Clash of Arms: A Romance

by John Bloundelle-Burton

From Hagenau and Saverne there is a road which, winding sometimes between vineyards and cornfields, and sometimes over billowy plains on which little enough can be made to grow by the Rhinelanders, arrives at last at the River Breusch, and so enters Holtzheim.

It was along this road that Turenne's army had marched a fortnight or three weeks before, and had found the Imperialists encamped between that village and the somewhat larger one of Entzheim; along it once more, as the late October winds blew down the leaves on to the rain-sodden earth below, Andrew Vause was travelling now. Only, he was riding his favourite horse instead of marching on foot with the company of "The Royal English Regiment," to which he had been assigned, and, instead of being accoutred as a soldier he was dressed as an ordinary traveller. Yet, as became a traveller of that day, and in such a locality--for Strasbourg was but a league or so off, and under its protection the Austrians and all their following of petty German princelings were encamped--Andrew was well armed. His sword made music against his horse's flank and his left spur as he rode, his holsters had each a pistol in them, and on his shoulders was a small "back-and-breast," which his cloak, drawn tightly round him, now hid from view.

His second search for De Bois-Vallée had begun!

It was not difficult for him to be thus at liberty to continue that search; the contending armies had gone into winter quarters and, beyond watching each other's movements carefully, expected to have no more encounters until the spring, wherefore leave was granted freely. Already Churchill was on his road back to St. James's and the allurements of the court, as well as to the petulance of the woman he loved so dearly and by whom he was teased so cruelly; many of his regiment were also on their way home, numerous French officers were making for Paris--and Andrew was returning to Entzheim. For from that place, from the spot outside the Little Wood where last he had seen the man he sought, and had witnessed the look of terror that came upon his countenance at Debrasques' words, he intended to seek for the clue--nay, he intended to find and take up the clue!--which should finally bring him face to face and point to point with De Bois-Vallée again.

"For," he had said to his friend as he parted with him, and after all arrangements had been made for his comfort and well-being that were possible in such a place and in the circumstances, "For be very sure I shall find him, Valentin. Be sure of that! Even though I have to track him half over Europe, even though he should take refuge in your mother's house in Paris, still he shall not escape me."

Yet, as he spoke and gazed down at the wounded man, he saw that the latter place, at least, would not be sought as a shelter by De Bois-Vallée. The Marquis's eyes told him that, as plainly as, heretofore, they had told him so much else.

Whereby, seeing that glance, Andrew knew that he would not have to return to Paris to find his quarry.

"No matter," he said. "No matter. I shall find him. Alone and unaided I shall. Also I will find her. Then I shall know all. All, until we meet once more, and you shall be well enough--as I pray God!--to tell me in your own words that I have guessed aright. Farewell, my boy."

And so he went on his way after a tender parting with the youth he had come to love since the first night when he saved him from the thieves in Paris, and after, also, he had made his adieux to Turenne and several old and new comrades.

He drew near the wooden bridge that, crossing the Breusch, led into Holtzheim, as the October evening set in dark and lowering, and with great clouds coming up in the heavens from far down in the south, and he knew that in this village he must find some shelter for the night if possible. Yet he knew also that it would be a poor shelter at the best, even if anyone in it was able to receive him, since it had suffered considerably from its vicinity to the late battle. Indeed, some of the houses had been struck by the cannon balls fired from the Little Wood, and Turenne's troops had denuded it of food, wine, and forage. Still, either here or at Entzheim, he must obtain what he required; it would be impossible that he could gain admission to Strasbourg.