Early next morning I was summoned to attend the Admiral, who received me very graciously.

“I trust you have rested well,” he said, “as I am about to send you on another journey. There is, however, no danger in it,” he added, smiling. “I wish you to go to the Prince of Conde at Noyers, to tell him your story, and to answer any questions he may put to you. I am setting out myself in an hour or two, but my preparations are not complete. Monsieur Bellievre will accompany you as guide; he has received my instructions.”

The Admiral could not have chosen for me a more suitable comrade than Felix Bellievre. He was quite young, barely more than eighteen, tall, slim, and good-looking. He had large, expressive, dark eyes, thick, curling hair, and beautiful white teeth. His smile was sweet and winning, and he had an air of candour very engaging. Indeed, he so won upon me, that, after the first mile or two of our journey, we were chatting like old friends.

“You must be a person of importance,” he declared merrily. “Your coming has created a tremendous commotion at Tanlay. Is it true that the Guises are bent on a fresh war?”

“I cannot tell; I am nothing more than a messenger.”

“’Twas said last night you were the bearer of startling news. There was whisper of a plot to swoop down upon the Admiral and on Conde, and to whisk them off to Paris. Faith, if the Guises once got them there we should see little of them again.”

“Why has the Admiral no soldiers?”

“Because he is too honourable to distrust others. He believes they will keep their word. As for me, I would as soon trust a starving wolf as a Guise, or the Queen-Mother. The Admiral is foolish, but he is too good-hearted to think about himself.”

Praise of the Admiral entered largely into Bellievre’s conversation, as indeed it did into that of all his retinue. No one was so wise or strong, so full of courage and good sense, so patient and forbearing, so grand and noble as Gaspard de Coligny. It was hero worship, perhaps, but hero worship of the truest kind. Not one of his household but would have died for him.

“Do you know,” I said presently, “that the Admiral is coming to Noyers?”

“And his gentlemen! It looks as if rumour for once spoke true.”

“But we cannot defend ourselves at Noyers against an army!”

“No, that is impossible. Besides, our leaders must be free, or there will be no one to command the troops. Fancy an army without Conde or the Admiral at its head!” and he laughed merrily.

“Then what is likely to be done?”

“Faith, I have no notion!” he answered lightly.

“We march and countermarch and fight, just as we are bidden; it is all one to those of Coligny’s household. We never ask questions.”

It was a glorious day, with a fresh breeze tempering the heat of the sun, and we rode along gaily. My comrade had already learned habits of caution, but there was really no danger, and late in the afternoon we reached Noyers, where, after a short delay, I was admitted into Conde’s presence.

He had received a message from Tanlay some hours previously, and he said at once: “You are Edmond Le Blanc, who brought the packet from La Rochelle.”

“From the Castle of Le Blanc, my lord, where it was given me by Ambroise Devine.”

“Ah, yes, he was attacked and wounded. What did he tell you?”

“That troops were being collected secretly to surround Tanlay and Noyers, that the banks of the Loire were guarded” the Prince gave a start of surprise and that unless you moved quickly, your escape would be cut off.”

“And you rode from Le Blanc to Tanlay? Did you hear anything of this on the journey?”

“No, my lord, but there seemed to be a general feeling of uneasiness abroad, as if people thought something strange was about to happen.”

“Did you notice any movement of troops?”

“No, my lord.”

“Where did you cross the Loire?”

“At the ford a little to the north of Nevers.”

“And it was unguarded? But there, it matters little; it will be guarded by now. How do the folks in your own neighbourhood talk?”

“That the present state of things cannot continue, and that one side or the other must begin a fresh war.”

“Humph,” he said, half to himself, “if we unsheath the sword again, we will not lay it down until the work is finished. Monsieur, you need rest and refreshment; my gentlemen will attend to you. The Admiral will be here by nightfall. We have to thank you for your services. It was a very gallant enterprise.”

Bellievre, who was no stranger at Noyers, introduced me to several of his acquaintances, and we spent a merry evening together. The rumour of some impending calamity had spread rapidly, and all sorts of opinions were expressed by Conde’s cavaliers.

“I hope,” said one, “if war does break out that the Prince will not make peace until the Guises and the Queen-Mother are swept out of the country. The king is but a cat’s-paw.”

“True,” cried another. “His mother rules him completely.”

“And the Guises rule her!”

“Not at all,” said the first man, “she is ruled by her own fears. Catherine wants all the power in her own hands, and she is afraid of the Prince’s influence. That is the root of the evil.”

“She has too many Spaniards and Italians around her,” said Bellievre; “France is drained dry by foreigners. A plague on the leeches!”

“Bravo, Felix, that is well said; but if this rumour is really true, it is time we were doing something. A hundred sworders would make little impression on an army.”

“Trust our chiefs! The Admiral will be here in an hour or two. I shall be surprised if we are not out of Noyers by this time to-morrow.”

Bellievre and I were in bed when the Admiral arrived, but the next morning we discovered that preparations were being made for almost instant departure. We numbered about a hundred and fifty horsemen, and by ourselves could have made a spirited fight; but we were hampered by the presence of our leaders’ wives and children, and more than one man shook his head doubtfully at the thought of meeting the king’s troops. I asked my comrade where we were going, and he replied that there were as many different opinions as horsemen. “But for my part,” said he, “I believe our destination is La Rochelle. That has always been the rallying-place.”

“’Tis a long journey, and with the women and children a dangerous one!” I remarked. “We can be ambushed at a thousand places on the road.”

“Then,” said he gaily, “there are a thousand chances of a fight. My dear Edmond we seem such good friends that I cannot call you Le Blanc do not look so gloomy. To us of the Admiral’s house a brush with the enemy is as natural as breaking one’s fast. They know the Coligny battle-cry by now, I assure you.”

“I am not thinking of ourselves, but of the women and children.”

“Ah,” said he brightly, “that gives us a chance of gaining greater glory.”

The sun was always shining and the sky always blue for Felix Bellievre, and if there were any clouds, he failed to see them. He and I rode in the rear of the cavalcade, with the Sieur Andelot, Coligny’s brother, and a number of cavaliers belonging to his household. The weather, fortunately, was dry, but the sun beat down fiercely, and at times we were half-choked by the dust that rose from beneath our feet.

As Felix had foretold, we struck westward, travelling at a steady pace, and seeing no sign of the king’s troops till shortly before reaching the Loire, near Sancerre. Then the few cavaliers forming the extreme rear came riding hurriedly with the information that a large body of the enemy was pushing on at a tremendous pace with the object of overtaking us.

“The rear is the post of honour, gentlemen,” said Andelot, with his pleasant smile he was, I think, even more kindly than his famous brother “but it is also the post of danger. We must keep these troops at bay until our comrades succeed in discovering a ford,” and we greeted his words with a loyal cheer.

The situation was in truth an awkward one. Unless our scouts could find some way of crossing the river we must either surrender or suffer annihilation, and the word had gone forth that there must be no yielding. “Faith, Edmond,” exclaimed Felix merrily, “it seems you are to have a good baptism. One could not wish a better introduction to knightly feats. Ah, here comes one of Conde’s men with news.”

A cavalier galloping back from the advance-guard informed Andelot that the ford was passable, and that the Prince expected us to keep off the foe until the ladies, with a small escort, had crossed to the opposite side.

“The Prince can trust in our devotion,” replied Andelot briefly.

We proceeded steadily and in perfect order, Andelot last of all, when presently we heard the thunder of hoofs and a loud shout of “For the King!” as the foremost of the enemy tore pell-mell toward us. We quickened our pace in seeming alarm, and the royalists rushed on cheering as if their prey were already secured.

Suddenly Andelot gave the signal; we wheeled as one man, and with a yell of defiance dashed at them. The surprise was complete. Confident in their numbers they were riding anyhow, and before they could form we were upon them. Down they went, horses and riders, while the air was rent by shouts of “Conde!” “For the Cause!” “For the Admiral!” “Guise! Guise!” In three minutes after the shock they were flying in wild confusion back to their infantry.

“Bravo, gentlemen!” cried our leader, as we checked the pursuit and reformed our ranks, “that is worth half an hour to our friends!”

“A smart affair that,” remarked Bellievre, “but soon over. If Guise is with the troops we shan’t come off so well next time; he is a fine soldier. But the women and children must have crossed the ford by now.”

We proceeded steadily till the road turned, and here Andelot halted, evidently expecting another attack. Nor had we long to wait. With a sweeping rush the enemy returned, headed by a richly-dressed cavalier on a superb horse, and shouting: “Guise! Guise!”

They outnumbered us by four to one, but we were well placed, and not a man budged.

“Let them spend their strength,” said our leader, “and when they waver, charge home!”

The onset was terrific, but not a horseman broke through our ranks; they crowded upon one another in the narrow pass; they had no room for the play of their weapons, and while those in the rear were striving to push forward, the foremost were thrust back upon them in a confused heap.

Then, above the din, was heard Andelot’s voice, crying: “Charge, gentlemen!” and with the force of a hurricane rush we swept them before us like leaves scattered by an autumn gale. And as we returned, flushed but triumphant, a second messenger met us.

“They are across, my lord,” he cried, “all but ourselves; and the Prince is preparing to defend the ford on the farther side of the river. He begs that you will come immediately; the waters are rising.”

“Forward! Forward!” Laughing and cheering, we raced along, a few wounded, but none seriously, and most of us unharmed. Our comrades were marshalled on the opposite bank, and they cried to us to hasten. From what cause unless by a direct intervention of Providence I know not, but the river was rising rapidly, and the last of our troop were compelled to swim several yards.

But we reached the bank without mishap, and turning round perceived our stubborn pursuers advancing at full speed. The foremost horsemen reaching the river drew rein; the ford was no longer visible, and they had no means of passage. They wandered along the bank disconsolately, while we, sending them one last cheer, rode after our van.

“A point in the game to us, Edmond,” said my comrade, “and oddly gained too. The Admiral’s chaplain will make use of that in his next discourse. He will say that Providence is fighting on our side.”

“’Tis at least a good omen! Had the enemy crossed, we must have been defeated.”

“Perhaps so; perhaps not. I’ll wager Guise is storming over yonder, at the escape of his prey.”

“But why wasn’t the ford guarded?” I asked.

“An oversight, most likely, and a fortunate one for us. However, we are out of the trap.”

“There is still a long distance to go.”

“Yes, but every day’s journey improves our position. Conde feels secure now; he dreaded only the passage of the Loire. Guise made a huge blunder which, in the future, will cost him dear.”

Encouraged by our escape, and more so by the strange manner of it, we rode on with light hearts, chatting gaily about our past adventures, and looking forward with confidence to our safe arrival at Rochelle.

“I suppose you will throw in your lot with us,” said Bellievre, as we lay sheltering one noon from the sun’s heat; “it is a great honour to belong to the Admiral’s household.”

“I should like it of all things, but there are two objections to the plan. In the first place the Admiral has not offered me the privilege, and in the second I must return home. My parents will be alarmed at such a long absence.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “you must visit your father and mother. As for the first objection,” he added mysteriously, “it can be remedied easily.”

I did not understand his meaning, but the very next day, as we were proceeding on our journey, the Admiral came to my side.

“Bellievre tells me,” he said, “that you wish to join my household!”

“My lord,” I replied, flushing crimson for this speech was very startling and unexpected “I can hardly credit that such honour is within my reach.”

“There is no honour to which the son of the Sieur Le Blanc cannot aspire,” he said, “and you have already proved yourself a brave lad. But first you must lay the proposal before your father; if he consents, you will find me at my house in Rochelle. We pass, I believe, within a day or two’s march of Le Blanc. Is your purse empty?”

“No, my lord, I thank you; I have sufficient for my needs.”

“Very well; you know where to find me, but I warrant Bellievre will be looking out for you!”

“I shall watch for him eagerly, my lord,” interposed Felix; “he is too good a comrade to be lost.”

“I owe this to your kindness, Felix,” I remarked when the Admiral had ridden off.

“Not kindness, my friend, but selfishness. I was thinking not so much of you, as of Felix Bellievre. I foresee many happy days in store for us, Edmond.”

“Like the one at Sancerre, for instance!”

“Ah,” he replied brightly, “that is a day to be marked in red. But there will be others; and, Edmond, do not waste too much time between Le Blanc and La Rochelle.”

“Unless I am laid by the heels,” I answered laughing, “I shall be at Rochelle shortly after you!”