"Thou! Thou my brother?"
I turned upon him a look of incredulous contempt, yet, for I had heard some such tale of my father's youth, I asked:
"Thy mother was—?"
"Nanon Esculas, whom thy father abducted in Spain to desert in France."
"My heart sank; I had seen the woman, and knew her son for one of the most courageous and unprincipled adventurers who hung about the Court and held their swords for hire. When the noisy troop rode up to the gates of Cartillon their leader paused, a head appeared upon the battlements.
"Guise," cried Ortez, giving the watchword of that day of slaughter. The drawbridge lowered, and open swung the gates.
"Welcome to Cartillon, d'Artin," Ortez bowed. "Here at last we find rest and refreshment. Let a feast be spread in the great hall, ransack the place for good cheer. We've done brave work this glorious day, my lads, and a merry ending we'll have before the night is gone."
Everywhere in the courtyard were evidences of bloody conflict. Singly, in groups and in hideous crimson-splashed piles lay Catholics and Huguenots together, peaceful enough in death.
"By my faith, and a gallant set of gentlemen we have here," laughed Ortez. "What think you, brother mine?"
And even as he spoke he leaned from his saddle to strike down a half dying wretch who lifted his head from among the slain.