"Never!" answered D'Aubin, with a laugh: "but now, good Sir Albert, as night is falling, and we shall not reach St. Andre before midnight, I think we had better fall back to our men, and throw out some scouts. Not that I fear surprise; for as Mayenne is between us and the enemy, it would be strange to meet with a foe before we rejoin our friends. 'Tis as well, however, always to hold one's self prepared."
The views of the leader of the reitters perfectly coincided in this cautious doctrine; and D'Aubin and his companion, slackening their pace, suffered the head of their corps to come up with them. Arrangements were then made for a night march; and the sun went down ere they had proceeded far, bursting forth for a moment as he touched the edge of the horizon, and dyeing the heavy clouds that rolled around him with a dull and misty red. The clock struck nine as the Count and his forces entered the little village of Gross[oe]uvre; and the leaders, riding forward to the old chateau, were welcomed with kindness and hospitality by the ancestors of my poor friend, the gallant and chivalrous De Vitermont, one of the noble and generous hearts of France, who, after having shed his blood, and lost health and comfort in defence of his country, could still hold out the hand of friendship and affection to those who had smitten him so severely, but who were enemies no more.
So good was the wine, so hospitable the hearth at which he sat, that Albert of Wolfstrom, with the true love of a soldier of fortune for comfortable quarters, would fain have delayed the farther march till morning, alleging that the horses and men were both fatigued, and could just as well proceed an hour or two before daylight as at that late hour of the night. D'Aubin, however, would not hear of delay; well knowing of how much importance it is to bring troops fresh into the field, rather than wearied with a long march. Determined, therefore, that whatever rest the soldiers obtained should be as near the expected field of battle as possible, at eleven o'clock he caused the trumpets to sound; and shortly after the troops were once more on their march towards the small town of Ivry, at which place the Duke of Mayenne was now ascertained to be. A circuitous route, however, was necessarily followed through the great plain which lies between Pacy and St. Andre, as the latter place was understood to be occupied by the forces of the king. Sure guides had been obtained, indeed, at Gross[oe]uvre, and much were they needed, for the night was as dark as the mouth of Acheron; and not a ray found its way through the black covering of clouds to mark the road from the fields amongst which it wound. The air was calm and still; and no sound was to be heard except the occasional howling of the wolves, which were then frequent, and are not now uncommon, in the many woods which diversify that part of the country. Instead of bringing additional chilliness to the atmosphere, however, the night had become warm, and was growing more and more sultry as it advanced; and every now and then the wind, as if struggling to rise against some oppressive burden in the sky, came with a momentary gust of hot breath, which instantly fell again, and all was still.
"It will turn to rain!" said D'Aubin, speaking to Wolfstrom, who rode beside him; "it has grown too hot for snow."
"No, no, noble Sir!" replied the old man who walked beside D'Aubin's bridle-rein, to show him the way; "that which you feel is the hot breath of the battle coming up! They will fight to-morrow, that is certain! When I served with the Great Duke, we never felt a night like this, without being sure that there would be bloody work the next morning, whether we expected it before or not."
"Indeed!" said D'Aubin; but as he spoke, a slight momentary flash played along the verge of the far sky, showing, for the brief instant that it lasted, the plain and the woods around, and then leaving all blank and dark once more.
"Ay, that's always the way," said the old man; "the spirits of the two armies are trying to-night which will have the victory to-morrow. We shall hear more of it soon."
Several minutes, however, elapsed without his prophecy being verified; and D'Aubin began to fancy, that what he had at first supposed to be a flash of lightning had proceeded from the discharge of some distant gun, the report of which had escaped his ear; when again a broad blaze illumined the sky, and a clap of thunder, resembling the discharge of a whole park of artillery, echoed and re-echoed through the air. Then came another pause; but the moment after appeared a spectacle which--if it had not been seen by the unimaginative Sully, and the keen and inquiring eyes of D'Avila the historian, as well as those of every other person then awake in either host,--might well have passed for a superstitious fable. The sky became suddenly in a blaze with flickering lightning, which scarcely left it for a moment in darkness; while in the midst appeared forms of fire, like those of mounted horsemen and charging squadrons. Shifting, advancing, wheeling, now meeting in impetuous shock, now mingled in the confusion of the mêlée, now broken and scattered, now fleeing, now rallied, the aerial combatants acted in the clouds the fierce drama of a hard-contested field of battle before the eyes of the astonished soldiers. For some minutes an uncommanded halt took place; the soldiers gazed upon the blazing sky with eyes of wonder and terror; several of the horses started from the ranks, and were only brought back by skill and strength; and then stood with foaming hides and distended nostrils, straining their eyes, with their riders, on the bright but fearful phenomenon above them. Still that strange warfare in the sky seemed to go on, while the thunder rolled around in one incessant peal; and gradually shaking off the first effects of terror, the soldiery began to take an interest in the scene, worked up their imaginations to the belief that the combat was real. So complete at length was the illusion, that when the phantom army appeared defeated by their adversaries, and the forms that composed it were driven over the sky in confusion, the trumpeter of the horsemen of Aubin instinctively put his clarion to his lips, and blew a rally. The Count took advantage of the incident to give the word to march; and turning to Albert of Wolfstrom, as he spurred on his horse, exclaimed, "In truth, in truth, this is very strange!"
The troops followed their commander in some disarray; but ere they reached the edge of the upland the pageant had passed away, and all was darkness, except when an occasional flash of lightning broke for an instant across the sky.[[5]]