"Soldiers!" he exclaimed—and I would you could have heard the music of his voice—"your cause is mine. I swear to defend our religion, and to persevere until death or victory has restored us the liberty for which we fight."
Once again the thundering cheers pealed forth, and had Monseigneur but met us that day, I warrant he would not have carried a hundred men with him from the field.
"Your Henry of Beam is a gallant youngster, Edmond," remarked Roger Braund that evening; "I would he had been with us at Jarnac!"
"That might have prevented his being here now!"
"True! On the other hand, his presence might have saved the day. However, he will have an opportunity of showing his mettle. Do we move soon?"
"We are waiting for a body of German foot-soldiers, and for the troops from Languedoc. Directly they arrive, I believe we break camp."
"The sooner the better," said he; "we shall rust out by staying here."
Most of the troops, indeed, had begun to weary of inaction, and when, on the arrival of our reinforcements, Coligny determined to offer battle once more, the whole camp received the news with satisfaction. A great grief had befallen our leader. His brother, the kindly genial Sieur Andelot, whom all men loved, had broken down under the terrible strain, and died at Saintes. It was a terrible blow, but the Admiral sternly repressed his sorrow, counting no sacrifice too great for the success of the Cause.
We marched out from the camp at Niort, twenty-five thousand strong, all in good spirits, and all placing the most implicit trust in our gallant leader. The dead Condé's troops were especially eager for the fray, and as they mounted and rode off, the words "Remember Jarnac!" passed from man to man. It was a watchword that boded ill for their opponents.
From day to day our scouts brought in word of the royal forces. They outnumbered us by several thousands, but that did not damp our ardour; in spite of Jarnac, we felt that we were marching to victory.