IV
It was a dark and stormy evening after a brilliant day; and some time after the cathedral bell had struck the hour of ten, Messire de Landas, commanding the town garrison, was making the round of the city gates.
He had his man, Pierre, with him—a fellow well known to the guard. At the gate of Cantimpré, Messire desired that the bridge be lowered, for he wished to assure himself that everything was as it should be, over on the right bank of the river. Far away to the right and left, the lights of the Duke of Parma's encampment could be distinctly seen. The archers at the gate begged Messire not to venture too far out into the darkness, for the Spanish patrols were very wide-awake, and they were like cats for sighting a man in the dark. But Messire thought it his duty to cross the bridge, and to see if all was well on the other side. He refused to take a bodyguard with him in case the Spanish patrols were on the alert. Messire de Landas was known to be very brave; he preferred to take such risks alone.
Only his man Pierre accompanied him.
The archers kept a sharp look-out. But the night was very dark, a veritable gale was blowing from the south-west, and the driven rain was blinding. Messire crossed the bridge with Pierre, after which the darkness swallowed them both up.
Ten minutes later, the guard at the gate, the archers and gunners, heard the sharp report of two musket shots, following closely upon one another, and coming from over the right bank of the river. Trembling with anxiety, they marvelled if Messire were safe. The sheriff, who had no special orders from the commandant to meet the present eventuality, did not know what to do. He was ready to tear out his hair in an agony of apprehension. Had it not been quite so dark he would have sent out a search-party, for Messire still tarried. But, as it was, his men might fall straight into a guet-apens and be massacred in the gloom, without doing any good to any one. Skilled and able-bodied men were becoming precious assets in Cambray: their lives could not be carelessly jeopardized.
A quarter of an hour of heartrending suspense went by, after which Messire's footstep was suddenly heard upon the bridge. He returned alone. The archers and gunners crowded round him, with the anxious query upon their lips: 'Pierre?'
No one really cared about Pierre. Messire de Landas and his gang were not popular in Cambray. But the incident had been rendered weird and awesome by the darkness and the bad weather, and Messire's obstinacy in venturing out so far.
M. de Landas appeared moody and silent. No doubt he felt responsible for his servant's fate. But he answered the men's questions quite straightforwardly, more fully too and with less brusqueness than was his wont when speaking with subordinates.
'I had my suspicions aroused to-day,' he said, 'by something which our spies reported to me, that the Spaniards contemplated one of their famous surprise attacks under cover of this murky darkness. So I was determined to venture on the Bapaume Road and see if I could discover anything. Pierre insisted on coming with me. We kept our eyes and ears open and crawled along in the ditch on hands and knees. Suddenly we were fired on without any warning. I lay low under cover of the ditch, not moving, hardly breathing, and thought that Pierre was doing likewise. I heard the Spanish patrols move noiselessly away. Then I crept out of my hiding-place, almost surprised at finding myself alive. I called softly to Pierre, but received no answer; then I groped about for him. Presently I found him. He had been shot twice—through the back—and must have died on the instant.'
The story was plausible enough, nor did any one doubt it. The men cared so little about Pierre, who was overbearing and surly. But what had actually happened was vastly different.
It was this—Messire le Marquis de Landas, accompanied by Pierre, had in truth crossed the bridge, and as soon as the darkness had swallowed them up, the two men had walked rapidly along the Bapaume Road, until they were challenged by a Spanish patrol on duty. Messire gave the password, and the patrol not only halted but also stood at attention, for the password which had been given was one used only by Spanish gentlemen of high rank in the King's armies.
'You will conduct my servant at once before His Highness the Duke of Parma,' Messire de Landas said to the man in command of the patrol.
And to Pierre he added in a whisper: 'All that you have to do when you see His Highness is to give him this letter from me and tell him that we are quite prepared for to-morrow.'
He gave Pierre a letter, then ordered the patrol to fire a couple of musket-shots. After which, he waited for a few minutes, and finally returned alone to the city gate.