CHAPTER LXII.
PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE
The camp of the new Duke of Brabant was situated on the banks of the Scheldt, and the army, although well disciplined, was agitated by a spirit easy to understand.
Indeed, many Calvinists assisted the duke, not from sympathy for him, but in order to be as disagreeable as possible to Spain and to the Catholics of France and England; they fought rather from self-love than from conviction or devotion, and it was certain that, the campaign once over, they would abandon their leader or impose conditions on him. With regard to these conditions, the duke always gave them to understand that when the time came he should be ready, and was constantly saying, "Henri of Navarre made himself a Catholic, why should not I become a Huguenot?" On the opposite side, on the contrary, there existed a perfect unity of feeling. Antwerp had intended to give entrance to him, at her own time and on her own conditions.
All at once they saw a fleet appear at the mouth of the Scheldt, and they learned that this fleet was brought by the high admiral of France, to aid the Duc d'Anjou, whom they now began to look upon as their enemy. The Calvinists of the duke were little better pleased than the Flemings at the sight. They were very brave, but very jealous: and they did not wish others to come and clip their laurels, particularly swords which had slain so many Huguenots on the day of the St. Bartholomew. From this proceeded many quarrels, which began on the very evening of their arrival, and continued all the next day.
From their ramparts, the Antwerpians had every day the spectacle of a dozen duels between Catholics and Protestants; and they threw into the river as many dead as a combat might have cost the French. If the siege of Antwerp, like that of Troy, had lasted nine years, the besieged need have done nothing but look at the assailants, who would certainly have destroyed themselves. Francois acted the part of mediator, but not without great difficulty; he had made promises to the Huguenots, and could not offend them without offending at the same time all Flanders. On the other hand, to offend the Catholics sent by the king to aid him would be most impolitic. The arrival of this re-enforcement, on which the duke himself had not reckoned, filled the Spaniards and the Guises with rage. However, all these different opinions interfered sadly with the discipline of the duke's army. Joyeuse, who we know had never liked the mission, was annoyed to find among these men such antagonistic opinions, and felt instinctively that the time for success was past, and both as an idle courtier and as a captain, grumbled at having come so far only to meet with defeat. He declared loudly that the Duc d'Anjou had been wrong in laying siege to Antwerp, and argued that to possess a great city with its own consent was a real advantage; but that to take by assault the second capital of his future states was to expose himself to the dislike of the Flemings; and Joyeuse knew the Flemings too well not to feel sure that if the duke did take Antwerp, sooner or later they would revenge themselves with usury. This opinion Joyeuse did not hesitate to declare in the duke's tent.
While the council was held among his captains, the duke was lying on a couch and listening, not to the advice of the admiral, but to the whispers of Aurilly. This man, by his cowardly compliances, his base flatteries, and his continual assiduities, had secured the favor of the prince. With his lute, his love messages, and his exact information about all the persons and all the intrigues of the court – with his skillful maneuvers for drawing into the prince's net whatever prey he might wish for, he had made a large fortune, while he remained to all appearance the poor luteplayer. His influence was immense, because it was secret.
Joyeuse, seeing the duke talking to Aurilly, stopped short. The duke, who had, after all, been paying more attention than he seemed to do, asked him what was the matter. "Nothing, monseigneur; I am only waiting until your highness is at liberty to listen to me."
"Oh! but I do listen, M. de Joyeuse. Do you think I cannot listen to two people at once, when Cæsar dictated seven letters at a time?"
"Monseigneur," said Joyeuse, with a glance at the musician, "I am no singer to need an accompaniment when I speak."
"Very good, duke; be quiet, Aurilly. Then you disapprove of a coup de main on Antwerp?" – "Yes, monseigneur."
"I adopted this plan in council, however."
"Therefore, monseigneur, I speak with much hesitation, after so many distinguished captains."
And Joyeuse, courtier-like, bowed to all. Many voices were instantly raised to agree with the admiral.
"Comte de St. Aignan," said the prince to one of his bravest colonels, "you are not of the opinion of M. de Joyeuse?"
"Yes, monseigneur, I am."
"Oh! I thought as you made a grimace – "
Every one laughed but Joyeuse, who said, "If M. de St. Aignan generally gives his advice in that manner, it is not very polite, that is all."
"M. de Joyeuse," replied St. Aignan, "his highness is wrong to reproach me with an infirmity contracted in his service. At the taking of Cateau-Cambresis I received a blow on the head, and since that time my face is subject to nervous contractions, which occasion those grimaces of which his highness complains. This is not an excuse that I give you, M. de Joyeuse; it is an explanation," said the count, proudly.
"No, monsieur," said Joyeuse, "it is a reproach that you make, and you are right."
The blood mounted to the face of Duc Francois.
"And to whom is this reproach addressed?" said he.
"To me, probably, monseigneur."
"Why should St. Aignan reproach you, whom he does not know?"
"Because I believed for a moment that M. de St. Aignan cared so little for your highness as to counsel you to assault Antwerp."
"But," cried the prince, "I must settle my position in the country. I am Duke of Brabant and Count of Flanders, in name, and I must be so in reality. This William, who is gone I know not where, spoke to me of a kingdom. Where is this kingdom? – in Antwerp. Where is he? – probably in Antwerp also; therefore we must take Antwerp, and we shall know how we stand."
"Oh! monseigneur, you know it now, or you are, in truth, a worse politician than I thought you. Who counseled you to take Antwerp? – the Prince of Orange. Who disappeared at the moment of taking the field? – the Prince of Orange. Who, while he made your highness Duke of Brabant, reserved for himself the lieutenant-generalship of the duchy? – the Prince of Orange. Whose interest is it to ruin the Spaniards by you, and you by the Spaniards? – the Prince of Orange. Who will replace you, who will succeed, if he does not do so already? – the Prince of Orange? Oh! monseigneur, in following his counsels you have but annoyed the Flemings. Let a reverse come, and all those who do not dare to look you now in the face will run after you like those timid dogs who run after those who fly."
"What! you imagine that I can be beaten by wool-merchants and beer-drinkers?"
"These wool-merchants and these beer-drinkers have given plenty to do to Philippe de Valois, the Emperor Charles V., and Philippe II., who were three princes placed sufficiently high, monseigneur, for the comparison not to be disagreeable to you."
"Then you fear a repulse?"
"Yes, monseigneur, I do."
"You will not be there, M. de Joyeuse."
"Why not?"
"Because you can hardly have such doubts of your own bravery as already to see yourself flying before the Flemings. In any case, reassure yourself, these prudent merchants have the habit, when they march to battle, of cumbering themselves with such heavy armor that they would never catch you if you did run."
"Monseigneur, I do not doubt my own courage. I shall be in the front, but I shall be beaten there, as the others who are behind will be."
"But your reasoning is not logical, M. de Joyeuse; you approve of my taking the lesser places."
"I approve of your taking those that do not defend themselves."
"And then I am to draw back from the great city because she talks of defending herself?"
"Better than to march on to destruction."
"Well, I will not retreat."
"Your highness must do as you like; and we are here to obey."
"Prove to me that I am wrong."
"Monseigneur, see the army of the Prince of Orange. It was yours, was it not? Well, instead of sitting down before Antwerp with you, it is in Antwerp, which is very different. William, you say, was your friend and counselor; and now you not only do not know where he is, but you believe him to be changed into an enemy. See the Flemings – when you arrived they were pleased to see you; now they shut their gates at your sight, and prepare their cannon at your approach, not less than if you were the Duc d'Alva. Well! I tell you, Flemings and Dutch, Antwerp and Orange, only wait for an opportunity to unite against you, and that opportunity will be when you order your artillery to fire."
"Well, we will fight at once Flemings and Dutch, Antwerp and Orange."
"No, monseigneur, we have but just men enough to attack Antwerp, supposing we have only the inhabitants to deal with; and while we are engaged in the assault, William will fall on us with his eternal eight or ten thousand men, always destroyed and always reappearing by the aid of which be has kept in check during ten or twelve years the Duc d'Alva, Requesens, and the Duc de Parma."
"Then you persist in thinking that we shall be beaten?"
"I do."
"Well, it is easy for you to avoid it, M. de Joyeuse," said the prince angrily; "my brother sent you here to aid me, but I may dismiss you, saying that I do not need aid."
"Your highness may say so, but I would not retire on the eve of a battle."
"Well, my dear admiral," said the duke, trying to conciliate, "I may have been too jealous of the honor of my name, and wished too much to prove the superiority of the French army, and I may have been wrong. But the evil is done; we are before armed men – before men who now refuse what they themselves offered. Am I to yield to them? To-morrow they would begin to retake, bit by bit, what I have already conquered. No! the sword is drawn; let us strike, or they will strike first. That is my opinion."
"When your highness speaks thus," said Joyeuse, "I will say no more. I am here to obey you, and will do so with all my heart, whether you lead me to death or victory; and yet – but I will say no more." – "Speak."
"No, I have said enough."
"No, I wish to hear."
"In private then, if it please your highness."
All rose and retired to the other end of the spacious tent.
"Speak," said Francois.
"Monseigneur may care little for a check from Spain, a check which will render triumphant those drinkers of Flemish beer, or this double-faced Prince of Orange; but will you bear so patiently the laughter of M. de Guise?"
Francois frowned.
"What has M. de Guise to do with it?" said he.
"M. de Guise tried to have you assassinated, monseigneur; Salcede confessed it at the torture, and, if I mistake not, he plays a great part in all this, and he will be delighted to see you receive a check before Antwerp, or even perhaps to obtain, for nothing, that death of a son of France, for which he had promised to pay so dearly to Salcede. Read the history of Flanders, monseigneur, and you will see that the Flemings are in the habit of enriching their soil with the blood of princes, and of the best French warriors."
The duke shook his head.
"Well, Joyeuse," said he, "I will give, if it must be, the cursed joy to the Lorraines of seeing me dead, but not that of seeing me flying. I thirst for glory, Joyeuse; for alone of all my name, I have still my battles to win."
"You forget Cateau Cambresis, monseigneur."
"Compare that with Jarnac and Montcontour, Joyeuse." Then, turning to the others, who were standing far off, he said, "Gentlemen, the assault is still resolved on; the rain has ceased, the ground is good, we will make the attack this night." Joyeuse bowed.
"Will your highness give full directions? we wait for them," said he.
"You have eight vessels, without counting the admiral's ship, have you not, M. de Joyeuse?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"You will force the line; the thing will be easy, the Antwerpians have only merchant vessels in the port; then you will bring them to bear upon the fort. Then, if the quay is defended, you will attempt a landing with your 1,500 men. Of the rest of the army I will make two columns: one commanded by M. de St. Aignan, the other by myself. Both will attempt an escalade by surprise, at the moment when the first cannon-shot is fired.
"The cavalry will remain in position, in case of a repulse, to protect the retreating columns. Of these three attacks, one must surely succeed. The first column which gains the ramparts will fire a rocket to let the others know."
"But one must think of everything, monseigneur," said Joyeuse; "and supposing all three attacks should fail?"
"Then we must gain the vessels under the protection of our batteries."
All bowed.
"Now, gentlemen, silence," said the duke; "wake the sleeping troops, and embark; but let not a shot reveal our design. You will be in the port, admiral, before the Antwerpians suspect your intention. We shall go along the left bank, and shall arrive at the same time as yourself. Go, gentlemen, and good courage; our former good luck will not fail to follow us over the Scheldt."
The captains quitted the prince's tent, and gave their orders with the indicated precautions.
CHAPTER LXIII.
MONSEIGNEUR
However, the Antwerpians did not quietly see the hostile preparations of the Duc d'Anjou, and Joyeuse was not wrong in attributing to them all the enmity possible. Antwerp was like a beehive at night, calm on the exterior, but within full of movement and murmur.
The Flemings in arms patroled the streets, barricaded their houses, and fraternized with the battalions of the Prince of Orange, of whom part were already in garrison there, while the other part entered the city in fractions.
When all was ready for a vigorous defense, the Prince of Orange, on a dark and moonless night, entered the city quietly, and went to the Hotel de Ville, where his confidants had everything ready for his reception. There he received all the deputies of the bourgeoisie, passed in review the officers of the paid troops, and communicated his plans to them, the chief of which was to profit by this movement of the Duc d'Anjou to break with him. The duke had done just what William wished to bring him to, and he saw with pleasure this new competitor for the sovereignty ruin himself, like so many others.
William would have taken the offensive, but the governor objected, and determined to wait for the arrival of monseigneur.
Nine o'clock in the evening sounded, and the uncertainty became real anxiety, some scouts having protested that they had seen a movement in the French camp. A little flat boat had been sent on the Scheldt to reconnoiter, for the Antwerpians were less unquiet as to what would occur by land than by sea; but the bark had not returned. William became more and more impatient, when the door of the hall opened, and a valet appeared and announced "Monseigneur." As he spoke, a man, tall and imperious-looking, wearing with supreme grace the cloak which entirely enveloped him, entered the hall, and saluted courteously those who were there. But at the first glance, his eye, proud and piercing, sought out the prince in the midst of his officers.
He went straight up to him and offered him his hand, which the prince pressed with affection, and almost with respect.
They called each other "Monseigneur." After this the unknown took off his cloak. He was dressed in a buff doublet, and had high leather boots; he was armed with a long sword, which seemed to make part of himself, so easily it hung, and with a little dagger, which was passed through his belt. His boots were covered with mud and dust, and his spurs were red with the blood of his horse. He took his place at the table.
"Well, where are we?" asked he.
"Monseigneur," replied William, "you must have seen, in coming here, that the streets were barricaded."
"I saw that."
"And the houses loopholed?"
"I did not see that; but it is a good plan."
"And the sentries doubled?"
"Does not monseigneur approve of these preparations for defense?" said a voice, in a tone of anxious disappointment.
"Yes; but, however, I do not believe that in our circumstances it will be useful; it fatigues the soldier and disquiets the bourgeois. You have a plan of attack and defense, I suppose?"
"We waited to communicate them to monseigneur," said the burgomaster.
"Speak then."
"Monseigneur arrived rather late, and I was obliged to act meanwhile," said William.
"And you did right, monseigneur; besides, whatever you do, you do well. But I have not lost my time on the road, either."
"We know by our spies," said the burgomaster, "that a movement is preparing in the French camp; they are making ready for an attack, but as we do not know on which side it will come, we have disposed the guns so that they may be equally distributed over the whole rampart."
"That is wise," replied the unknown, with a slight smile to William, who held his tongue, and let the bourgeois speak of war.
"We have done the same with our civic guards; they are spread over the whole wall, and have orders to run at once to the point of attack. However, it is the opinion of the greater number of our members that it is impossible that the French meditate anything but a feigned attack."
"And what purpose would that serve?"
"To intimidate us, and induce us to admit them amicably."
The stranger looked again at the Prince of Orange, who listened to all this in the most careless manner, which almost amounted to disdain.
"However," said another voice, "some fancied they could distinguish preparations for attack in the camp this evening."
"Mere suspicions," said the burgomaster; "I examined the camp myself with an excellent spy-glass. The men were preparing for sleep, and the duke was dining in his tent."
The unknown threw a new glance at the prince, and fancied that this time he gave a slight smile.
"Gentlemen," said the unknown, "you are in error; a regular assault is preparing against you, and your plans, however good, are incomplete."
"But, monseigneur – "
"Incomplete in this, that you expect an attack, and have prepared to meet it."
"Certainly."
"Well, it is you who will make the attack, not wait for it, if you will trust to me." – "Ah!" cried William, "that is something like speaking."
"At this moment," said the stranger, who saw that he might reckon on the prince's support, "the ships of M. de Joyeuse are getting ready."
"How do you know that, monseigneur?" cried many voices together.
"I know it," replied he.
A murmur of doubt was half uttered, but the stranger caught it.
"Do you doubt it?" asked he, in the tone of a man accustomed to control all fears, prejudices, and self-loves.
"We do not doubt it if your highness says it; but if you will permit us to observe – "
"Speak."
"That if it were so we should have had tidings of it."
"How so?" – "By our spies."
CHAPTER LXIV.
MONSEIGNEUR
At this moment another man entered the hall, and came forward respectfully.
"Ah! it is you, my friend," said the burgomaster.
"Myself, monsieur," replied the man.
"Monseigneur," said the burgomaster, "it is the man whom we sent to reconnoiter."
At the word "monseigneur," addressed not to the Prince of Orange, the new comer made a movement of surprise and joy, and advanced quickly to see better who was designated by this title. He was one of those Flemish sailors, of whom the type is so recognizable, being marked, a square head, blue eyes, short neck, and broad shoulders; he crushed in his large hands his woolen cap, and as he advanced he left behind him a line of wet, for his clothes were dripping with water.
"Oh! here is a brave man who has swum back," said monseigneur, looking at the man with his accustomed air of authority.
"Yes, monseigneur, yes; and the Scheldt is broad and rapid," said the sailor, eagerly.
"Speak, Goes, speak," said monseigneur, knowing how a sailor would prize being thus called by his name.
Thus from that minute Goes addressed himself to the unknown exclusively; although, having been sent by another, it was to him that he should have given an account of his mission.
"Monseigneur," said he, "I set out in my smallest bark and passed, by giving the word, through all our ships, and reached those cursed French. Ah! pardon, monseigneur."
The stranger smiled and said, "Never mind, I am but half French, so should be but half cursed."
"Then monseigneur pardons me?"
He nodded, and Goes went on.
"While I rowed in the dark with my oars wrapped in cloth, I heard a voice crying, 'Hola! bark, what do you want?' I thought it was to me that the question was addressed, and was about to reply something or other, when I heard some one cry behind me, 'Admiral's boat.'"
Monseigneur looked at the council.
"At the same moment," continued Gues, "I felt a shock; my bark was swamped, and I fell into the water, but the waves of the Scheldt knew me for an old acquaintance, and threw me up again. It was the admiral's boat taking M. de Joyeuse on board, and which had passed over me; God only knows how I was not crushed or drowned."
"Thanks, brave Goes, thanks," said the Prince of Orange, putting a purse into his hand. However, the sailor seemed to wait for his dismissal from the stranger, who gave him a friendly nod, which he valued more than the prince's present.
"Well," said monseigneur to the burgomaster, "what do you say of this report? Do you still doubt that the French are preparing, and do you believe that it was to pass the night on board that M. de Joyeuse was leaving the camp for his ship?"
"But you are a diviner, then, monseigneur," cried the bourgeois.
"Not more than Monseigneur the Prince of Orange, who is in all things of my opinion, I am sure. But I, like him, was well informed, and know well those on the other side, so that I should have been much astonished had they not attacked to-night. Then be ready, gentlemen, for if you give them time, the attack will be serious."
"These gentlemen will do me the justice to own," said the prince, "that before your arrival I held exactly the same language to them that you now do."
"But," said the burgomaster, "why does monseigneur believe that the attack is about to commence?"
"Here are the probabilities. The infantry is Catholic; it will fight alone; that is, on one side. The cavalry is Calvinist; they will fight alone on another side. The navy is under M. de Joyeuse, from Paris, who will take his share of the combat and the glory. That is three sides."
"Then let us form three corps," said the burgomaster.
"Make only one, gentlemen, with all your best soldiers, and leave any of whom you may be doubtful in close fight to guard your walls. Then with this body make a vigorous sally when Francois least expects it. They mean to attack; let them be forestalled, and attacked themselves. If you wait for their assault you are lost, for no one equals the French at an attack, as you, gentlemen, have no equals at defending your towns."
The Flemings looked radiant.
"What did I say, gentlemen?" said William.
"It is a great honor," said the unknown, "to have been, without knowing it, of the same opinion as the greatest captain of the age."
Both bowed courteously.
"Then," continued the unknown, "it is settled: you will make a furious sortie on the infantry and cavalry. I trust that your officers will so conduct it as to defeat your enemies."
"But their vessels?" cried the burgomaster. "The wind is northeast, and they will be in our city in two hours."
"You have yourselves six old ships and thirty boats at St. Marie; that is a mile off, is it not? That is your maritime barricade across the Scheldt."
"Yes, monseigneur, that is so. How do you know all these details?"
Monseigneur smiled.
"I know them, as you see; it is there that lies the fate of the battle."
"Then," said the burgomaster, "we must send aid to our brave seamen."
"On the contrary, you may dispose otherwise of the 400 men who are there; twenty brave, intelligent, and devoted men will suffice." The Antwerpians opened their eyes in surprise.
"Will you," continued monseigneur, "destroy the French fleet at the expense of your six old vessels and thirty boats?"
"Hum!" said the Antwerpians, looking at each other, "our ships are not so old."
"Well, price them," said the stranger, "and I will pay you their value."
"See," said William softly to him, "the men against whom I have to contend every day. Were it not for that, I should have conquered long ago."
"Come, gentlemen," continued the stranger, "name your price, but name it quickly. I will pay you in bills on yourselves, which I trust you will find good."
"Monseigneur," said the burgomaster, after a few minutes' deliberation with the others, "we are merchants, and not soldiers; therefore, you must pardon some hesitation, for our souls are not in our bodies, but in our counting-houses. However, there are circumstances in which, for the general good, we know how to make sacrifices. Dispose, then, of our ships as you like."
"Ma foi, monseigneur," said William, "you have done wonders. It would have taken me six months to obtain what you have done in ten minutes."
"This, then, is my plan, gentlemen," said monseigneur. "The French, with the admiral's galley at their head, will try to force a passage. Make your line long enough, and from all your boats let the men throw grappling-irons; and then, having made fast the enemy's ships, set fire to all your own boats, having previously filled them with combustible materials, and let your men escape in one reserved for the purpose."
"Oh!" cried William, "I see the whole French fleet burning."
"Yes, the whole; then no more retreat by sea and none by land, for at the same time you must open the sluices of Malines, Berchem, Lier, Duffel, and Antwerp. Repulsed by you, pursued by your open dykes, enveloped on all sides by these waters unexpectedly and rapidly rising, by this sea, which will have a flow, but no ebb, the French will be drowned – overwhelmed – destroyed."
The officers uttered a cry of joy.
"There is but one drawback," said the prince.
"What is it, monseigneur?"
"That it would take a day to send our orders to the different towns, and we have but an hour."
"And an hour is enough."
"But who will instruct the fleet?"
"It is done."
"By whom?"
"By me. If these gentlemen had refused to give it to me, I should have bought it."
"But Malines, Lier, Duffel?"
"I passed through Malines and Lier, and sent a sure agent to Duffel. At eleven o'clock the French will be beaten; at one they will be in full retreat; at two Malines will open its dykes, Lier and Duffel their sluices, and the whole plain will become a furious ocean, which will drown houses, fields, woods, and villages, it is true, but at the same time will destroy the French so utterly, that not one will return to France."
A silence of admiration and terror followed these words; then all at once the Flemings burst into applause. William stepped forward, and, holding out his hand, said: "Then, monseigneur, all is ready on our side?"
"All; and, stay – I believe on the side of the French also."
And he pointed to an officer who was entering.
"Gentlemen," cried the officer, "we have just heard that the French are marching toward the city."
"To arms!" cried the burgomaster.
"To arms!" cried all.
"One moment, gentlemen," cried monseigneur; "I have to give one direction more important than all the rest."
"Speak!" cried all.
"The French will be surprised; it will not be a combat, nor even a retreat, but a flight. To pursue them you must be lightly armed. No cuirasses, morbleu! It is your cuirasses, in which you cannot move, which have made you lose all the battles you have lost. No cuirasses, gentlemen. We will meet again in the combat. Meanwhile, go to the place of the Hotel de Ville, where you will find all your men in battle array."
"Thanks, monseigneur," said William; "you have saved Belgium and Holland."
"Prince, you overwhelm me."
"Will your highness consent to draw the sword against the French?" asked the prince.
"I will arrange as to fight against the Huguenots," replied the unknown, with a smile which his more somber companion might have envied.