The Pocket Bible; or, Christian the Printer: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

"Matters being thus disposed of in France, it will be well to invade Protestant Germany with the aid of the Emperor and the bishops, and to restore that country to the holy apostolic See. To this end, the Duke of Guise shall lend the Emperor and other Catholic Princes all the moneys proceeding from the confiscations and spoils of so many nobles and rich bourgeois, KILLED in France as HERETICS. The Duke of Guise shall be later reimbursed from the spoils of the Lutherans, who, by reason of the same taint of heresy shall have been killed in Germany.

"The Cardinals of the Sacred College have no doubt that, in the same manner, all the other kingdoms can be turned into the flocks of the apostolic shepherd. But, first of all, may it please God to help and favor these purposes, they being HOLY AND FULL OF PIETY."65

"Holy and full of piety were these Catholic purposes!" exclaimed the reverend Father Lefevre laying the pact of the triumvirate upon the table. "Alas, death palsied the hand of the Duke of Guise at the very beginning of his great work!"

"The Lord evidently wished, my reverend Father, to reserve for us, the Valois, the execution of the project that the Guisard organized with a motive of purely personal ambition. I shall hatch the bloody egg that the Lorrainian laid. But the chick can not break the egg except during peace. Then the Huguenots will have ceased to be on their guard; then they will be dozing in false security. The work of extermination will be accomplished with the help of a peace that we shall have brought about. All will be killed – men and women, children and the aged. Not one heretic will escape the avenging sword. Let Rome and Madrid give me time to move! Let Pius V and Philip II give over harassing me continually with their threats on the ground that the war is dragging along! Are hostilities to be suddenly stopped? No, indeed! I must profit, as I have already profited, by all opportunities to destroy as many Huguenots as possible, especially their leaders. The Duke of Alva is right: 'One salmon is worth more than a thousand minnows.' At the first favorable juncture I shall negotiate peace with the Protestants, and grant them all they may demand. The more favorable the treaty shall be to the Huguenots, all the smoother will the rope run that is to strangle them. When the edict is promulgated it shall be scrupulously carried out, in order to induce our adversaries to disarm. At the right moment we shall organize the general massacre, for one day, all over France."

"The Holy Father and the King of Spain shall be posted on your Majesty's project. They will be notified that it is thanks to you, the Duke of Deux-Ponts, Dandelot and the Prince of Condé have been dismissed to appear before their natural Judge."

"People of your cloth, my reverend Father," replied the Queen, "know how to impart an ingenious and peculiar turn to the description of events."

"Madam, seeing we are considering those people in whose behalf we simply advance the hour of final judgment, I wish above all to recommend to the attention of your Majesty that most dangerous German Prince – Franz of Gerolstein."

"The young Prince came last year to my court shortly before the reformers took up arms. He is brilliant, daring and gifted with great military talent. It was due to his influence that the Duke of Deux-Ponts decided to bring to the Protestant army the reinforcement it received of German troops. To-day Franz of Gerolstein is the real head of the forces over which Wolfgang of Mansfeld exercises but titular authority."

"Do you expect to deliver the Church of that pestilential Gerolstein?"

"One of my maids of honor is to take charge of that delicate mission, my reverend Father – " and stopping suddenly short and listening in the direction of a little door that communicated with the apartment, Catherine De Medici asked: "Did you not hear a sound, something like a suppressed cry outside there?"

"No, madam."

"It seems to me I heard a voice behind that door. Throw it open," whispered Catherine to Father Lefevre; "see, I beg you, if there is someone listening!"

The Jesuit rose, pushed open the door, looked out, and returned: "Madam, I can see nobody; the corridor is dark."

"I must have deceived myself. It must have been the moaning of the wind that I heard."

"Madam," said Father Lefevre as he resumed his seat, "once we are considering dangerous persons, I request you to mention to your generals two heretics in particular – Odelin Lebrenn and his son, armorers by trade, who serve in the Admiral's army as volunteers. I would urge you to recommend to your generals that they spare the lives of both heretics if they are ever taken prisoners."

"Did I understand you correctly, my reverend Father? The lives of the two miscreants are to be spared?"

"The grace extended to them will be but a short respite, which we would put to profit by wresting from them certain valuable secrets with the aid of the rack – before dismissing them to their supreme Judge."

"Those are details, my reverend Father, with which I can not burden myself. Upon such matters you must treat with Count Neroweg of Plouernel, the chief of my escort."

At the name of Neroweg of Plouernel the Jesuit gave a slight start. With a face expressive of gratification he remarked: "Madam, Providence seconds my wishes. There is none fitter than the Count of Plouernel for me to address myself to in this affair."

"Let us return to more weighty questions, my reverend Father. I have still two words to say to you concerning the Cardinal of Lorraine. This evening the Guisard strove to make me believe that Marshal Tavannes, the commandant of the army of my son of Anjou, was treating secretly with Coligny. According to the Cardinal, the plot is to offer my son the sovereignty of the Low Countries, besides Guyenne and other provinces, upon condition that he embrace the Reformed religion. Have you received any inkling of these projects through your spies? Unless your own interests render it necessary for you to deceive me on this head, answer me truthfully. I know how to hear and bear the full truth on all matters."

The Jesuit reflected for a moment; he then made answer: "Yes, madam; we are informed on those negotiations – indeed, it is due to that very information that it was decided to send me upon the present mission to your Majesty."

"And, with the view of thwarting the plot, did the Cardinal of Lorraine induce Philip II to propose the Duke of Alva to me for general-in-chief of the Catholic army, with young Henry of Guise, the Cardinal's nephew, and his brother, the Duke of Aumale, as Alva's lieutenants?"

"The proposition was made to the King of Spain. It is true."

"Who, no doubt, received it favorably?"

"Yes, madam. But his Catholic Majesty was not then aware of the latest happenings which you communicated to me, the same as he is still ignorant of your resolution to put an end to the heresy when the moment shall have come to strike the decisive blow, as you explained it."

"You are now informed on the contents of the letter which I showed you from my son of Anjou, regarding the project against Coligny. The Cardinal lied knowingly when he accused my son of dealing with the Admiral. Of course he knows the Marshal and my son will stoutly deny the charge. He merely seeks to arouse doubts and suspicions in my mind, hoping I may be frightened into transferring the command of the French army into the hands of the Duke of Alva and his nephew."

"The Cardinal's falsehood, madam, did not lack skill. It was an adroit diplomatic move."

"Now, my reverend Father, let me sum up our interview – war upon the Huguenots, merciless war, while it lasts; thereupon the offer or acceptance of a peace, which is to be utilized by us in preparing their extermination. That is my line of conduct."

"My mission to you is ended, madam. To-morrow I shall take my departure and return to inform the King of Spain and the Holy Father of the happy deeds done, and those in contemplation, all of which guarantee the execution of your promises for the future."

"My reverend Father, is it in my power to bestow any favor upon you, to grant you a present? It is a right enjoyed by all negotiators."

"Madam, we care but little for the goods and honors of this world. All I shall ask of you is to cause your son, King Charles IX, to change his confessor, and take one from our Society, the reverend Father Auger. He is an able and accommodating man, skilful in understanding everything, permitting everything – and advising everything."

"I promise you I shall induce my son Charles to take Father Auger for his confessor. Good night, my reverend Father, go and rest. I shall see you to-morrow before your departure and deliver to you a letter for the Holy Father."

The Queen rang twice the little bell that lay at her elbow. A page entered: "Conduct the reverend Father to Count Neroweg of Plouernel."

She then rang again, not twice, but three times. After bowing to Catherine De Medici the Jesuit withdrew upon the steps of the page. Almost immediately Anna Bell stepped into the apartment through the door that opened upon the corridor.

Catherine De Medici was struck by the pallor and the troubled, almost frightened, looks of her maid of honor as she presented herself upon the summons of the bell. Fastening a penetrating look upon Anna Bell, the Queen said:

"You look very pale, dearest; your hands tremble; you seem unable to repress some violent emotion."

"May your Majesty deign to excuse me – "

"What is the cause of your great agitation?"

"Fear, madam. I was hurrying to answer your summons, and – as I crossed the dark corridor – whether it was an illusion or reality, I know not, madam, I thought I saw a white figure float before me – "

"It must be the ghost of some deceased belle, who, expecting still to find here the sturdy abbot of the monastery, came to pay him a nocturnal visit. But let us leave the dead to themselves, and turn our thoughts to the living. I love you, my pet, above all your companions."

"Your Majesty has taken pity upon a poor girl."

"Yes; it is now about eight or nine years ago, that, as Paula, one of my women, was crossing the Chatelet Square, she saw an old Bohemian wench holding a little girl by the hand. Struck by the beauty and comeliness of the little one, Paula offered to buy her. The gypsy quickly closed the bargain. Paula told me the story. I desired to see her protegé. It turned out to be yourself. The Bohemian woman must have kidnapped you from some Huguenot family, I fear, judging from a little lead medal that hung from your neck and bore the legend —A Pastor calling the sheep of the Church out of the desert– a common expression in the cabalistic cant of those depraved people."

"Alas! madam, I preserve no other memento of my family – you will pardon me for having kept the medal."

"Well, from the instant that Paula brought you before me I was charmed with your childish gracefulness. I had you carefully trained in the art of pleasing, and placed you among my maids of honor."

"Your Majesty enjoys my unbounded gratitude. Whenever you commanded I obeyed, even when you exacted a sacrifice – whatever it may have cost me – "

"You are alluding, my pet, to the conversion of the Marquis of Solange! I said to you: 'Solange is a Huguenot; he is influential in his province; should war break out again, he may become a dangerous enemy to me; he contemplates leaving the court; – make him love you, and be not cruel to him; a handsome lass like you is well worth a mass.' The bargain was struck. We now have one Catholic more, and one virgin less."

Anna Bell hid her face, purple with shame.

Without seeming to notice the young girl's confusion, Catherine De Medici proceeded: "By the virtue of your beautiful eyes Solange has become a fervent Catholic and one of my most faithful servitors. You gave me in that instance proof of your complete devotion. For the rest, it was a sweet sacrifice on your part, my pet; Solange is an accomplished nobleman, young, handsome, brave and witty. It is not now about that lover that we have business on hand. I have other plans for you. I am thinking of marrying you. I wish to make a Princess of you, and verify the most cherished of your secret wishes – which I have guessed. Anna Bell, you do not love Solange; you never loved him; and you nourish in the recesses of your heart a desperate passion for the young Prince Franz of Gerolstein."

"Good God! Madam. Have pity upon me! Mercy!"

"There is nothing pitiful in the matter. The Prince is made to be loved. His reputation for bravery, magnificence and gallantry ran ahead of him to my court, where you saw him last year. He often conversed with you tête-a-tête. When other women sought to provoke him with their allurements your face grew somber. Oh, nothing escapes me! Affairs of state do not absorb me to the point that I can not follow, with the corner of my eye, the cooings of my maids of honor. It is my mental relaxation. I love to see beauty in its youth devote itself to the cult of Venus, and put in practice the saying of Rabelais' Thalamite – 'Do what you please!' How often did I not seat myself among you, my dear girls, to chat about your gallants, your appointments, your infidelities! What delightful tales did we not tell! How you all led the poor youngsters by the nose! Truth to say, they returned you tit for tat, and with usury, to the greater glory of the goddess Aphrodite! And yet, my pet, although I had trained you a true professional of the Abbey of Thalamia, with Cupid for your god and Voluptuousness for your patron saint, you ever remained out of your element among your companions. Serious and melancholy, you are a sort of nun among my other maids. What you need is devoted and faithful love; a husband whom you can adore without remorse; a brood of children to love. That is the reason, my pet, why I wish to marry you to Franz of Gerolstein."

"It pleases your Majesty to mock me – take pity upon poor Anna."

"No joke! You admit you love the young and handsome German Prince. I can read in your soul better than you could yourself. I shall tell you what your thoughts are at this moment: 'Yes, I love Franz of Gerolstein! But a deep abyss separates us two, and will always separate me from him. He is in the camp opposed to that of the Queen, my benefactress; he is the head of a sovereign house; he is ignorant of my passion, and if he did know, he never could think of wedding me! What am I? A poor girl picked up from the street. I already have had one gallant. Besides, Catherine De Medici's maids of honor enjoy a bad, a deservedly bad, reputation. The satires and the pasquils designate us with the appellation of the Queen's Flying Squadron. I should be crazy to think of marriage with Franz of Gerolstein – '"

"Madam, take pity upon me!" broke in Anna Bell, no longer able to restrain her tears. "Even if what you say is true, even if you read to the very core of my thoughts – please do not sport with my secret sorrows."

"My pet, hand me the little casket of sandal wood, ribbed in gold, that lies upon yonder table. It contains wonderful things."

Anna Bell obeyed. The Queen selected one of the little keys attached to her girdle and opened the casket. Nothing could be more fascinating to the eyes than the contents of the chest – embroidered and perfumed gloves, smelling apples, dainty-looking vermillion confectionery boxes, filled with sugar plums of all colors, and several vials of gold and crystal. Catherine De Medici picked out one of these, reclosed the casket carefully and returned it to Anna Bell. The maid of honor replaced it upon the table and returned to the Queen. Smiling benignly and holding up the golden, glistening vial before her victim, the Queen said: "Do you see this, my pet? This little vial encloses the love of Franz of Gerolstein."

"What a suspicion!" was the thought that flashed through Anna Bell's mind and froze her to the floor. But the terror-stricken girl quickly regained her self-control at that critical moment. "I must not," was the second thought that flashed through her mind close upon the first, "I must not allow the Queen to notice that I know her purpose."

"Do you believe, my pet, in the potency of love-philters?"

"This evening," answered the young girl with an effort to control her emotions, "this very evening Clorinde of Vaucernay was telling us, madam, that a lady of the court succeeded by means of one of those enchanted potions in captivating a man who, before then, had a strong dislike for her."

"You, then, believe in the potency of philters?"

"Certainly, madam," answered Anna Bell anxious not to awaken the Queen's suspicions; "I must have full confidence in their efficacy, seeing it is proved by such incontestable facts."

"The merest doubt on the subject is unallowable, my pet; to doubt would be to shut one's eyes and deny the light of day. Now, my little beauty, the philter contained in this vial, is put together by Ruggieri, my alchemist, under the conjunction of marvelously favorable planets. It is of such virtue that only a few drops, if poured out by a woman who wishes to be loved by a man, would suffice to turn him permanently amorous of her. Take this philter, my pet – go and find your Prince Charming. Let him drink the contents of this vial – and grant him the gift of an amorous mercy."

Anna Bell no longer suspected, she comprehended the Queen's intentions. For a moment she was seized with terror and remained silent, mechanically holding the vial in her hand. The Queen, on her part, attributing the stupor and silence of Anna Bell to an excess of joy, or, perhaps, to the apprehension caused her by the thought of the many and great dangers to overcome in order to approach her Prince, proceeded to allay her fears:

"Poor dear girl, you are as speechless as if, awakened with a start from a dream, you find it a reality. You are surely asking yourself what to do in order to reach Franz? Nothing easier – provided your courage is abreast of your love."

Controlling her troubled mind, Anna Bell answered with composure: "I hope, madam, I do not lack courage."

"Listen to me carefully. We are only a few leagues from the enemy's army. I shall issue orders to Count Neroweg of Plouernel to furnish you with a safe conduct up to the Huguenot outposts. You shall be carried in one of my own litters, drawn by two mules. By dawn to-morrow morning you can not fail to run against some scout or other making the rounds of the Protestant camp – "

"Great God! madam. I tremble at the bare thought of falling into the hands of the Huguenots!"

"If your courage fail you, all will run to water. But you may be quite certain that you run no risk whatever. The Huguenots do not kill women – especially not such handsome ones as yourself. You will be merely the prisoner of the miscreants."

"And what am I to do then, madam?"

"You will say to those who will arrest you: 'Messieurs, I am one of the Queen's maids of honor; I was on my way to join her Majesty; the leader of my litter struck a wrong road; please take me to Prince Franz of Gerolstein.' The rest will go of itself. The Huguenots will take you to the Prince. Like the nobleman that he is, my little beauty, he will keep you at his lodgings or in his tent, he will yield you the place of honor at his table – and – in his bed. You will have more than one opportunity to improve Franz's wine with a few drops of the philter."

The Queen's instructions were interrupted at this point by the entrance of a page who came to announce that Count Neroweg of Plouernel prayed for admission to the Queen's presence upon pressing and important matters. Catherine ordered the page to introduce the Count, and she bade Anna Bell godspeed, kissing her on the forehead and adding these last instructions:

"Prepare immediately for your journey, my pet. The Count of Plouernel will appoint the guide who is to accompany you. One of my equerries will get a litter ready. I expect to see you again before your departure."

The maid of honor followed the Queen's instructions. Seeing that the interview with the Count of Plouernel lasted longer than she had anticipated, Catherine De Medici was prevented from seeing Anna Bell again, and sent her a note to depart without delay.

Towards one o'clock in the morning the maid of honor mounted in one of the Queen's litters, left the Abbey of St. Severin.

CHAPTER III.

THE AVENGERS OF ISRAEL

The sun was rising. Its early rays gilded the crest of a forest about a league distant from St. Yrieix, a large burg that served as the center of the Protestant encampment. A chapel, formerly dedicated to St. Hubert by an inveterate hunter, raised its dilapidated walls on the edge of the wood, the skirts of which were now guarded by mounted scouts, posted at long intervals. The chapel had been devastated during the religious wars. Its belfries, the capitals and the friezes of its portico were broken; its windows were smashed in; the statue of St. Hubert, the patron of hunters, lay decapitated in the midst of other debris, along with that of the seigneur who founded the holy shrine, chosen by him for his sepulcher. The fragments of his marble image, representing him lying prone, with hands joined in prayer, hunting horn slung over his shoulder, his favorite greyhound stretched at his feet – all lay strewn around the mortuary vault, now gaping wide open and cumbered with ruins. The interior of the chapel now served as a stable, and also as guardhouse to a picket squad of the Huguenot army, posted at the spot. The pickets' horses, ready saddled and bridled, stood drawn up in double row in one of the low-roofed aisles and on either side of a door that communicated with the old vestry. For want of forage the beasts were eating the green leaves of large bunches of branches thrown at their feet. The riders, either standing, or seated, or stretched out at full length, wrapped in their cloaks, were not dressed in uniform. Their offensive and defensive arms, however, dissimilar and worn, were in usable condition.

This band of Huguenot volunteers took the name of the Avengers of Israel. Josephin, the Franc-Taupin, named by the Catholics "The One-Eyed," was their commander. On all occasions the Avengers of Israel approved themselves animated by an intrepidity that was matchless, always claiming for themselves the post of greatest danger, and always found first in battle. The indomitable courage of the Franc-Taupin, his exceptional skill in guerilla warfare, his pitiless hatred for the papists, upon whom he swore to avenge the fate of his sister Bridget and his niece Hena, earned for him the leadership of these resolute men.

On this day, at sunrise, the commander presided at a species of tribunal consisting of several of his companions in arms, all seated in the midst of the ruins of the chapel of St. Hubert. The years had whitened the hair and beard of the Franc-Taupin, without impairing the fiber of his energy. An old rust-covered steel breastplate over his chest answered the purpose of corselet; his wide hose of red cloth were half covered by a pair of high leather boots heavy with dust; at his belt, which also contained his cartridges, hung a short stick suspended from a piece of pack-thread, and indented with sixteen notches – each tallying the death of a priest or monk. The dagger of fine Milan steel, a present from Odelin, hung on the Franc-Taupin's right side, while at his left he wore a long sword with an iron hilt. The Franc-Taupin's bronzed and haggard features, rendered all the more sinister by the large black patch which covered one eye, were at this moment expressive of sardonic cruelty. He was sitting in judgment upon a Cordelier, a man of tall and robust build, who was captured in the early morning prowling in the forest. Some letters found about his person proved that the tonsured gentleman was a spy of the royalist army, and one of the Avengers of Israel recognized him as one of the monks who took part in the carnage of Mirebeau, where nearly twelve hundred Huguenot prisoners were put to death with frightful refinements of cruelty. Surrounded by several of his companions, who, like himself, were seated upon the ruins of the altar, the Franc-Taupin drew his dagger and was engaged in leisurely sharpening it upon a stone that he held between his knees, without looking at the monk who, livid with rage and terror, and standing a few steps aside with his arms tied behind his back, was uttering maledictions at the top of his voice: