CHAPTER XXIX.
The morning of the fourteenth of March broke through a sky filled withscattered clouds, the light fragments of the past-by storm, which,borne away by a quick soft wind, hurried shadowy over the laughingsunshine of the early day, like the momentary woes and cares ofinfancy. After a night of watchfulness and inquietude, the soldiers ofHenry IV. rose not the less full of hope and courage, for all they hadendured. Marching out from the villages in which they had beenquartered, they advanced to a position which the king had chosen sometime before, and which his army had occupied the greater part of thepreceding day, in expectation of being attacked by the forces ofMayenne, whose army had been in sight during the whole afternoon.
Some apprehension had been entertained in the Royalist camp during thenight, lest the enemy should have retired across the Eure, to avoid acombat which bade fair to decide the fate of France; but the firstdawn of the morning effaced this fear, by showing the outposts ofMayenne, still occupying the edge of the gentle slope which terminatedthe plain towards Mon?eaux and La Neuvillette. The main body of theLeaguers had, indeed, withdrawn to a little from the position they hadoccupied on the preceding day; but this movement had only taken placein order that they might pass the inclement night which followed inthe shelter afforded by the villages towards Ivry; and ere the monarchhad been long on his ground, the heavy masses of cavalry and infantrywhich supported Mayenne were seen congregating on the upland,considerably increased in number by reinforcements which had arrivedduring the night, and early in the morning.
Some small bodies also had joined the forces of the king; and althoughthe rolls of the League presented at least double the number of nameswhich the list of Henry's followers could display, yet upon the partof the Royalists there was that undoubting, confident resolution,which so often commands success, joined to that cautious energy whichinsures it against almost every chance.
Towards ten o'clock, the position of the royal army was taken up, thesquadrons of cavalry formed along the whole line, and the infantrydisposed in masses between the small bodies of the horse. On the rightappeared the squadron of the Marechal d'Aumont, with several infantryregiments; towards the centre were the cannon, few in number, but wellplaced, and directed by officers of skill and activity; and on theleft was the squadron of the king himself, with the reserve of theMarechal de Biron. The appearance of the royal host offered nothingvery brilliant; for every leader amongst the Royalists had been solong expelled from the gay capital, and so many of them had sufferedin fortune by their attachment to the monarch, that steel--cold greysteel--was the only ornament that the ranks of Henry IV. presented.The king himself appeared amongst his troops without that surcoat ofarms which was borne even by the poorest gentleman on the other side;but in order that he might be known and distinguished in the _m?l?e_,a large white plume of feathers rose above his casque, and a similarmark was placed in the head of his battle charger. It was thus heappeared in the front of the squadron he particularly commanded, whenthe young Marquis of St. Real and several other gentlemen rode up, andsought permission to fight near the person of his Majesty.
"No, no, St. Real," replied the king; "you will be required at thehead of your own troops."
"I can perfectly trust my lieutenant, sire," replied St. Real. "If youwill grant me my request, I will answer for his conducting the troopsas well as I could myself."
"No, St. Real, no!" answered the monarch, again smiling gaily uponhim; "I must not have all my best officers in one place. I am vainenough to think that my own hand is here a host, and I must have mygallant friends posted where they may do as much. Besides, I haveother work for you. Here is my noble Rosny, who has brought me upJames's arquebusiers from Passy: I wish you to join them to yourforce, and hold yourself as the commander of my own especial reserve.If you see my squadron broken, come to my aid,--but not otherwise,mind. You won glory enough at Arques, St. Real, and you must let ushave our share here. But stay; were you not in the room last nightwhen Schomberg came to ask for his men's pay, and I spoke somewhatharshly to him in reply?"
"I was, sire," replied St. Real, bowing his head gravely; for he hadthought at the time, that the king had treated the veteran unkindly.
"Well, then, come with me!" said Henry: "you witnessed the fault, youmust witness the reparation." Thus saying, he rode along the line,followed by St. Real and about twenty other horsemen, sometimespausing to gaze upon the swarming host of Mayenne, which, crowning theopposite slope, was making every disposition for immediate battle;sometimes turning towards his own army to address the heads of thesquadrons he passed, or the gentlemen who accompanied him. "Ha! thereis the white standard and black _fleurs de lis_ of the Guises!" heexclaimed, speaking to St. Real. "Our good cousin of Mayenne must bein person on the field already. 'Tis a wonder he is so soon up! Howmild the day is, De Givry! Well! you and your brave fellows, I see,run no risk of overheating yourselves before the battle; for, by myfaith, we have none of us much over-clothing besides cold steel. Ah!Monsieur de Brigneux, you have a good view of the enemy, and will notlose sight of them till they have tasted the quality of your steel,I'll warrant. They must be two to one, Vignoles! I am sure I hope theyare; for I would not have to defeat a less force for one half ofBurgundy. They tell me our friends from Picardy are within two miles;but faith, I shall not wait till they come up, lest we should have toomany to share our glory. Ha! here we are, St. Real; do me the favourof putting your foot to the ground with me."
St. Real instantly flung his rein to an attendant, and followed theking on foot to the head of a regiment, where sat a strong elderlyman, whose countenance--the features of which were bland andmild--wore a stern and sullen air, and whose cheek, showing here andthere the red lines of florid health, was now, nevertheless, pale inits general hue. He dismounted from his horse as the monarchapproached, and rendered him a military salute with the same gravesternness which had marked his aspect ere the king came up. Henry,however, instantly laid his hand upon his arm in silence and ledhim back--for he had advanced a few steps--to the head of hisregiment; and then, when every soldier in the ranks could hear, hesaid,--"Colonel Schomberg, we are now on what will soon be a field ofbattle, and it is very possible that I may remain upon it. I gave youhard words last night; and it is not fair that I should carry out ofthe world with me the honour of a brave gentleman like you. I come,therefore, to recall what I said, and publicly to declare, that I holdyou for as good a man, and as gallant a soldier, as at this timelives." Thus saying, he took the veteran in his mailed arms, andpressed him to his bosom, while the warm tears streamed down the roughcheek of the old soldier.
"Ah, sire!" cried Schomberg; "in restoring me the honour which yourwords took from me, you now take from me life, for I should beunworthy if I did not cast it away in your service; and if I had athousand, I should wish to pour them forth at the feet of such aking."
"No, no!" said Henry, again embracing him; "spend your blood,Schomberg, as I will mine, when there is need of it; but still keep itas long as you can, for the service of your master. And now, myfriends, we will all do our duty. St. Real, my friend, to your post!Schomberg, farewell! Monsieur de Vicq, have the kindness to tell theBaron de Biron to advance the squadrons on the right for about twohundred paces; for I see the front of the enemy begin to shake, andthe battle must be no longer delayed than sufficient to enable us toget the sun and wind behind us, otherwise we shall be blinded with thesmoke and glare."
Henry now rode back to his squadron; and St. Real returned to the headof his own forces, which had by this time been reinforced, accordingto the king's command, by James's horse arquebusiers. Here the youngleader, now well accustomed to scenes of battle and victory, fixed hiseyes upon the squadron of the king; and though anxious, with all thefire of a chivalrous heart, to take an active share in the comingcontest, he yet determined to observe to the letter the orders he hadreceived; well knowing that they had been dictated by experience andskill, such as he had not the vanity to believe he himself possessed.Although
the thought of danger or the thrill of fear never crossed hisbosom for a moment, yet the countenance of St. Real was grave and sad.No man felt more for the suffering people of his native country, noone regretted more deeply every fresh act of the great tragedy whichday after day deluged France with blood; but at the present moment, itmust be owned, St. Real's feelings were personal. He thought ofEugenie de Menancourt; and his heart sunk, when, contemplating theloss of the present battle, he suffered imagination to dwell on all towhich she might be exposed if the League were triumphant. Her realsituation he knew not, nor had he more than a vague idea of thecircumstances that attended her flight from Paris, for nought butrumours of the event had reached him during his long service with theroyal army. But on that very morning he had learned from a trumpet,who had brought him an insulting defiance from his cousin D'Aubin,that the vassals of Menancourt were now led by the Count; that Eugeniewas still a fugitive from her home; and that it was generally supposedamongst the Leaguers she had sought refuge with him. These tidings, atleast, taught him to believe that she was unprotected in the wideworld with which she was so little fitted to cope; and the letter ofhis cousin showed him that misery and violence waited her, if fortunefavoured the arms of those who had already oppressed her.
Such thoughts called a pang into his bosom, and a cloud upon his brow;but feeling that even his individual exertion might aid in winning afield on which so much was staked, he sternly bent his thoughts to theevents immediately before him, and watched, as we have said, thesquadron of the king with steadfast and eager attention. Scarcely hadthe monarch rejoined that squadron, when the army was put in motion;and taking its left as a centre, wheeled a little, so as to gain theadvantage of the sun and wind. When this was completed, the troopsagain halted in a position decidedly better than the former ground;and the next moment, a horseman, riding from the side of the king,galloped at full speed to the artillery. Only four cannon and twoculverines were on the ground upon the side of Henry IV; but theyinstantly opened against the enemy, and were recharged and fired withsuch rapidity, that ere Mayenne could bring his guns to bear, those ofthe Royalists had nine times poured death and confusion into the midstof his ranks. The squadrons of the League could be seen to shake andwaver under that terrible fire; and horseman after horseman, partingfrom the spot where Mayenne and his officers were placed, galloped upto the tardy cannoneers, as if to hasten them in the execution oftheir duty. An ill-directed volley at length followed; and at the samemoment the light cavalry of the League advanced to charge the left ofthe Royalists. They were met, however, half way, by the impetuousD'Aumont; whose squadron, passing through them like a thunderbolt,turned and charged them again. The battle then became general; troopafter squadron was hurried into the fight; the smoke rolled in heavymasses over the plain; and one of the dense clouds thereof, sweepingbetween the troops of St. Real and the squadron of the king, forseveral minutes prevented the young noble from seeing aught butindistinct forms of dark whirling masses, now lost, now appearingagain in the white wreaths of vapour. Anxious to fulfil his chargeexactly, he led his squadron a few yards in advance; and at the samemoment the smoke clearing away, allowed him to perceive the principalmass of the enemy, in which appeared the standard, or cornet, as itwas called, of the Duke of Mayenne, in the very act of charging thesmall square of cavalry headed by the king.
Wheeling the horse arquebusiers which had been joined to the troops ofSt. Real, upon the flank of the advancing column, the English officerwho commanded them poured a volley into the ranks of the Leaguers,which shook them severely; but still they came on at a thunderingpace, numbering nearly two thousand men; and the handful of gallantgentlemen who surrounded the monarch were soon lost to the sight. Theheart of St. Real beat quick for his king; but the moment after, thedark and struggling mass of Leaguers seemed rent by some mighty powerwithin. It reeled, it wavered; the clash of arms grew louder andlouder, and the flashing of pistols and the shouts of the combatantswere more distinctly heard where St. Real sat. The next moment forthburst the unbroken squadron of the king, and wheeling rapidly, thewhite plume pressed onward against the very front of the repulsedenemy.
At that instant, however, Count Egmont, the brave but unworthy son ofa noble and patriotic father, cast himself in the way of the horsemenof the League, who were in the very act of turning their bridles tofly; rallied them with words of fire and indignation, and brought themback in fury to the charge. Already somewhat disarrayed by thefierceness of the combat, the king's squadron was broken in everypart; and though the white plume was still seen towering over thethickest of the strife, St. Real felt that he had abstained enough,and led on his squadron to the support of the monarch. In the very actof charging, however, he observed a strong body of horse draw out frombehind a little wood, called _La Haye des Pr?s_, on the left of thearmy of the League, and bear directly down upon him. A moment's glanceshowed him the arms of Aubin and Menancourt; and the next instant hebeheld his cousin giving the order to charge. St. Real instantlyhalted, so as not to expose his flank; and the troops of his cousingalloped furiously towards him, till they were within the distance ofa hundred yards, when some hesitation was seen in their ranks.
"Thank God!" thought St. Real; "his heart is touched, and he will seeksome other foe."
But the next moment this hope was done away, and the hesitation wasotherwise explained. The forces of Aubin approached still nearer, butat a slower pace; and at length the whole of the horsemen levied onthe lands of Menancourt halted short.
"Charge!" cried D'Aubin, with a gesture of furious indignation."Traitors, do you refuse to charge?" And galloping across the front,he struck the headmost horseman of that troop a blow with his clenchedgauntlet that made him reel in the saddle. The man instantly recoveredhimself, and shouting "For St. Real! for St Real! Vive Henri Quatre!"galloped forward, followed by all the rest of the vassals ofMenancourt, who ranged themselves in good order by the troops of theyoung Marquis.
The forces composed of D'Aubin's own followers, small in proportion,had halted in some disarray while their leader had crossed them tochastise the refractory trooper; and they now found themselvessuddenly opposed to a body of more than double their own number.D'Aubin himself, it would seem, was taken by surprise, although it wasevident that the defection of the retainers of De Menancourt was apremeditated act, and although he had long remarked a coolness intheir service, and a disposition to quarrel with his own followers. Hepaused then in doubt, glaring with eyes of rage and hatred over thepowerful squadron before him. Then whispering a word to hislieutenant, he rode two or three yards forward, and shaking hisclenched fist, exclaimed, "St. Real, you are a traitor, and havepractised on my troops; but I will meet you yet, and force you to giveme reason." Thus saying, he turned his horse and rejoined his troops,who were already slowly, and in better order than before, withdrawingfrom the perilous position in which they stood.
St. Real hesitated for a moment as to whether he should overwhelmthem, as he felt he could, by a single charge of his powerfulsquadron; and duty struggled for a moment with the kindlier feelingsof his heart: but turning his head, a glance towards the king'sdivision saved him from farther hesitation, by showing him thereitters of the League pouring down upon the monarch, in support ofthe force under Mayenne; and he immediately wheeled his troops, andmet, in full charge, the superior body thus offered. Although theheavier horses and armour of his own men-at-arms enabled them to breakthe first rush of the German horse, the superior numbers of the latterfor a time prevailed, and the squadron of St. Real was borne back uponthat of the king. The ranks, however, on all parts, were by this timebroken; and, perhaps, never was a more complete exemplification of theword _m?l?e_ than the centre of the field of Ivry at that moment. Manto man, and hand to hand, the fight was now continued. The lance hadfallen quite into disuse amongst the royal forces before this period;the sword, the pistol, and the mace decided all; and so mingled andperplexed were friends and foes, that more than one man-at-arms wasstruck down by others fighting on
the same part. The sounds of thecannon still pealed from other parts of the plain; and, together withthe shouts, the pistol shots, the discharges of musketry, and theclash of steel, rendered the words of the loudest voicesunintelligible, even when vociferating words of command to anyhandfuls of men that still held together; while from time to time acloud of smoke rolled in amongst the combatants, hiding everythingelse from their eyes, except the little group of horsemen fightingaround them. In the midst of the enemy's troopers, and onlyaccompanied by two or three of his most devoted followers, St. Real'spersonal strength, skill, and valour, wrought over again the deeds ofchivalrous times. The reitters fell back before the sweep of histremendous sword; and plunging his strong battle-horse in amongstthem, he dealt death and terror around; while his own soldiers beganonce more to gather and to form by twos and threes behind him. At themoment when about a third of his squadron had rallied, through therolling smoke, he caught a glimpse of the white plume dancing still inthe midst of a dark group of horsemen, while a hundred weapons, wavingaround it, seemed aimed at that life on which hung the destinies ofFrance.
Without pausing even to think, St. Real spurred towards theking: the reitters closed in behind him; and the next moment hispath was crossed by the man of all others whom he least desired toencounter--his cousin.
"Out of the way, Philip d'Aubin!" he cried, heated with the strife ofthe moment; "out of the way! By the soul of my father, you will urgeme too far!"
D'Aubin probably heard not what he said; at least his reply was tooindistinct to convey any definite meaning to the ear of St. Real,though the furious gesture by which it was accompanied spoke foritself. The Count spurred on upon his cousin; and St. Real, with hisbeaver up, paused to see whether one in whose veins flowed the sameblood as in his own, would really raise the hand against his life. Hehimself, however, was, as we have said, heated with the combat; andwhen he saw D'Aubin gallop on, with the point of his heavy sword aimeddirectly at his face, he lost patience, and spurred forward to meethim. Dropping his sword, however, by the thong that attached it to hiswrist, he seized the mace, which, according to the old customscherished by his family, he carried at his saddle bow; and, parryingthe weapon of his kindred adversary wherever it attempted to strikehim, he made the mass of iron play round his head like a willowwand--without, however, returning one blow of all the many that wereaimed against him.
"Leave me, D'Aubin!" he exclaimed at length, as they wheeled theirhorses close together, and he perceived that his cousin was bleedingfrom several wounds he had previously received: "leave me, I say; youare wounded, and no match for me.--Leave me, or you will provoke metoo far!"
D'Aubin felt, however, that his cousin used not either his strength orhis skill against him; and his pride was more hurt to be spared thanit would have been to be vanquished. He replied nothing but "Traitor!"and snatching a pistol from his saddle, levelled it at St. Real'shead. But the Marquis had marked the movement of his hand towards theholster; and exclaiming, "Take that then, to cure your folly!" hestruck him full on the casque a blow that he intended to be slight,but which drove in the steel, and laid him prostrate on the plain.
St. Real paused for an instant, to see whether the ill-fated D'Aubinwould rise; but a cry of "_Au Roi! au Roi!_" struck his ear; andturning, he perceived the Baron de Rosny, covered with wounds,pointing to a spot where the white plume of Henry Quatre was stillfloating in the midst of the foe. It still floated; but neverthelessthere was about it that uncertain wavering, that staggering rise andfall, which showed St. Real at once that his sovereign was hardpressed by the multitude that surrounded him. Every other thought wasinstantly cast aside before the feeling of superior duty; and callingto some of his troopers who were near to follow, he galloped on, andcleft his way like a thunderbolt into the press around the king. Erehe could reach him, however, a loud shout echoed from the midst of thecrowd, and the white plume disappeared. Two sweeps of St. Real's sworddealt death to the reitters that lay in his path; and the next momenthe reached the spot where Henry was struggling up from the carcass ofhis gallant charger, who had fallen dead beneath him, after receivinga multitude of wounds.
The young cavalier instantly sprang to the ground, exclaiming, "Mountmy horse, sire!" and held the stirrup while the monarch sprang intothe saddle. At the same moment a pistol shot struck him on the casque,and made him reel, but it did not penetrate the well-tried steel; and,looking round, he saw that in the brief space of time which hadelapsed since he came up, the spot on which they stood had becomecomparatively clear, with none but one or two of his own and theking's attendants very near, while on the slope of the hill appeared aconfused mass of the enemy, with their backs to the field of battle,and their faces towards the Eure.
The next instant his own ecuyer led him forward a horse, while theking, exclaiming, "They fly, St. Real, they fly! Mount and follow withwhat men you can collect!" struck his spurs into the charger's side,and galloped on to gain the horsemen who were in the act of pursuingthe fugitives. St. Real hastened to obey, and springing on thecharger's back, in a moment gathered together about fifty of his owntroopers, and spurred after the king. As he reached the top of theslope, the whole field of battle lay open before his eyes; and astrange and confused, but not unpicturesque, sight it was. Three darkmasses of the Leaguers and their pursuers were seen hurrying over thedistant country towards the river; while, as the broken clouds wereborne rapidly over the sky by a quick wind, the different groups ofRoyalists and fugitives, dashing on in fury after each other, were atone moment covered with deep shadow which hid all the several parts;at another, exposed, with the sunshine picking out in bright reliefeach individual horseman as he scoured across the upland. On the otherside lay the plain where that fierce and bloody fight had taken place,covered with knots of fugitives, prisoners, wounded and dead, with theartillery playing upon a village in which the Leaguers were making alast effort; and the clouds of smoke still rolling solemnly over thefield, after the fierce flash was gone, like heavy remorse followingthe eager act of angry passion. Small bodies of the Royalists too wereseen, dispersing any group of the Leaguers who attempted toreassemble, and taking those prisoners whose horses were incapable ofbearing them away; while the reserve under Marshal Biron, dark andheavy, hung upon the opposite slope, advancing slowly like a luridthundercloud, borne along by the slow breath of the summer wind.
Near the same spot whence St. Real took a hurried glance over thefield, the king himself had stopped for the same purpose; and themoment after he turned back. "St. Real," he said, as he came near theyoung noble, "the battle might be lost yet! Do you see the Walloonshave still possession of the village?--and that strong body of Swissthere on the left still holds a good position. Come with me; we mustmake sure of the victory ere we urge too far the pursuit." Thussaying, he rode back at full speed towards the spot where his ownsquadron had been originally placed.
Lost sight of in the _m?l?e_, his long absence had caused it to bevery generally believed that the king was dead; and his approach wasgreeted by long and reiterated cries of "_Vive le Roy!_" from a numberof his chief officers, who were engaged in rallying and reforming thesquadrons which had been broken in the beginning of the battle."Thanks, gentlemen, thanks!" cried Henry, taking off his casque. "Lookto those Swiss, Monsieur de Biron: they may give us some trouble yet."
"Shall I send the infantry of the right wing to break them?" demandedthe Baron de Biron.
"No," said Henry, thoughtfully; "no! the Swiss have always been goodfriends to the crown of France: nor would I shed the blood of anyfellow-creature, could it be helped. Some one take a white flag, andoffer them their lives if they lay down their arms and submit quietly.Beseech them to spare more bloodshed--for they must fall if theyresist."
The Swiss, however, were too wise to protract resistance whenresistance was vain. The offer of the victorious monarch was gladlyaccepted; the last of Mayenne's army that kept the field, laid downtheir arms. Henry then gave instant orders for a speedy and vigorouspursuit of the fugiti
ves: and thus ended the battle of Ivry.
On the field where it had been fought, and on the spot where hehimself had contended hand to hand with his cousin, St. Real causeddiligent search to be made for Philip d'Aubin, superintending theexamination himself, and gazing anxiously upon every corpse that wasraised, until it became clear that the Count had not remained upon thefield of battle. It was late in the evening ere this task was over;but when at length, after much useless labour, taken in order to leavenot a painful doubt behind, St. Real was at length convinced, hereturned to his quarters with a lightened heart and a thankful spirit.