"The sooner the better," said he; "we shall rust out by staying here."

Most of the troops, indeed, had begun to weary of inaction, and when, on the arrival of our reinforcements, Coligny determined to offer battle once more, the whole camp received the news with satisfaction. A great grief had befallen our leader. His brother, the kindly genial Sieur Andelot, whom all men loved, had broken down under the terrible strain, and died at Saintes. It was a terrible blow, but the Admiral sternly repressed his sorrow, counting no sacrifice too great for the success of the Cause.

We marched out from the camp at Niort, twenty-five thousand strong, all in good spirits, and all placing the most implicit trust in our gallant leader. The dead Conde's troops were especially eager for the fray, and as they mounted and rode off, the words "Remember Jarnac!" pa.s.sed from man to man. It was a watchword that boded ill for their opponents.

From day to day our scouts brought in word of the royal forces. They outnumbered us by several thousands, but that did not damp our ardour; in spite of Jarnac, we felt that we were marching to victory.

We had advanced within two days' distance of the city of Limoges, when our scouts galloped in with the information that they had encountered a strong force of hostile cavalry. Our preparations for battle were all made, so Coligny continued his march, the hors.e.m.e.n retiring before us, and making no effort to attack.

We pa.s.sed an anxious night: the sentries were doubled, the outposts strengthened, and the men slept with their weapons in their hands, ready to spring up at the first note of warning. For the Admiral's personal attendants there was no sleep whatever. We pa.s.sed our time in visiting the outposts, and in seeing that everything was secure. Only after day broke were we able to s.n.a.t.c.h an hour or two's rest.

"Faith," laughed Felix, as the march was resumed, "this is fine preparation for a battle! Edmond, rub the dust from your eyes; you look sleepy enough to fall from your saddle!"

"And all our labour was wasted!" I grumbled. "Those fellows just went comfortably to sleep, laughing at us for our pains."

"Never mind!" said my comrade merrily, "it may be our turn to laugh next. And, after all, I would rather laugh last."

All that day we marched through a woody, irregular district, the hors.e.m.e.n watching our movements, but retiring steadily at our approach, as if wishing to lure us into some cunning trap. But Coligny was not to be tempted; he kept his troops well in hand, and in the evening we camped by the side of a small stream with a marsh in our front.

"We have caught him," cried Felix, in a tone of delight.

"Or he has caught us!" said I dubiously. "Anjou has some skilful soldier at his elbow who chose that position."

On the other side of the marsh rose a rugged hill, and at the summit the royalist general had pitched his camp. Rude breastworks, from which the muzzles of several guns peeped out, had been erected, and altogether it looked as if Monseigneur had provided us with a hard nut to crack.

Coligny rode out across the marsh to examine the enemy's position more clearly, and I fancied there was a shade of anxiety on his usually serene face. It was a heavy responsibility he had to bear, for, should his troops be defeated, the Huguenot Cause was lost. There was no other army to replace the one under his command.

"The longer you look at it the less you'll like it," said Roger Braund cheerfully--for our English comrade often came over for a chat when we had pitched camp--"Monseigneur has fenced himself in marvellously well."

"The more credit in digging him out!" laughed Felix. "Don't make Edmond more doleful; he is half afraid now of meeting with a second Jarnac. De Pilles"--the commander of our artillery--"will soon batter down those walls, and a sharp rush will carry the hill."

"'Tis a simple matter winning a battle--in our minds," laughed Roger, "but not always so easy in practice. Monseigneur's troops fought well enough at Jarnac."

"Ah," said Felix merrily, "they will fight well here, but we shall fight better!"

"Is an a.s.sault decided on?"

"No one knows," I replied; "there is to be a meeting of the Council presently. But I take it that we must attack. Monseigneur has the advantage of us. He can obtain provisions; we can't."

"And we aren't likely to retreat!" exclaimed Felix.

"In that case we must go forward; but we shall hear the decision in an hour or two."

The Council sat for a considerable time, while we of the Admiral's household discussed the situation among ourselves. There were various opinions given, the older men declaring Monseigneur was too strongly posted to be dislodged, the younger and more hot-headed making light of the danger.

At length the Council broke up, and, though nothing was actually disclosed, we soon became aware that Coligny had resolved on risking a battle.

"Bravo!" said Felix, as we went to our tent, "'twill be a pity if Roche Abeille does not make up for Jarnac!"

The bugle-call roused us at daybreak, and after a hasty breakfast we prepared for the fray. It was a glorious summer morning, with only a few fleecy clouds dotting the blue sky. The country was bathed in sunlight, and the green, leafy foliage of the numerous trees on our left made a delightful picture. The waters of the little stream in our rear danced and sparkled, and the chorus of the birds made wondrous music.

Before long every feathered creature was flying hastily away in amazement and affright.

The army was drawn up in battle array, and the n.o.ble Coligny, serene and confident, rode along the lines.

"Soldiers!" he exclaimed, "the time has come. The enemy are before us.

We must beat them or die. Soldiers, if we lose this battle, the sacred Cause to which we have pledged our lives is overthrown. Our religion will be destroyed, our wives and little ones slain, we ourselves shall go to the prison, the block, or the stake. Soldiers, the safety of the Cause is entrusted to your arms! I know you are worthy of the honour."

A great cheer greeted these stirring words, a cheer that, echoing far and wide, sounded like a haughty challenge of defiance to the foe.

I had little to do but to watch the opening of the battle, and my heart beat fast as De Pilles, a rough and fearless fighter, went forward with his artilery. Almost instantly the excitement became tense.

"He is into the marsh!" cried Felix. "His guns are stuck fast! He cannot get them out! Ah, see, Monseigneur is launching his hors.e.m.e.n at them!"

Down the hill they came in beautiful order, a troop of Italian cavalry, their helmets gleaming, their swords flashing in the sunlight.

"De Pilles is lost!" muttered a man behind me.

"No, no!" cried Felix; "he will beat them off. See, he is forming up his men. Ah, bravo! bravo! Look, there isn't a coward among them!"

With a rush, the Italians swept down on the guns. They were brave men and seasoned fighters, but they came to grief that day. Though their animals floundered in the soft soil they struggled on valiantly; they reached the guns, they wheeled and circled, they struck fierce blows with their glittering blades, but, wherever they rode, there they found a grim and st.u.r.dy opponent.

Back they went for a breathing-s.p.a.ce, and then, with a magnificent charge, once more flung themselves on the handful of gunners. My heart stood still when, for a moment, our gallant few disappeared as if overwhelmed by the waves of a human sea.

A triumphant shout from Felix roused me. The waves had rolled back, broken and shattered, and we raised cheer after cheer as the baffled hors.e.m.e.n slowly climbed the hill. De Pilles had saved his guns, and in Monseigneur's Italian troop there were more than a score of empty saddles. It was a good beginning for us.

The battle now became general. The guns, dragged from the marsh on to firm ground, opened fire against the breastworks, the infantry marched steadily forward, two troops of horse worked round to the right, seeking a favourable place for attack.

But our progress was slow. Monseigneur's troops, fighting with rare vigour and courage, forced us back again and again; their position seemed impregnable, and our men fell fast. Unless we could break through somewhere the battle was lost.

By extreme good fortune, I was close behind the Admiral when he turned his head, seeking a messenger.

"Le Blanc" he cried, courteous as ever, even in the midst of the terrible strife, "ride to De Courcy Lamont, and tell him to charge home.

Tell him that unless he can make a gap for us, the day is lost. And say that the Admiral trusts him."

Bowing low, I spurred my horse sharply, and darted off. Around me rose the din of battle--the thunder of the guns, the savage cries of angry men closely locked in deadly combat. Already Monseigneur's troops were shouting "Victory!" and I had visions of an even more fearful disaster than at Jarnac.

De Courcy Lamont listened to my message with a proud smile on his face.

His troopers were faint and weary; many were more or less seriously wounded; they had lost several of their comrades; but Coligny's words acted like magic.

"The Admiral trusts to us!" said their leader. "Shall we disappoint him?"

"No! no!" they cried; "we will die for the Admiral! Let us charge!"

"I thank you, gentlemen," said De Courcy simply.

It was a desperate enterprise, and would never have been attempted but for the love these gallant men bore to our great chief. For his sake they were going to throw themselves upon death.

"Charge!" Half mad with excitement, I took my place with them, behind De Courcy, who rode several lengths in advance. From a trot to a canter, from a canter to a gallop, and then with one mighty rush we swept down on the foe. A body of horse dashed across our path; we brushed them aside like a handful of chaff, and never slackened pace.