IV
On the last day of July, Gilles de Crohin had his forces ready, equipped, armed, provisioned, at La Fère, where Marguerite de Navarre came herself in order to wish him and the expedition God speed.
But Monsieur—who had promised, nay sworn, he would come too, in order to take command in person at the last, when victory was assured—Monsieur had not arrived.
For two sennights the devoted sister and the faithful friend waited for him; but he did not come. Marguerite sent courier upon courier after him to Paris, but he evaded them all, and at one time nobody knew where he had hidden himself. To his other vices and failings, this descendant of a once noble race had added the supreme act of a coward. What that final weary waiting meant for Gilles, not even a veracious chronicler can describe. With Cambray almost in sight, with the Spanish armies not two leagues away, with his Jacqueline enduring every horror and every misery which the aching heart of an absent lover can conjure up before his tortured mind, he was forced to remain in idleness, eating out his heart in regret, remorse and longing, doubtful as to what the future might bring, tortured even with the fear that, mayhap, in Cambray only a flower-covered mound of earth would mark the spot where his Jacqueline slept the last sleep of eternal rest.
Then at last, upon the fourteenth day of August, a letter came by runner from Monsieur, for the Queen of Navarre. It had been written in Paris more than a week ago, and obviously had been purposely delayed. It began with many protestations of good-will, of love for his sister and of confidence in his friend. Then the letter went on in a kind of peevish strain:
'I am quite convinced, My dear sister, that I am altogether unfit for the kind of attack which the present Situation demands. Now Gilles has a great deal more Energy than I have, and a great deal more Knowledge. As you know, I never had any longing for military Glory, and feel absolutely no desire to make a State Entry into Cambray with a swarm of starved or diseased Flemings hanging to my stirrup-leathers. Let Gilles to all that. He seems to have had a liking for that unsavoury Crowd. Then, by and by, if the Spaniards, in the meanwhile, do not frustrate his Designs by giving him a beating, I shall be ready to take up once more the negotiations for my proposed Sovereignty of the Netherlands. But understand, My dear Sister, that this happy Event must come to pass without the co-operation of a Flemish bride. Frankly, I have no liking for the Race, and would be jeopardising My whole Future, by selling Myself to the first Dutch wench that an untoward Fate would throw in My way. Entre nous, Elizabeth of England has not been so haughty with Me of late. Get Me that Kingdom of the Netherlands by all means, My dear. I verily believe that this accrued Dignity would ensure the favourable Acceptance of My suit by the English Queen.'
Marguerite had never made any secret before Gilles of her brother's perfidy. Even this infamous letter she placed loyally before him now. When he had finished reading it and she saw the look of measureless contempt which flashed through his eyes, she could have cried with shame and misery.
'What to do, Messire?' she exclaimed piteously. 'Oh, my God! what to do?'
'Relieve Cambray first and foremost, Madame,' he replied firmly. 'After that, we shall see.'
'But the Flemish lords!' she rejoined. 'Their anger! Their contempt! I could not bear it, Messire! The shame of it all will kill me!'
'It has got to be borne, Madame! Cambray has suffered enough. It is our turn now.'
Nor would he discuss the matter any further, even with her. The expedition had been entrusted to his hands, and nothing would delay him now. Cambray was waiting and starving, every hour might mean her final surrender. The Spanish commander—apprised of Monsieur le Duc d'Anjou's arrival with a strong force—had already offered battle. Gilles was only too eager to accept the issue.
On the fifteenth day of August, 1581, that battle was fought on the plains outside Cambray. The issue was never in doubt for one moment. Le Carpentier asserts that the Duke of Parma, after six hours' stubborn fighting, surrendered his position and all his forts and retired in great haste in the direction of Valenciennes.