cavalcade, when their chief facing them, and throwing aside his cloak, disclosed the features of Tansannes!
Exclamations of surprise and anger arose on all sides.
“What is the meaning of this? Where is the Lord Constable? Has he deserted us?” cried several voices.
“He is on his way to the Franche-Comté,” replied Tansannes. “Instead of retiring to rest, he quitted the Château d’Herment at midnight, disguised, and attended only by Pomperant. His aim is to gain Saint-Claude with as much expedition as possible, and we are to join him there.”
This announcement caused great discontent among the young seigneurs, and they gave loud utterance to their anger.
“Pardieu! the Constable has done ill to desert us,” cried Peloux, “We would all have shed our last drop of blood for him. He had better have died with his friends than be captured ingloriously.”
“The Constable will never be taken alive,” said Tansannes.
“But he should not have left us without a word,” said Saint-Bonnet. “It looks as if he could not trust us.”
“He felt you would refuse to leave him,” said Tansannes.
“Why, so we should,” rejoined Desguières. “I, for one, would never have left him.”
“It was the conviction that a large escort must necessarily increase his risk, that caused him to abandon you,” said Tansannes. “But he trusts you will rejoin him at Saint-Claude. He confides his treasure to your charge.”
“Nothing, then, is left us but to cry ‘Sauve qui peut,’ and disperse,” said Peloux. “Let each man make the best of his way to the frontier.”
“Agreed,” replied the others.
“Saint-Claude must be our rendezvous,” said Tansannes. “A week hence, if all be well, we will meet there. Vive Bourbon!”
“Vive Bourbon!” exclaimed the others, and the shout was echoed by the whole troop.
The young seigneurs then bade each other adieu, and rode off in different directions, each taking with him a bag of gold, and a guard of a dozen soldiers.