The Constable De Bourbon

As soon as it was set free the boat was carried rapidly down the river, and other shots fired at its occupants fell short of their mark. Warthy instantly followed in pursuit, and now began to regret that his boat was overloaded, her quickness being much impeded from this cause. Nevertheless, he felt confident that his prey could not escape him. His men had their arquebuses with them, but he would not allow them to fire.

“I must take the traitor alive,” he said.

Notwithstanding all the ferryman’s efforts, he gained very slightly, if at all, upon the fugitives, who were swept on by the impetuous current, and for nearly half a league they kept well ahead. Any attempt to land would have been dangerous, as soldiers were riding after them on either bank, and an occasional shot warned them of their risk. It was an exciting chase, both to pursuers and pursued, and promised to become more so before it was terminated.

Hitherto, the boat containing Bourbon and his fortunes had pursued its course without encountering any obstacle, though the course of the Rhone is beset by numerous sand-banks; and Warthy had been equally lucky. But the channel was now narrowed by high rocks on either side, and thus confined, the river rushed on with the swiftness of a mill-race.

The pass was considered dangerous even by experienced boatmen, as there were many sunken rocks within it. But if the fugitives were here exposed to a fresh peril, they escaped one to which they had hitherto been subjected, for the precipices kept the soldiers away from the river, and the firing of arquebuses ceased.

Another circumstance seemed favourable to the fugitives. Even in daytime the pass was sombre, but now it was buried in gloom. In places where the rocks overhung the river it was almost pitch-dark. Owing to this obscurity, the fugitives could no longer be distinguished, and Warthy becoming apprehensive lest they might contrive to catch at some projecting ledge of rock or overhanging tree, and allow him to shoot past them, stood up in the boat, trying to peer through the gloom, but could discern nothing save the reflexion of the stars on the darkling current. Though he listened intently, no sound met his ear except the rushing of the impetuous river.

He then ordered two of his men to discharge their arquebuses, and, by the momentary illumination thus afforded, found that his fears were not wholly groundless. But for the precaution he had taken he might have passed the fugitives unobserved. They had struck, it appeared, against a rock, which reared itself above the stream about twenty yards from the left bank, and were now vainly endeavouring to get the boat free.

Warthy instantly directed the ferryman to make for the rock, and at the same time ordered another discharge of arquebuses to guide him, reiterating his injunctions to his men that Bourbon must be taken alive.

The ferryman performed his part of the business successfully. In another moment the boat struck against the rock, and with a violence that shook her from head to stern. Both parties were now close together, and the soldiers immediately attempted to board the ferry-boat, but were beaten back with the loss of one of their number, who was wounded and thrown into the river.

In a second attempt, however, they were more successful, and the ferry-boat became the scene of a desperate conflict, in which personal strength was displayed rather than skill. Indeed, the space was so confined that swords could scarcely be used.

After a furious struggle, which endured for a few minutes, both Pomperant and Hugues were thrown down, and a general attack was made upon Bourbon, who was standing near the head of the boat.

Warthy summoned him to surrender, saying that resistance was useless, but he replied by striking down the foremost of his opponents, and the man fell overboard. Bourbon, being then hard pressed by Warthy and two others, who turned their swords against him, sprang backwards upon the rock, which rose about a couple of feet above the water, presenting a rugged summit, on which not more than two or three persons could find standing room.

“Hold back!” cried Warthy to his men. “If we advance we shall drive him into the river, and I shall lose my prize, and you your reward. Listen to me, Charles de Bourbon,” he added to the Constable. “For the last time, I summon you to surrender.”

“Not while I can defend myself,” rejoined Bourbon. “Come and take me. You dare not come alone.”

“You are mistaken, traitor,” cried Warthy, courageously. “I can capture you without assistance.”

“Make good your vaunt, then,” said Bourbon. “Drag me from this rock, and I will yield.”

“I accept the challenge,” rejoined Warthy, resolutely. “I have no fear of the issue of a conflict with a traitor. Guilt will unnerve your arm – justice will strengthen mine. Move not, I charge you,” he added to his men.

“Leave me to fight it out alone.”

So saying, he leaped upon the rock.

Bourbon did not oppose him, but drew back slightly to give him room.

They now stood face to Face, eyeing each other fiercely – the one thirsting for vengeance, the other animated with the hope of achieving a feat which would ensure him a great reward and endless renown.

“Swords are useless here,” said Warthy.

“Use your poniard, then,” replied Bourbon, sheathing his sword.

His example was followed by Warthy, and in another moment each held a poniard in his right hand, while with his left he grasped the corresponding hand of his adversary.

“You are a brave man, Warthy,” said Bourbon, “and I am loth to kill you, but you have sought your own destruction. You will never leave this rock alive.”

“I will leave it alive, and take you with me, traitor,” rejoined the other.

No more was said. Each released the hand he had till that moment tightly clutched, and a terrible struggle commenced, either combatant striving, with all his force, to prevent his antagonist from using his weapon. Notwithstanding their leader’s injunctions, his men would have come to his assistance, if they could have done so, but Warthy himself was in the way, his back being towards the boat, and Bourbon could not be reached save through him.

For more than a minute the combatants remained locked in each other’s embrace, unable to strike a blow. Warthy exerted all his strength to drag the Constable into the boat, but he might as well have striven to uproot an oak, or move the solid rock beneath his feet. At last, exhausted by futile efforts, he sought to extricate himself from the crushing gripe in which he was held, and partially succeeding, tried to use his poniard. But Bourbon caught his wrist as he raised the weapon, and thus had him completely at his mercy.

“Swear to take off your men and trouble me no further,” said the Constable, “and I will grant you your life.”

“Never!” exclaimed Warthy, again vainly struggling to get free, and calling on his men to succour him.

But, ere assistance could be rendered, Bourbon’s poniard pierced his heart, and his body was flung into the rushing Rhone.

Scared by their leader’s fate, the two soldiers held back for a moment, and this allowed Bourbon time to draw his sword, and successfully repel the attack made upon him.

One of his assailants was speedily sent to join Warthy, and was swept off by the greedy current. The other retreated towards the farther end of the boat, whither he was pursued by Bourbon. His comrades, who had been occupied in guarding Pomperant and Hugues, instantly joined him, and all three attacked the Constable. But the captives being now free, the soldiers were soon overpowered. Two were slain by Bourbon, and the last was thrown overboard by Pomperant.

All Bourbon’s enemies were now disposed of except the ferryman, who had taken no part in the conflict, anticipating a very different result. The man now endeavoured to push off his boat, but was prevented by Hugues, who seized the oars.

Half paralysed by terror, the miserable wretch begged his life in piteous terms, calling upon all the saints to witness that he had been an involuntary agent in the attempt at capturing the Constable, and affirming that he was delighted at its failure. His quavering tones belied his words, and, disgusted by his mendacity, Hugues would have thrown him into the river, but Bourbon interposed, offering the caitiff his life, provided he landed them safely.

All the party having embarked in the boat, it was soon set free, and in another minute the stony mass, which had been the scene of so terrible a conflict, and which was afterwards known as “Bourbon’s Rock,” was left far behind.

The current bore them swiftly through the narrow pass, the river widened, the precipices disappeared, and gave way to vine-clad slopes.

Bourbon would have now landed, but he was deterred by perceiving some of Warthy’s men on the left bank. Luckily, the boat escaped their notice, but mistrusting the ferryman, Hugues threatened to stab him if he made the slightest signal.

This danger avoided, they went on for two leagues farther. In passing Condrieu, then a small village, but now an important town, boasting a suspension-bridge, besides being celebrated for its wine, Hugues again enforced silence upon the ferryman, and the boat swept by unnoticed.

At length a point was reached between Le Roches and Saint-Alban, where Bourbon thought he might safely land, and he accordingly disembarked with his companions.

On leaping ashore, his first impulse was to thank Heaven for a great deliverance.

XVII. THE INN AT SAINT-ANDRE

After his narrow escape from capture by Warthy, Bourbon made his way, as well as he could, across Dauphiné, his intention being either to proceed to Italy, or shape his course to Saint-Claude, in the Franche-Comté, as circumstances might dictate. The journey had to be performed entirely on foot, since he found it impossible to procure horses, and besides undergoing great fatigue, and running constant risks, He had to submit to extraordinary hardships.

On quitting the banks of the Rhone, the fugitives, fearing they might be followed – it being certain the ferryman would give information of their route – did not dare to enter any village where there was an inn, or even seek shelter in a cottage, but avoiding all frequented roads, after a toilsome walk of more than three hours, gained a thick forest, and entering it, passed the rest of the night beneath the trees.

Next morning they quitted the forest, and feeling faint and exhausted from want of food, they were compelled to halt at an auberge, kept by an old woman, in the outskirts of the little town of Saint-André. Astonished at the appetites of her guests, who ate with the voracity of famished wolves, the hostess did not trouble them with any questions, feeling sure she would get no response until they had satisfied their hunger. She then broached the topic on which the whole country was interested, and inquired whether the Constable de Bourbon had been taken.

“I hope not,” replied Pomperant, regarding her fixedly.

“Then you are a partisan of the Constable?” rejoined the old woman.

“I won’t deny it. I am Bourbon’s partisan – his staunch partisan,” returned Pomperant. “I hope he may give his enemies the slip – and I think he will, for I hear he is making his way through Languedoc to Narbonne, and if so, he will soon be safe across the Pyrenees.”

“You have been misinformed,” rejoined the hostess. “Some soldiers who were here late last night declared that Bourbon had crossed the Rhone below Ampuis.”

“Diable! this is news!” exclaimed Pomperant, glancing uneasily at the Constable. “Can you tell us which way the soldiers went, dame?”

“Yes, I can satisfy you on that point,” she replied. “They divided into two parties – one taking the road to Roussillon, the other to Beaurepaire. It may not please you, who have declared yourself a partisan of the Constable, to hear what I have got to say. But I believe he will soon be taken.”

“Before you give a reason for that opinion, let us have some more wine, dame,” said Pomperant. “Your wine is sound and wholesome.”

“Better wine cannot be had in all Dauphiné,” she replied, filling their cups. “Now, then, I’ll tell you why I think Bourbon will be caught.”

“Ay, tell us that,” said the Constable, emptying his flagon.

“I think he will be taken, because he is rash, and exposes himself to needless risk,” said the old woman, looking hard at Bourbon as she spoke. “He is beset with dangers on all sides. The roads are guarded, and there are soldiers in every town in Dauphiné on the lookout for him. Where is he to go?”

“If he reaches the mountains, he will be safe,” said Bourbon.

“Ah! but he won’t reach the mountains if he comes this way,” remarked the hostess.

“Why not? – they are close at hand,” asked Bourbon.

“Because the provost of Vienne, with a powerful guard, is in the neighbourhood, making active search for him,” said the old woman, in a significant tone; “that is why I think he will be captured.”

“She warns me of my danger,” thought Bourbon.

“The provost is coming hither from Eclose,” pursued the hostess. “I wouldn’t advise Bourbon to take that road.”

“I don’t think it likely he will take it, my good dame,” said the Constable. “Depend upon it, he will go in quite another direction.”

“In which direction can he go?” said the hostess. “I tell you, there are soldiers on every road.”

“But there is a cross-road to the mountains,” remarked Hugues.

“True, if he could only find it,” she rejoined.

“I know it,” said Hugues. “Have you any horses, hostess?”

“I have, but I cannot spare them.”

“You mean, you dare not let us have them.”

“As you will. But you won’t get horses in Saint-André, and I advise you not to stay longer than you can help in the neighbourhood.”

“We will follow your counsel, good dame,” said Pom-perant, as he and Bourbon rose from the table, and prepared for immediate departure. “Thanks for our entertainment,” he added, giving her a gold crown.

“This is too much,” she said.

“Keep it, it will bring you luck,” said the Constable. “If Bourbon comes back, show it to him.”

“Ah! I dread his coming back!” she exclaimed. “They say if Bourbon escapes, he will return at the head of an army of English and Spaniards, and slaughter us all, like so many sheep.”

“His enemies say that of him,” rejoined the Constable. “Hear me. If Bourbon comes back, it will be to liberate the people from oppression, and bring them peace and happiness. He loves France better than the king loves it.”

“In that case, I hope he may get away safely, and come back speedily,” said the old woman.

“Amen!” cried Bourbon. “Heaven has already delivered him from many dangers, and will not desert him now! Farewell, good dame!”

“A good journey to you, messieurs,” she rejoined. “Stay,” she added to Hugues; “though I can’t furnish you with horses, I can supply you with provisions, and you will need them in the mountains.”

So saying, she hastily filled a basket with bread and cold meat, and did not neglect to add a couple of flasks of wine.

Armed with this supply, Hugues followed his leaders out of the house, and the party took their way along a rarely-trodden footpath towards the mountains.

They had not proceeded more than a league, when they found they were pursued by the provost of Vienne and his guard, and again sought shelter in a wood. Nor did they venture forth till nightfall, when they inarched on vigorously, and reached the mountains without further interruption.

Nearly four days, marked by incessant toil and exposure to hardship, difficulties, and dangers of many kinds, elapsed before Bourbon and his companions reached Chambéry.

Often, in the course of the wearisome journey, they lost their way among the mountains, for they did not dare to employ a guide, and only when compelled by absolute necessity did they approach a chalet.

Nevertheless, through all this fatigue and danger, Bourbon never lost heart – never for a moment doubted his ultimate escape. Both he and Pomperant had too often known a soldier’s couch to heed sleeping amid the mountains with only the skies above them; and Hugues was not less hardy. Had it not been for the risk to which he was exposed, this kind of life would not have been without a charm to the fugitive prince. Magnificent scenery was presented to him. Mountains, sometimes bare and craggy, sometimes rounded and clothed with trees almost to their summit – while from these heights lovely views were obtained of broad and fertile valleys, watered by rapid streams, and peopled with villages – or a vast plain, spreading out for leagues, giving glimpses here and there of the rushing Rhone, and bounded in the distance by the snowy peaks of the Alps. Such were some of the prospects which cheered Bourbon during-his detention amid the Jura mountains.

At last he approached Chambéry, but neither he nor Pomperant ventured into the town, but, tarrying in the environs, sent on Hugues to reconnoitre. Some time elapsed before their emissary returned. He had managed to replenish his basket with wine and provisions, but brought word that the town was full of soldiers, the Comte de Saint-Pol being there with a large force, on his way to Italy to join Bonnivet.

This intelligence caused Bourbon at once to abandon the design he had formed of crossing the Alps and proceeding to Genoa, and decided him, at whatever risk, to prosecute his original design, and make for the Franche-Comté. There was danger in the latter course, but far greater danger from Saint-Pol and his troops.

Without entering the town, Bourbon therefore turned aside from Chambéry, and took the way towards Aix. They walked for a couple of hours, when worn out almost by fatigue, they approached a châlet, and obtained accommodation for the night. The account they gave of themselves satisfied the master of the châlet, and they left early next morning without exciting his suspicion. On reaching the Lac de Bourget, they hired a boat, and were rowed to the farther end of that beautiful lake.

Having reached Seyssel in safety, they crossed the Rhone, and sought shelter in a châlet for the night. Next morning they again began to ascend the Jura, and alter crossing several peaks, and tracking more than one gloomy gorge, they came in sight of the ancient town of Nantua, seated on the borders of a lake. Not daring, however, to enter the town, they again sought the shelter of a châlet. A mountainous ridge now only separated them from the Franche-Comté. This ridge crossed, Bourbon’s danger would be over.

At break of day the fugitives again started on their journey. It was a lovely morning, and the beauty of the scenery might have tempted them to linger on their way; but they hurried on, eager to cross the frontier.

On attaining the summit of a mountain commanding the beautiful valley, in which lay the old town of Nantua and its lake, Bourbon paused for a moment to survey the lovely prospect, and then became aware that a small troop of cavalry was ascending the heights. Pointing out the danger to his companions they all three started off, and, after crossing the summit of the mountain, dashed down the opposite side. Near the foot of the acclivity there was a thick dark wood, and into this they plunged, though not unperceived by their pursuers, who by this time had gained the brow of the mountain.

At the sight, the soldiers dashed down the hill, a portion of the troop entering the wood, while the others rode round it. By this manouvre they hoped to secure their prey; but they were foiled. Three of the men-at-arms, who had penetrated into the thicket, were suddenly set upon by Bourbon and his companions, and compelled to give up their horses. Being thus provided with steeds, the fugitives suddenly burst out of the wood and galloped towards the frontier, which was marked by the river Ain, now only half a league off.

On a mount on the farther side of the river stood a fort garrisoned by the soldiers of the Emperor, and it was towards this point that the fugitives now shaped their course. But they were hotly pursued by their enemies, while another small band of cavalry, sallying from a fort on the French side of the river, sought to cut off their retreat. Before the latter could come up, however, Bourbon and his companions had reached the river, and dashing into it without hesitation, their horses safely across.

When they landed on the opposite hank they were welcomed by a company of German reiters, to whom the Constable immediately announced himself, and on learning his quality the men shook their lances and set up a loud shout of “Vive Bourbon!”

XVIII. SAINT-CLAUDE

At the Constable’s request he was conducted by the reiters to the fort, where he was received with all the honour due to his rank by the governor, who congratulated him most heartily on his escape, and gave him the very satisfactory intelligence that all his adherents whom he had quitted at the Chateau d’Herment – including the Seigneurs Tansannes, Du Peloux, Espinat, and Desguières – together with Lurcy, had already succeeded in reaching the Franche-Comté.

“Your highness will find them at Saint-Claude, where they are anxiously awaiting your arrival,” said the governor. “They are guests of Cardinal Labaume, Sovereign Bishop of Geneva, and are sojourning at the episcopal palace. Most of them arrived nearly a week ago, but the Seigneur Lurcy only crossed the frontier yesterday.”

“I am rejoiced to learn that Lurcy has escaped,” said Bourbon. “I have heard nothing of him, and feared he might have fallen into the hands of the king, who would have shown him no mercy.”

“That is quite certain,” replied the governor. “Your highness is no doubt aware that the Comte de Saint-Vallier, the Bishops of Autun and Puy, the Seigneurs Aimard de Prie, Pierre de Popillon, Chancellor of the Bourbonnois, Gilbert Baudemanche, and others of your partisans, have been arrested and lodged in the Conciergerie at Paris. It is said, but I know not with what truth, that the Comte de Saint-Vallier has been tortured, to wring confession from him.”

“Alas!” exclaimed Bourbon, “he is most unjustly dealt with. Of all my partisans, Saint-Vallier is the last who ought to be punished, for he endeavoured to dissuade me from my design, and yet it is on his devoted head that the tyrant seems bent on wreaking his direst vengeance. But a day of retribution is at hand. For every life sacrificed by François, I will have ten.”

“I am sorry to mar your highness’s satisfaction at a moment like the present,” said the governor, “but I could not withhold this painful news from you.”

“I thank you for giving it me, sir,” rejoined Bourbon. “The information steels my breast. As I have just said, if I cannot deliver my friends, I can avenge them. But what of the ten thousand lanz-knechts that were to be raised for me by the Comtes Furstenberg?”

“On hearing of your highness’s flight,” returned the governor, “the Comtes Furstenberg marched with their men towards the west, to join the Anglo-Flemish army in Picardy. They took several castles by the way, but I fear they have encountered serious obstacles. The last tidings received of them were, that they were retreating to Neufchâteau on the Meuse, after heavy losses.”

“Would I had been with them!” cried Bourbon. “But where are the four thousand Vaudois promised me?”

“They have returned to their own country, fearing they would get no pay,” replied the governor.

“Then I have no army in the Franche-Comté?”

“Your highness will soon raise one. When your escape is known, thousands will flock round your standard.”

With this assurance Bourbon was forced to be content. He tarried for a few hours at the fort to rest and refresh himself, and during this time both he and Pomperaut were enabled, by the governor’s aid, to make some change in their habiliments, of which they stood greatly in need.

Thus newly equipped, and attended by Hugues, who had likewise obtained fresh habiliments, they started for Saint-Claude, accompanied by an escort of twenty reiters.

As he rode along, Bourbon could not help contrasting his present position with that in which he had been so lately placed, A few hours ago, he was environed by enemies, and in danger of his life. Now he was free, and would soon be able to requite the injuries he had sustained. His exultation was damped by the thought that so many of his partisans were in the king’s hands, but this reflection only served to intensify his desire for vengeance.