“Jarnichien!” he shouted. “Hung like a pirate or a Marane! Par la Pâque Dieu! It is a stain upon the honor—not of Coligny—but of France! These Spaniards think that this New World was made only for themselves and that no other living man has a right to move or breathe there!”
“Would even that justify the murder of French women and children, my General?” returned the Chevalier keenly.
“La Dogue! I should say, no! You were gentlemen of France with a patent from your King to settle in this Terre aux Bretons, which is as much the property of France as of Spain.”
“Since this Colomb first set foot upon the land the Spanish claim it all. Menendez has said it.”
“And that all others are Moors or piratos, to have their throats slit like hogs or be hung like thieves? Ah! perhaps even in Spain there is justice for such Generals as Menendez de Avilés! This is the King’s quarrel, mes garçons, not yours. Forquevaulx is our Ambassador to Madrid. I know him well. We have fought side by side in siege and field. He too is a soldier and knows what a soldier’s death, as well as his life, should be. This is murder—assassination, I tell you—of the foulest kind! Done openly, and not even Philip of Spain could countenance it. Forquevaulx shall demand the degradation of this man.”
He paused, out of breath and countenance from rapid speaking. Here truly was a friend indeed; we had not counted upon such a valiant partisan.
“The Admiral shall know of these facts at once. I will go to him—or better—he shall come to me. The Hôtel de Châtillon and the Louvre have ears and my house is my fortress, mes garçons, where all obey me. There are no spies here.”
When he had composed himself, he sat and addressed a letter to Coligny, acquainting him with our arrival and asking him to come secretly under the cover of night. The publicity of an audience at the Hôtel de Châtillon could thus be avoided and M. de Teligny did not doubt that, in view of the importance of the matter, the Admiral would come with all haste.
The Chevalier de Brésac was tireless. He worked with a nervous energy which was most astonishing in one of his slender frame. For my part I was glad enough to seek some rest; for my ride of many miles upon the back of a horse, my first journey of the kind for years, had made me more stiff and sore than when I had fought Don Diego de Baçan. Goddard had long since been put to bed below stairs. While I lay upon a couch, De Brésac wrote steadily; seeking to place on record, in some sort of order, the argument and statement of the case for the Admiral. As he had aroused Henri de Teligny, so he hoped to arouse Coligny; though from what I knew of the man I had little thought that this would be hard to do.
That night the Chevalier de Brésac repeated our story to Gaspard de Coligny. The great Admiral had thrown off his mask and cloak and sat in a straight high-backed chair before the fire. He was dressed solemnly enough in a suit of black, with boots and slashed trunks. He wore a rolling collar or kind of ruff; and a gold chain of fine workmanship, the symbol of his rank, hung about his neck and down his doublet. In stature he was tall, though he seemed less so by reason of his head being somewhat bowed in thought. His forehead was lofty and wrinkled, but marked rather by the weather than by the ravages of time. His hair was plentiful but was cut short, standing straight upon his head. A pointed white beard fell down upon his breast. His hands grasped the straight arms of the chair as he looked forward into the fire. His eyes, though clear and alert like those of a hawk and seeming to look not at but through, had yet an expression of sadness rather than severity. The light of the fire, which was thrown up from below, shone upon the cheek-bones and marked the deeper the hollows below. At one corner of the mouth was a great scar half-hidden by the mustache—a relic of Montcontour—which made him to appear still more gaunt and hollow-eyed. It was the face of a keen, daring man, but not that of a cruel or even a vengeful one.