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

"You may judge, colonel, what memories are awakened within us by that single word – Brittany."

"Well, my boy, it occurred to me quite recently that your and your father's wishes may easily be realized."

"How?"

"By virtue of his primogeniture, my brother is the sole owner of the vast hereditary domains belonging to our family in Auvergne and in Brittany. But the father of my dear wife Jocelyne, a good and honest Breton who resides in Brittany, owns an estate that lies not far from Karnak, along the seashore. Judging from what your father has told me of your family traditions, the estate is bound to consist, partly at least, of the fields once owned by your ancestor Joel the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. Now, then, if God should grant us peace again, nothing would be easier for me than to obtain from my wife's father either the sale or lease of a portion of those fields, and you could then settle down there with your family."

"Oh, colonel! I should be pleased to owe to you the happiness of living in Brittany, near the cradle of my family, together with father and mother, and my sisters, and Cornelia my sweetheart, who will then be my wife!"

"And yet, strange to say, my boy, your ancestors and mine have hated and fought each other across the ages. I must admit the fact – the law of nature justified the terrible reprisals of the conquered upon their conquerors, in those days of frightful oppression. It required the rude school of the religious wars to join in one common belief the children of Joel the Gaul and of Neroweg the Frank, as your father puts it. That first step in Evangelical fraternity marks an immense progress. Thus will traditional hatreds cool down little by little, and race antagonisms will be wiped out, as they have been wiped out between our two families, once such bitter enemies – "

"And now," Antonicq completed the sentence, "united by the bonds of firm friendship. May the same be kept ever green among our descendants."

"It is my fervent hope, my dear Antonicq. I am bringing up my children in that feeling. More than once have I cited to them incidents from your family legends, to the end that their young minds may be penetrated with the sense that the rights, the privileges, the titles of which the nobility boasts so loudly, and which it guards so jealously, have for their principle or origin the abominable acts of violence that conquest brings in its train."

During the conversation between Colonel Plouernel and Antonicq the regiment pursued its march under shelter of the ridge that it skirted. The further end of the ridge sloped gradually down to the level of the field, watered by the lake and the stream which protected the front of the royal camp. The attacking column, which, obedient to the orders of the Admiral, marched in silence, was expected to reach the open before sunrise, and thus be able to open the assault unexpectedly upon the strongly entrenched outposts, that were planted on the lake road. The execution of the plan was frustrated by the martial impatience of the volunteers, whom Pastor Feron in his exaltation drove to a fever heat of excitement with his blind faith in the irresistible power of the arm of Israel. The Huguenots were still half an hour's march from the enemy when the pastor, who marched ahead of the silent drummers, suddenly intoned in a ringing voice the psalm well known to the Protestants:

"The Eternal looks down from above,Night and day from out the skies,On all men bestowing love,And nothing escapes His eyes."From His throne august,The holy King and justSees below distinctly,Of man the distant race,Through th' abyss of spaceSees it all distinctly."Nor camps nor yet gendarmes,Nor all the strong alarmsCan ever save a king!Nor iron nor courageAre of a good usage,Oh, Lord, without Thy aid."Yes, God His wings doth spread,On us His grace doth shed.And ever mounteth guardO'er those who Him esteem.None other worthy deemBut only Him regard."

No sooner had the pastor struck up the psalm with its biblical poetry, than each couplet was repeated in chorus by the Huguenots. Nothing could be more solemn than that choir of three thousand male and sonorous voices, rising from the silent plain, and seeming to salute with a martial hymn the first rays of that day of battle. Nevertheless, sadly inopportune, the canticle announced to the enemy the approach of the Protestants. Driven to despair by the infraction of the Admiral's orders, Colonel Plouernel sought at first to restore silence by addressing himself to the foremost companies. Vain hope; vain entreaties. The soldiers wrought themselves up with their own voice.

"Oh, this lack of discipline will ever be fatal to us!" observed Colonel Plouernel to Antonicq. "Thus have we almost always either endangered the success of a battle, or even lost the day that otherwise would positively have been ours! But the error is committed. The enemy is informed of our proximity. Let it at least be announced resolutely!"

And addressing the drummers:

"Boys, beat the double-quick!"

The drums immediately resounded without however drowning the voices of the Protestants – an imposing military orchestra. The column hastened its steps. After half an hour's rapid march its front ranks debouched into the open field. Piercing a heavy bank of clouds, the first rays of the sun crimsoned the face of a wide lake into which emptied a stream that itself was fed by a number of streamlets which descended from an elevated plateau, dominated by the burg of Roche-la-Belle. The lake and main stream were hemmed in on the side of the royal entrenchments, and constituted the enemy's first line of defense. A thick chestnut forest rose to the left of the lake. The lake road ran at right angles, and was fortified by an earthwork, furnished with embrasures, and these armed with falconets. This light artillery could sweep the whole length of the water-courses, which had to be crossed in order to attack a palisaded ground, which, crenelated with loop-holes for the use of arquebusiers, completed the defenses of the Catholic army. Finally, a number of heavy guns, mounted upon a high embankment, could also play upon the water-course. A cross-fire thus rendered the crossing doubly dangerous. This particular peril would have been almost wholly escaped had the Admiral's orders been obeyed. Had the attacking column arrived noiselessly at break of day and taken the royalists by surprise when still rolled in slumbers, and before they could hurry to their light and heavy guns and form their ranks, the Huguenots could have crossed the stream and, soon supported by their whole army corps, could have led a powerful attack upon the enemy's position. It happened otherwise. The reverberations of the hymn sung by the Huguenots sounded the reveille to the enemy, and frustrated the Admiral's plans. From all sides the drums of the Catholics were sounding the call to arms when the first company of the Protestants debouched upon the plain. Colonel Plouernel ordered a halt, alighted from his horse, gathered his captains around him and, in order to avoid further mishaps said to them:

"We can no longer hope to take the enemy by surprise. I shall now communicate to you my new plan of attack."

Hardly had Colonel Plouernel uttered these words when they heard a lively rattle of arquebus fire from the lake road. He turned his eyes in that direction, unable at first to conjecture against whom the fire could be directed, seeing that he and his forces were beyond the reach of the shot. Immediately, however, the ricochetting of the balls over the surface of the lake attracted the colonel's attention, and he soon perceived here and there, at a considerable distance from one another, several casqued heads just above the surface of the water, and ever and anon diving below with the view of escaping the fire of the arquebusiers.

"It is the Franc-Taupin and his Avengers of Israel. They have been sounding for a ford across the lake and the stream!" exclaimed the colonel in high glee. "Their information will be of great use to us." But immediately he cried out: "Oh! one of the brave men has been struck!"

Indeed, one of the Avengers of Israel, who, following the example of the Franc-Taupin, and in order not to offer his full body to the aim of the enemy, crouched lower and lower in the measure that, as he drew nearer to the reed-covered edge of the lake, the water grew shallower – one of the Avengers of Israel was struck by a bullet full in the head. He straightened up with a convulsive movement, threw his arms in the air, reeled, and then dropped, immediately disappearing under the water, whose surface at the spot reddened with his blood. The Franc-Taupin, together with his other companions, continued to drag themselves up through the reeds as far as the shore of the lake. Once there, the balls could not reach them. They picked up their arms and munitions, which they had left close to the bank, put on their cross-belts, and walked towards the group of officers whom they saw at a distance, standing near the last undulation of the ridge that still masked their column. Antonicq, who had alighted from his horse together with Colonel Plouernel, ran to meet the Franc-Taupin and threw his arms around the brave old soldier, saying: "Heaven be thanked, you have had a narrow escape from death!"

"Good morning, my boy!" answered Josephin. "But quit your embracings – you will get wet; I am streaming water. In my young days I played the mole, now in my old age I play the crawfish – so cease embracing me. Besides, I am angry with you and your father – it was due to you two that the scoundrel Hervé escaped death. We found his prison empty last night. Who but you winked at the demon's escape? I did not know that you were placed on guard over him."

"Uncle, the bonds of blood – "

"By my sister's death! Did he respect the bonds of blood!"

And stepping towards Colonel Plouernel, he said:

"Colonel, this is the result of our explorations: We arrived here before dawn; we left our horses at the ruined farm-house that you see yonder; we then took to the water. The royalists were not on the watch. The lake is fordable by cavalry from the point where the reeds run obliquely into the water. The stream is fordable in all parts by infantry. The water is not more than four feet deep at its deepest, and the bottom is hard. If you wish to flank the entrenchment on the lake road, you will have to ride up about three thousand feet on the side of the chestnut wood. There you will find, running into the marsh, a long and wide jetty. Ten men can walk abreast on it. It abutts on a palisaded earthwork that can be easily taken. It is the weak side of the enemy's defenses. You may rely upon the accuracy of these facts, colonel. I made the reconnoissance myself."

"I know you are reliable, Josephin," answered Colonel Plouernel. "The information you bring me confirms me in the plan of attack that I have projected."

And stepping back to the group of officers whom Pastor Feron had just joined, the colonel said:

"Gentlemen, the following is my plan – we would incur a useless loss of men were we to make a front attack upon the lake road fortifications, and the palisaded fort. The enemy is up. The stream that we would have to wade is swept from right and left by a cross artillery fire. We will divide our forces into three corps. The first, which I shall command, will attempt to cross the stream, however perilous the feat, to the end of attracting the enemy's fire upon us, while our second corps, masked by the chestnut grove, shall march up to the jetty of the swamp in order to take the road fortifications on the flank. Finally, our third corps will move upon that other entrenchment which you see yonder where the stream crosses. The attack being thus made upon three points at once, the bulk of the army that comes close behind us will support our action. The engagement will be hot. Let us spare the blood of our men all we can. Courage and prudence."

"Still prudence! Still hesitation! notwithstanding the Lord fights for our rights!" exclaimed Pastor Feron with burning enthusiasm. "We but puff up the pride of the Philistines by not daring to attack them in front! Pusillanimity! Lack of faith in God!"

"To divide our forces instead of overwhelming the enemy by concentrating them upon one point?" put in one of the principal officers. "Did you consider that, Colonel Plouernel?"

The exasperated colonel cried: "Rely upon my mature experience – to make a front attack, and in mass, upon the enemy's position is as foolhardy an enterprise as it is fraught with danger."

"Intrepidity is the strength of the children of Israel!" cried the pastor in a louder voice. "United the children of Israel are invincible! Let us all march! Side by side! Like brothers, forward! High our heads and without fear! The finger of God points us the way!"

"Yes, yes! Let us attack in mass and with fury!" echoed most of the officers. "Forward all! Holding close together, nothing can resist us! God is with us!"

Alas, once again, as happened so often before in our wars, and to the greater misfortune of our arms, blind foolhardiness, inexperience, lack of discipline, and an exaggerated faith in the triumph of the cause, prevailed over the wise counsels of an officer who had grown grey in harness, and whose military science matched his bravery. First the captains, soon the soldiers also, successively informed from rank to rank upon the subject of the deliberation, and wrought up by the burning words of the pastor, objected to a division of the forces, deeming that such a move would weaken them; and, above all, fearing to seem to waver in sight of the foe, they demanded aloud to be led in mass against the enemy. Colonel Plouernel, who had a long experience with Breton volunteers, and was too well acquainted with their proverbial stubbornness, abandoned all thought of winning them over to his views. Seeing the men elated to the point of delirious heroism, he calmly said to the officers:

"Is it your wish? Well, let us march! Drummers, beat to the charge! Forward, at the enemy! Battle, all along the line!"

Colonel Plouernel then drew his sword, clasped Antonicq's hand, and said:

"My friend, we are marching to slaughter. If you escape the carnage that I foresee, take my last adieus to my wife and little boys, and also to your worthy father."

"These brave fellows are crazy! We shall be mowed down," observed the Franc-Taupin in turn to Antonicq. "I would die without first having done my twenty-five Catholic priests to death! The devil still owes me seven of them. Be firm, my boy. Let us not be separated from each other. We shall then at least both have the same stream for our tomb. To think of it! I who in my young days loved wine so well, now to die in water!"

The column set itself in motion in a compact mass, at a quick pace, and with drums beating at its head. Before the drummers marched Pastor Feron, who again intoned a psalm that was speedily taken up in chorus by the Protestants in the midst of a veritable hailstorm of balls and bullets:

"God ever was both my life and my light!0Death, I defy thee! What have I to fear?God's my support with His infinite might!Have I not from Him my title quite clear?"When the malignants did fire on me,When they expected to tear out my heart,Have I not seen them all thrown down by Thee,Scattered, and smitten, and struck by Thy dart?"Come, let a whole camp surround me on all sides,Never my heart will be shaken with fright!Close by my side, Oh! the Lord ever strides,Need I to fear of a foe any blight?"

The battle raged with fury. Colonel Plouernel's apprehensions were realized. Despite prodigies of intrepidity, his column, as it waded through the stream in serried and compact ranks, was received in front and from the two flanks by a terrific cross-fire of arquebuses and artillery. Three-fourths of the volunteers fell under the torrent of lead, even before reaching the middle of the stream. Wondering at the length of this vanguard attack, the successful execution of which he considered certain by entrusting it to Colonel Plouernel. Admiral Coligny suddenly saw Antonicq Lebrenn riding back at top speed with his thigh pierced by a bullet. Informed by Antonicq of the reason of the disastrous result of the encounter, the Admiral promptly ordered Colonels Bueil and Piles to proceed at their swiftest with their respective regiments to the jetty, and take the road entrenchment from the flank. Soubise, La Rochefoucauld and Saragosse received and, with their wonted skill, executed another set of orders. Within shortly battle was engaged all along the line, changing the aspect of the conflict. The Huguenots' artillery responded to and silenced the fire from the opposite side. Attacked in front, from the right and the left, the royalists were dislodged from their entrenchments near the lake. They retired behind the palisaded ground, from which they kept up a murderous fire. But the palisade was broken through. First the infantry, then the cavalry of the Protestants rushed through the breaches. A stubborn melee ensued, and was at its height when the muffled rumbling of distant thunder, immediately followed by heavy rain-drops from the blackening sky overhead, announced the approach of the storm that Coligny had that morning predicted.72

I, Antonicq Lebrenn, who write this account, am overcome with grief in completing it. Its close revives sad memories.

After I informed Admiral Coligny of the check sustained by the column of Colonel Plouernel, the kindhearted old man insisted that his own surgeon dress my wound. Though painful, the wound did not prevent me from keeping in the saddle. After being attended by the surgeon, I hastened back to the thick of the battle. A large body of cavalry, commanded by Marshal Tavannes, with the Duke of Anjou, brother of Charles IX, and young Henry of Guise at his side, covered the right wing of the royalist camp. Against that armed body of heavy and light troopers Admiral Coligny hurled twenty squadrons of horsemen under the command of Prince Franz of Gerolstein. It was at that moment that I rejoined the battle. The thunder claps, now succeeding one another with increasing frequency and vehemence, drowned the roar of the artillery. The storm was soon to break out in all its fury. The Protestant cavalry was advancing at a gallop three ranks deep upon the Catholic horsemen. Sword in hand, Franz of Gerolstein led, a few paces in advance of his troopers. The Prince was accompanied by his knights and pages. Among the latter was Anna Bell. The dashing sight soon disappeared from before my eyes in the cloud of pistol smoke, and the dust raised by the horses, as the two opposing masses of riders met each other, pistol in hand and exchanged fire. Suddenly I heard my father's voice calling to me:

"God sends you, my son! Come and fight by my side."

"Father," I said to him drawing up my horse beside his own, he being on the right wing of our army and at the end of a line composed of Rochelois volunteer horsemen who followed upon the heels of the charging contingent of the Prince of Gerolstein, "did you have time to see my sister again after you left me last night?"

"Alas, no; but I found a letter that she left behind, and – "

My father could proceed no further. Two regiments of mounted arquebusiers under the command of Count Neroweg of Plouernel, the colonel's brother, made a charge upon us with the object of isolating us from the German troopers. The manoeuvre succeeded. The impetuosity of the charge threw our ranks into disorder. The enemy broke through them. We could no longer fight in line. A general melee ensued. It was a combat of man to man. Despite the disorder I managed to remain at my father's side. Fate drove us, him and me, face to face with Count Neroweg of Plouernel, at whose side rode his son Odet, a lad of sixteen years, and a great favorite with the Duke of Anjou. I heard the Count cry to him:

"Courage, my boy! Strike hard, and kill as many of the enemy as you can! Prove yourself worthy of the house of Neroweg!"

Almost immediately thereupon I saw the Count rise in his stirrups. His sword was on the point of striking my father when the latter crushed the shoulder of Neroweg with a pistol shot fired at close range. The Count dropped his sword and uttered a piercing cry. His son raised his light arquebus and took aim at my father, just then engaged in replacing his pistol in its holster. Instantly, driven by two digs of my spurs, my horse bounded forward, striking the steed of Odet of Plouernel breast against breast; at the very moment that Odet discharged his arquebus upon my father, I struck the lad so furious a blow with my saber that his casque and skull were cleaved in two. Odet stretched out his arms, and dropped backward bleeding upon the crupper of his horse. In the meantime, my own steed, wounded in the loins by a severe cut, collapsed. In falling, the heavy animal rolled over me, pressing with its full weight upon my wounded thigh. Pain deprived me of the strength to extricate myself. Several combatants trampled me under foot. My corselet was torn open under the iron hoofs of the horses. My morion was knocked in and flattened; pressed by its walls my skull felt as if cramped by a vise. My eyes began to swim; I was about to faint, but a frightful vision so stirred my soul at that moment that I seemed to revive. The melee left in its wake upon the field of carnage the dead, the dying, and the wounded among whom I lay. The spectacle I saw took place not far from my right. A few paces from me, my father, unhorsed by the arquebus of young Odet of Plouernel, raised himself livid, and sank again in a sitting posture, carrying his hands to his cuirass which a bullet had perforated. That same instant the diabolical cry smote my ears:

"Kill all! Kill all!"

And then, in the midst of the roll of thunder overhead, and across the surrounding sheen of lightning flashes, there appeared before my eyes – Fra Hervé, mounted upon a small black horse with long flowing mane, clad in his brown frock rolled up to his knees, and exposing his fleshless legs, naked like his feet which were strapped in spurred sandals wherewith he kicked his horse's flank and urged it onward. A fresh bandage covered his recent wound and girded his hairless skull. His hollow eyes sparkled with savage fury. Armed with a long cutlass that dripped blood he continued to cry:

"Kill all! Kill all!"

The monk led to carnage a band of gallows-birds, the scum and refuse of the Catholic army, whose duty it was to despatch the wounded with iron maces, axes and knives. Hervé recognized his brother Odelin, who, with one hand upon his wound and the other on the ground, was essaying to rise to his feet. An expression of satanic hatred lighted the face of the Cordelier. He jumped down from his horse, and emitted a roar of ferocious triumph. My father gave himself up for lost. Nevertheless he made an attempt to soften the heart of his executioner, saying:

"Hervé, brother! I have a wife and children. Last night I saved your life!"

"Lord!" cried the priest, gasping for breath and raising his fiery eyes and blood-stained cutlass to the thundering and lightning-lighted heaven above. "God of Vengeance! God of the Catholics! Receive as a holocaust the blood of Cain!"

And Fra Hervé precipitated himself upon his brother, threw him down, squatted upon his chest, seized his hair with one hand and with the other brandished the cutlass. Odelin uttered a cry of horror, closed his eyes and offered his throat. The fratricide was accomplished. Fra Hervé rose bespattered with his brother's blood, kicked the corpse with his foot, and jumped back upon his horse yelling:

"Kill all! Slaughter all the wounded!"

My senses, until then held in suspense by the very terror of the frightful spectacle, now abandoned me. I completely lost consciousness. The carnage continued.

When I recovered from my swoon, I was lying on the straw in our smithy and lodging at St. Yrieix. The Franc-Taupin and Colonel Plouernel sat beside my couch. From them I learned the issue of the battle of Roche-la-Belle. It was disastrous to the royalists; they were roundly routed. The violent thunder storm, followed by a deluge of rain, did not allow Admiral Coligny to pursue the retreating Catholic army. The victorious Protestants re-entered St. Yrieix. The Franc-Taupin and his Avengers of Israel, happening to pass by the spot where I lay motionless under my horse, not far from my father's corpse, with his throat cut by Fra Hervé, recognized me and laid me upon a wagon used for transporting the munitions of the artillery. The field of battle was ours. With the help of his companions, the Franc-Taupin piously dug a grave in which they buried my father.