The Forest of Swords: A Story of Paris and the Marne

"It's bad enough to be captured, but I won't be shot Nobody here knows that I'm an Alsatian, and consequently they will think I'm a Frenchman. If you call me anything, call me Fernand, which is my first name, but which they will take for the last."

"All right, Fernand. I'll practice on it now, so I'll make no slip. How did you happen to be taken?"

"I was in a motor car, a part of a train of about a hundred cars. There were seven in it besides myself. We were ordered to cross a field and join a line of advancing infantry. When we were in the middle of the field a masked German battery of rapid-firers opened on us at short range. It was an awful experience, like a stroke of lightning, and I don't think that more than a dozen of us escaped with our lives. I was wounded in the arm and taken before I could get out of the field. I was brought here with some other prisoners and I have been sleeping on the ground just beyond that hillock. I awoke early, and, walking the little distance our guards allow, I happened to recognize your figure lying here. I was sorry and yet glad to see you, sorry that you were a prisoner, and glad to find at least one whom I knew, a friend."

John gave Weber's hand a strong grasp.

"I can say the same about you," he said warmly. "We're both prisoners, but yesterday was a magnificent day for France and democracy."

"It was, and now it's to be seen what today will be."

"I hope and believe it will be no less magnificent."

"I learned that you were taken just after you alighted from an aeroplane, and that a man with you escaped in the plane. At least, I presume it was you, as I heard the Germans talking of such a person and I knew of your great friendship for Philip Lannes. Lannes, of course was the one who escaped."

"A good surmise, Fernand. It was no less a man than he."

Weber's eyes sparkled.

"I was sure of it," he said. "A wonderful fellow, that Lannes, perhaps the most skillful and important bearer of dispatches that France has. But he will not forget you, Mr. Scott. He knows, of course, where you were taken, and doubtless from points high in the air he has traced the course of this German army. He will find time to come for you. He will surely do so. He has a feeling for you like that of a brother, and his skill in the air gives him a wonderful advantage. In all the history of the world there have never before been any scouts like the aeroplanes."

"That's true, and that, I think, is their chief use."

Impulse made John look up. The skies were fast beginning to brighten with the first light in the east, and large objects would be visible there. But he saw nothing against the blue save two or three captive balloons which floated not far above the trees inside the German lines. He longed for a sight of the Arrow. He believed that he would know its shape even high in the heavens, but they were speckless.

The Alsatian, whose eyes followed his, shook his head.

"He is not there, Mr. Scott," he said, "and you will not see him today, but I have a conviction that he will come, by night doubtless."

John lowered his eyes and his feeling of disappointment passed. It had been foolish of him to hope so soon, but it was only a momentary impulse, Lannes could not seek him now, and even if he were to come there would be no chance of rescue until circumstances changed.

"Doubtless you and he were embarked on a long errand when you were taken," said Weber.

"We were carrying a message to the commander of one of the French armies, but I don't know the name of the commander, I don't know which army it is, and I don't know where it is."

Weber laughed.

"But Lannes knew all of those things," he said. "Oh, he's a close one! He wouldn't trust such secrets not even to his brother-in-arms."

"Nor should he do so. I'd rather he'd never tell them to me unless he thought it necessary."

"I agree with you exactly, Mr. Scott. Hark! Did you hear it? The battle swells afresh, and it's not yet full day!"

The roaring had not ceased, but out of the west rose a sound, louder yet, deep, rolling and heavy with menace. It was the discharge of a great gun and it came from a point several miles away.

"We don't know who fired that," said Weber, "It may be French, English or German, but it's my opinion that we'll hear its like in our forest all day long, just as we did yesterday. However, it shall not keep me from bathing my face in this brook."

"Nor me either," said John.

The cold water refreshed and invigorated him, and as he stooped over the brook, he heard other cannon. They seemed to him fairly to spring into action, and, in a few moments, the whole earth was roaring again with the huge volume of their fire.

Other prisoners, wounded and unwounded, awakened by the cannon, strolled down to the brook and dipped into its waters.

"I'd better slip back to my place beyond the hillock," said Weber. "We're in two lots, we prisoners, and I belong in the other lot. I don't think our guards have noticed our presence here, and it will be safer for me to return. But it's likely that we'll all be gathered into one body soon, and I'll help you watch for Lannes."

"I'll be glad of your help," said John sincerely. "We must escape. In all the confusion of so huge a battle there ought to be a chance."

Weber slipped away in the crowd now hurrying down to the stream, and in a few moments John was joined by Fleury, whose attention was centered on the sounds of the distant battle. He deemed it best to say nothing to him of Weber, who did not wish to be known as an Alsatian. Fleury's heavy sleep had made him strong and fresh again, but he was in a fury at his helplessness.

"To think of our being tied here at such a time," he said. "France and England are pushing the battle again! I know it, and we're helpless, mere prisoners!"

"Still," said John, "while we can't fight we may see things worth seeing. Perhaps it's not altogether our loss to be inside the German army on such a day."

Fleury could not reconcile himself to such a view, but he sought to make the best of it, and he was cheered, too, by the vast increase in the volume of the cannon fire. Before the full day had crossed from east to west the great guns were thundering again along the long battle line. But in their immediate vicinity there was no action. All the German troops here seemed to be resting on their arms. No Uhlans were visible and John judged that the detachment under von Boehlen, having gone forth chiefly for scouting purposes, had not yet returned.

They received bread, sausage and coffee for breakfast from one of the huge kitchen automobiles, and nearly all ate with a good appetite. Their German captors did not treat them badly, but John, watching both officers and men, did not see any elation. He had no doubt that the officers were stunned by the terrible surprise of the day before, and as for the men, they would know nothing. He had seen early that the Germans were splendid troops, disciplined, brave and ingenious, but the habit of blind obedience would blind them also to the fact that fortune had turned her face away from them.

He wished that his friend von Arnheim—friend he regarded him—would appear and tell him something about the battle, but his wish did not come true for an hour and meanwhile the whole heavens resounded with the roar of the battle, while distant flashes from the guns could be seen on either flank.

The young German, glasses in hand, evidently seeking a good view, walked to the crest of the hillock behind which Weber had disappeared. John presumed enough on their brief friendship to call to him.

"Do you see anything of interest?" he asked.

Von Arnheim nodded quickly.

"I see the distant fringe of a battle," he replied amiably, "but it's too early in the morning for me to pass my judgment upon it."

"Nevertheless you can look for a day of most desperate struggle!"

Von Arnheim nodded very gravely.

"Men by tens of thousands will fall before night," he said.

As if to confirm his words, the roar of the battle took a sudden and mighty increase, like a convulsion.

CHAPTER VII

THE TWO PRINCES

John sat with the other prisoners for more than two hours listening to the thunder of the great battle or rather series of battles which were afterwards classified under the general head the Battle of the Marne. He was not a soldier, merely a civilian serving as a soldier, but he had learned already to interpret many of the signs of combat. There was an atmospheric feeling that registered on a sensitive mind the difference between victory and defeat, and he was firm in the belief that as yesterday had gone today was going. Certainly this great German army which he believed to be in the center was not advancing, and something of a character most menacing was happening to the wings of the German force. He read it in the serious, preoccupied faces of the officers who passed near. There was not a smile on the face of the youngest of them all, but deepest anxiety was written alike on young and old.

John and Fleury sat together at the edge of the brook, and for a while forgot their chagrin at not being on the battle line. The battle itself which they could not see, but which they could hear, absorbed them so thoroughly that they had no time to think of regrets.

John had thought that man's violence, his energy in destruction on the first day could not be equalled, but it seemed to him now that the second day surpassed the first. The cannon fire was distant, yet the waves of air beat heavily upon them, and the earth shook without ceasing. Wisps of smoke floated toward them and the air was tainted again with the acrid smell of burned gunpowder.

"You're a mountaineer, Fleury, you told me," said Scott, "and you should be able to judge how sound travels through gorges. I suppose you yodel, of course?"

"Yodel, what's that?"

"To make a long singing cry on a peak which is supposed to reach to somebody on another peak who sends back the same kind of a singing cry. We have a general impression in America that European mountaineers don't do much but stand in fancy costumes on crests and ridges and yodel to one another."

"It may have been so once," said the young Savoyard, "but this is a bad year for yodeling. The voice of the cannon carries so far that the voice of man doesn't amount to much. But what sound did you want me to interpret?"

"That of the cannon. Does its volume move eastward or westward? I should think it's much like your mountain storms and you know how they travel among the ridges."

"The comparison is just, but I can't yet tell any shifting of the artillery fire. The wind brings the sound toward us, and if there's any great advance or retreat I should be able to detect it. I should say that as far as the second day is concerned nothing decisive has happened yet."

"Do you know this country?"

"A little. My regiment marched through here about three weeks ago and we made two camps not far from this spot. This is the wood of Sénouart, and the brook here runs down to the river Marne."

"And we're not far from that river. Then we've pressed back the Germans farther than I thought. It's strange that the German army here does not move."

"It's waiting, and I fancy it doesn't know what to do. I've an idea that our victory yesterday was greater than the French and British have realized, but which the Germans, of course, understand. Why do they leave us here, almost neglected, and why do their officers walk about, looking so doubtful and anxious? I've heard that the Germans were approaching Paris with five armies. It may be that we've cut off at least one of those armies and that it's in mortal danger."

"It may be so. But have you thought, Fleury, of the extraordinary difference between this morning and yesterday morning?"

"I have. In conditions they're worlds apart. Hark! Listen now, Scott, my friend!"

He lay on the grass and put his ear to the ground, just as John had often done. Listening intently for at least two minutes, he announced with conviction that the cannonade was moving eastward.

"Which means that the Germans are withdrawing again?" said John.

"Undoubtedly," said Fleury, his face glowing.

They listened a quarter of an hour longer, and John himself was then able to tell that the battle line was shifting. The Germans elsewhere must have fallen back several miles, but the army about him did not yet move. He caught a glimpse of the burly general walking back and forth in the forest, his hands clasped behind him, and a frown on his broad, fighting face. He would walk occasionally to a little telephone station, improvised under the trees—John could see the wires stretching away through the forest—and listen long and attentively. But when he put down the receiver the same moody look was invariably on his face, and John was convinced as much by his expression as by the sound of the guns that affairs were not going well with the Germans.

Another long hour passed and the sun moved on toward noon, but a German army of perhaps a quarter of a million men lay idle in the forest of Sénouart, as John now called the whole region.

Presently the general walked down the line and John lost sight of him. But Weber reappeared, coming from the other side of the hillock, and John was glad to see him, since Fleury had gone back to attend to a wounded friend.

"There doesn't seem to be as much action here as I expected," said Weber, cheerfully, sitting down on the grass beside young Scott.

"But they're shaking the world there! and there!" said John, nodding to right and to left.

"So they are. This is a most extraordinary reversal, Mr. Scott, and I can't conceive how it was brought about. Some mysterious mind has made and carried through a plan that was superbly Napoleonic. I'd give much to know how it was done."

John shook his head.

"I know nothing of it," he said.

"But doubtless your friend Lannes does. What a wonderful thing it is to carry through the heavens the dispatches which may move forward a million armed men."

"I don't know anything about Lannes' dispatches."

"Nor do I, but I can make a close guess, just as you can. He's surely hovering over the battle field today, and as I said last night he certainly has some idea where you are, and sooner or later will come for you."

John looked up, but again the heavens were bare and clear. Then he looked down and saw walking near them a heavy, middle-aged, bearded man to whom all the German officers paid great deference. The man's manner was haughty and overbearing, and John understood at once that in the monarchical sense he was a personage.

"Do you know the big fellow there?" he said to Weber. "Have you heard anyone speak of him?"

"I saw him this morning, and one of the guards told us who he is. That is Prince Karl of Auersperg. The house of Auersperg is one of the oldest in Germany, much older than the Emperor's family, the Hohenzollerns. I don't suppose the world contains any royal blood more ancient than that of Prince Karl."

"Evidently he feels that it's so. I'm getting used to princes, but our heavy friend there must be something of a specialist in the princely line. I should judge from his manner that he is not only the oldest man on earth, speaking in terms of blood, but the owner of the earth as well."

"The Auerspergs have an immense pride."

"I can see it, but a lot of pride fell before Paris yesterday, and a lot more is falling among these hills and forests today. There seems to be a lot of difference between princes, the Arnheims and the Auerspergs, for instance."

Then a sudden thought struck John. It had the vaguest sort of basis, but it came home to him with all the power of conviction.

"I wonder if Prince Karl of Auersperg once owned a magnificent armored automobile," he said.

Weber looked puzzled, and then his eyes lightened.

"Ah, I know what you mean!" he exclaimed. "The one in which we took that flight with Carstairs the Englishman and Wharton the American. It belonged to a prince, without doubt, yes. But no, it couldn't have been Prince Karl of Auersperg who owned the machine."

"I'm not so sure. I've an intuition that it is he. Besides, he looks like just the kind of prince from whom I'd like to take his best automobile, also everything else good that he might happen to have. I shall feel much disappointed if this proves not to be our prince."

"You Americans are such democrats."

"I don't go so far as to say a man is necessarily bad because of his high rank, but as I reminded you a little while ago, there are princes and princes. The ancient house of Auersperg as it walks up and down, indicating its conviction of its own superiority to everything else on earth, does not please me."

"The Uhlans are coming back!" exclaimed Weber in tones of excitement.

"And that's von Boehlen at their head! I'd know his figure as far as I could see it! And they've had a brush, too! Look at the empty saddles and the wounded men! As sure as we live they've run into the French cavalry and then they've run out again!"

The Uhlans were returning at a gallop, and the German officers of high rank were crowding forward to meet them. It was obvious to every one that they had received a terrible handling, but John knew that von Boehlen was not a man to come at a panicky gallop. Some powerful motive must send him so fast.

He saw the Prussian captain spring from his horse and rush to a little group composed of the general, the prince and several others of high rank who had drawn closely together at his coming.

Von Boehlen was wounded slightly, but he stood erect as he saluted the commander and talked with him briefly and rapidly. John's busy and imaginative mind was at work at once with surmises, and he settled upon one which he was sure must be the truth. The French advance in the center was coming, and this German army also must soon go into action.

He was confirmed in his belief by a hurried order to the guards to go eastward with the prisoners. As the captives, the wounded and the unwounded, marched off through the forest of Sénouart they heard at a distance, but behind them, the opening of a huge artillery fire. It was so tremendous that they could feel the shaking of the earth as they walked, and despite the hurrying of their guards they stopped at the crest of a low ridge to look back.

They gazed across a wide valley toward high green hills, along which they saw rapid and many flashes. John longed now for the glasses which had been taken from him when he was captured, but he was quite sure that the flashes were made by French guns. From a point perhaps a mile in front of the prisoners masked German batteries were replying. Fleury with his extraordinary power of judging sound was able to locate these guns with some degree of approximation.

"Look! the aeroplanes!" said John, pointing toward the hills which he now called to himself the French line.

Numerous dark shapes, forty or fifty at least, appeared in the sky and hovered over the western edge of the wide, shallow basin. John was sure that they were the French scouts of the blue, appearing almost in line like troops on the ground, and his heart gave a great throb. No doubt could be left now, that this German army was being attacked in force and with the greatest violence. It followed then that the entire German line was being assailed, and that the French victory was continuing its advance. The Republic had rallied grandly and was hurling back the Empire in the most magnificent manner.

All those emotions of joy and exultation that he had felt the day before returned with increased force. In daily contact he liked Germans as well as Frenchmen, but he thought that no punishment could ever be adequate for the gigantic crimes of kings. Napoleon himself had been the champion of democracy and freedom, until he became an emperor and his head swelled so much with success that he thought of God and himself together, just as the Kaiser was now thinking. It was a curious inversion that the French who were fighting then to dominate Europe were fighting now to prevent such a domination. But it was now a great French republican nation remade and reinvigorated, as any one could see.

The guards hurried them on again. Another mile and they stopped once more on the crest of a low hill, where it seemed that they would remain some time, as the Germans were too busy with a vast battle to think much about a few prisoners. It was evident that the whole army was engaged. The old general, the other generals, the princes and perhaps dukes and barons too, were in the thick of it. John's heart was filled with an intense hatred of the very name of royalty. Kings and princes could be good men personally, but as he saw its work upon the huge battle fields of Europe he felt that the institution itself was the curse of the earth.

"We shall win again today," said Fleury, rousing him from his absorption. "Look across the fields, Scott, my friend, and see how those great masses of infantry charging our army have been repulsed."

It was a far look, and at the distance the German brigades seemed to be blended together, but the great gray mass was coming back slowly. He forgot all about himself and his own fate in his desire to see every act of the gigantic drama as it passed before him. He took no thought of escape at present, nor did Fleury, who stood beside him. The fire of the guns great and small had now blended into the usual steady thunder, beneath which human voices could be heard.

"We don't have the forty-two centimeters, nor the great siege guns," said Fleury, "but the French field artillery is the best in the world. It's undoubtedly holding back the German hosts and covering the French advance."

"That's my opinion, too," said John. "I saw its wonderful work in the retreat toward Paris. I think it saved the early French armies from destruction."

The German army was made of stern material. Having planted its feet here it refused to be driven back. Its cannon was a line of flaming volcanoes, its cavalry charged again and again into the face of death, and its infantry perished in masses, but the stern old general spared nothing. Passing up and down the lines, listening at the telephone and receiving the reports of air scouts and land scouts, he always hurled in fresh troops at the critical points and Fritz and Karl and Wilhelm and August, sober and honest men, went forward willingly, sometimes singing and sometimes in silence, to die for a false and outworn system. John as a prisoner had a better view than he would have had if with the French army. In a country open now he could see a full mile to right and left, where the German hosts marched again and again to attack, and while the French troops were too far away for his eyes he beheld the continuous flare of their fire, like a broad red ribbon across the whole western horizon.

The passing of time was nothing to him. He forgot all about it in his absorption. But the sun climbed on, afternoon came, and still the battle at this point raged, the French unable to drive the Germans farther and the Germans unable to stop the French attacks. John roused himself and endeavored to dissociate the thunder on their flanks from that in front, and, after long listening, he was able to make the separation, or at least he thought so. He knew now that the struggle there was no less fierce than the one before him.

The Kaiser himself must be present with one or the other of these armies, and a man who had talked for more than twenty years of his divine right, his shining armor, his invincible sword and his mailed fist must be raging with the bitterness of death to find that he was only a mortal like other mortals, and that simple French republicans were defeating the War Lord, his Grand Army and the host of kings, princes, dukes, barons, high-born, very high-born, and all the other relics of medievalism. Dipped to the heel and beyond in the fountain of democracy, John could not keep from feeling a fierce joy as he saw with his own eyes the Germans fighting in the utmost desperation, not to take Paris and destroy France, but to save themselves from destruction.

The afternoon, slow and bright, save for the battle, dragged on. Scott and Fleury kept together. Weber appeared once more and spoke rather despondently. He believed that the Germans would hold fast, and might even resume the offensive toward Paris again, but Fleury shook his head.