The Queen's instructions were interrupted at this point by the entrance of a page who came to announce that Count Neroweg of Plouernel prayed for admission to the Queen's presence upon pressing and important matters. Catherine ordered the page to introduce the Count, and she bade Anna Bell godspeed, kissing her on the forehead and adding these last instructions:
"Prepare immediately for your journey, my pet. The Count of Plouernel will appoint the guide who is to accompany you. One of my equerries will get a litter ready. I expect to see you again before your departure."
The maid of honor followed the Queen's instructions. Seeing that the interview with the Count of Plouernel lasted longer than she had anticipated, Catherine De Medici was prevented from seeing Anna Bell again, and sent her a note to depart without delay.
Towards one o'clock in the morning the maid of honor mounted in one of the Queen's litters, left the Abbey of St. Severin.
CHAPTER III.
THE AVENGERS OF ISRAEL.
The sun was rising. Its early rays gilded the crest of a forest about a league distant from St. Yrieix, a large burg that served as the center of the Protestant encampment. A chapel, formerly dedicated to St. Hubert by an inveterate hunter, raised its dilapidated walls on the edge of the wood, the skirts of which were now guarded by mounted scouts, posted at long intervals. The chapel had been devastated during the religious wars. Its belfries, the capitals and the friezes of its portico were broken; its windows were smashed in; the statue of St. Hubert, the patron of hunters, lay decapitated in the midst of other debris, along with that of the seigneur who founded the holy shrine, chosen by him for his sepulcher. The fragments of his marble image, representing him lying prone, with hands joined in prayer, hunting horn slung over his shoulder, his favorite greyhound stretched at his feet—all lay strewn around the mortuary vault, now gaping wide open and cumbered with ruins. The interior of the chapel now served as a stable, and also as guardhouse to a picket squad of the Huguenot army, posted at the spot. The pickets' horses, ready saddled and bridled, stood drawn up in double row in one of the low-roofed aisles and on either side of a door that communicated with the old vestry. For want of forage the beasts were eating the green leaves of large bunches of branches thrown at their feet. The riders, either standing, or seated, or stretched out at full length, wrapped in their cloaks, were not dressed in uniform. Their offensive and defensive arms, however, dissimilar and worn, were in usable condition.
This band of Huguenot volunteers took the name of the Avengers of Israel. Josephin, the Franc-Taupin, named by the Catholics "The One-Eyed," was their commander. On all occasions the Avengers of Israel approved themselves animated by an intrepidity that was matchless, always claiming for themselves the post of greatest danger, and always found first in battle. The indomitable courage of the Franc-Taupin, his exceptional skill in guerilla warfare, his pitiless hatred for the papists, upon whom he swore to avenge the fate of his sister Bridget and his niece Hena, earned for him the leadership of these resolute men.
On this day, at sunrise, the commander presided at a species of tribunal consisting of several of his companions in arms, all seated in the midst of the ruins of the chapel of St. Hubert. The years had whitened the hair and beard of the Franc-Taupin, without impairing the fiber of his energy. An old rust-covered steel breastplate over his chest answered the purpose of corselet; his wide hose of red cloth were half covered by a pair of high leather boots heavy with dust; at his belt, which also contained his cartridges, hung a short stick suspended from a piece of pack-thread, and indented with sixteen notches—each tallying the death of a priest or monk. The dagger of fine Milan steel, a present from Odelin, hung on the Franc-Taupin's right side, while at his left he wore a long sword with an iron hilt. The Franc-Taupin's bronzed and haggard features, rendered all the more sinister by the large black patch which covered one eye, were at this moment expressive of sardonic cruelty. He was sitting in judgment upon a Cordelier, a man of tall and robust build, who was captured in the early morning prowling in the forest. Some letters found about his person proved that the tonsured gentleman was a spy of the royalist army, and one of the Avengers of Israel recognized him as one of the monks who took part in the carnage of Mirebeau, where nearly twelve hundred Huguenot prisoners were put to death with frightful refinements of cruelty. Surrounded by several of his companions, who, like himself, were seated upon the ruins of the altar, the Franc-Taupin drew his dagger and was engaged in leisurely sharpening it upon a stone that he held between his knees, without looking at the monk who, livid with rage and terror, and standing a few steps aside with his arms tied behind his back, was uttering maledictions at the top of his voice:
"Accursed and sacrilegious wretches! You abuse your strength! The hand of the Lord will fall heavy upon you! Heretical dogs!"
The Franc-Taupin calmly sharpened his dagger. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Be brave, my reverend! Disgorge your monastic bile! Crack your apostolic hide! It will not make your fate any worse. Be prepared for the worst, and you will still be far behind what I have in store for you. We care nothing for your threats."