for a Flemish army.'
The jester's speech made the Duke laugh, and perhaps prevented a farther prosecution of the altercation betwixt him and his general.
By dint of great exertion, a small lust-haus, or country villa of some wealthy citizen of Liege, was secured and cleared of other occupants, for the accommodation of the Duke and his immediate attendants; and the authority of D'Hymbercourt and Crevecoeur at length established a guard in the vicinity, of about forty men-at- arms, who lighted a very large fire, made with the timber of the outhouses, which they pulled down for the purpose.
A little to the left of this villa, and betwixt it and the suburb, which, as we have said, was opposite to the city-gate, and occupied by the Burgundian vanguard, lay another pleasure-house, surrounded by a garden and court-yard, and having two or three small enclosures or fields in the rear of it. In this the King of France established his own head-quarters. He did not himself pretend to be a soldier, further than a natural indifference to danger and much sagacity qualified him to be called such; but he was always careful to employ the most skilful in that profession, and reposed in them the confidence they merited. Louis and his immediate attendants occupied this second villa; a part of his Scottish Guard were placed in the court, where there were outhouses and sheds to shelter them from the weather; the rest were stationed in the garden. The remainder of the French men-at-arms were quartered closely together and in good order, with alarmposts stationed, in case of their having to sustain an attack.
Dunois and Crawford, assisted by several old officers and soldiers, amongst whom Le Balafre was conspicuous for his diligence, contrived, by breaking down walls, making openings through hedges, filling up ditches, and the like, to facilitate the communication of the troops with each other, and the orderly combination of the whole in case of necessity.
Meanwhile, the King judged it proper to go without farther ceremony to the quarters of the Duke of Burgundy, to ascertain what was to be the order of proceeding, and what co-operation was expected from him. His presence occasioned a sort of council of war to be held, of which Charles might not otherwise have dreamed.
It was then that Quentin Durward prayed earnestly to be admitted, as having something of importance to deliver to the two Princes. This was obtained without much difficulty, and great was the astonishment of Louis, when he heard him calmly and distinctly relate the purpose of William de la Marck, to make a sally upon the camp of the besiegers, under the dress and banners of the French. Louis would probably have been much better pleased to have had such important news communicated in private; but as the whole story had been publicly told in presence of the Duke of Burgundy, he only observed, 'that, whether true or false, such a report concerned them most materially.'
'Not a whit! – not a whit!' said the Duke, carelessly. 'Had there been such a purpose as this young man announces, it had not been communicated to me by an Archer of the Scottish Guard.'
'However that may be,' answered Louis, 'I pray you, fair cousin, you and your captains, to attend, that to prevent the unpleasing consequences of such an attack, should it be made unexpectedly, I will cause my soldiers to wearr white scarfs over their armour – Dunois, see it given out on the instant – that is,' he added, 'if our brother and general approves of it.'
'I see no objection,' replied the Duke, 'if the chivalry of France are willing to run the risk of having the name of Knights of the Smock-sleeve bestowed on them in future.'
'It would be a right well adapted title, friend Charles,' said Le Glorieux, 'considering that a woman is the reward of the most valiant.'
'Well spoken, Sagacity,' said Louis – 'Cousin, good-night, I will go arm me. – By the way, what if I win the Countess with mine own hand?'
'Your Majesty,' said the Duke, in an altered tone of voice, 'must then become a true Fleming.'
'I cannot,' answered Louis, in a tone of the most sincere confidence, 'be more so than I am already, could I but bring you, my dear cousin, to believe it.'
The Duke only replied by wishing the King good-night, in a tone resembling the snort of a shy horse, starting from the caress of the rider when he is about to mount, and is soothing him to stand still.
'I could pardon all his duplicity,' said the Duke to Crevecoeur, 'but cannot forgive his supposing me capable of the gross folly of being duped by his professions.'
Louis, too, had his confidences with Oliver le Dain when he returned to his own quarters. – 'This Scot,' he said, 'is such a mixture of shrewdness and simplicity, that I know not what to make of him. Pasques-dieu! think of his unpardonable folly in bringing out honest De la Marck's plan of a sally before the face of Burgundy, Crevecoeur, and all of them, instead of rounding it in my ear, and giving me at least the choice of abetting or defeating it!'
'It is better as it is, Sire,' said Oliver; 'there are many in your present train who would scruple to assail Burgundy undefied, or to ally themselves with De la Marck.'
'Thou art right, Oliver. Such fools there are in the world, and we have no time to reconcile their scruples by a little dose of self-interest. We must be true men, Oliver, and good allies of Burgundy, for this night at least, – time may give us a chance of a better game. Go, tell no man to unarm himself; and let them shoot, in case of necessity, as sharply on those who cry France and St Dennis! as if they cried Hell and Satan! I will myself sleep in my armour. Let Crawford place Quentin Durward on the extreme point of our line of sentinels, next to the city. Let him e'en have the first benefit of the sally which he has announced to us – if his luck bear him out, it is the better for him. But take an especial care of Martius Galeotti, and see he remain in the rear, in a place of the most absolute safety – he is even but too venturous; and, like a fool, would be both swordsman and philosopher. See to these things, Oliver, and good-night – Our Lady of Clery, and Monseigneur Saint Martin of Tours, be gracious to my slumbers!'[60]
CHAPTER XX. THE SALLY.
He look'd, and saw what numbers numberless
The city-gates out-pour'd.
A dead silence soon reigned over that great host which lay in leaguer before Liege. For a long time the cries of the soldiers repeating their signals, and seeking to join their several banners, sounded like the howling of bewildered dogs seeking their masters. But at length overcome with weariness by the fatigues of the day, the dispersed soldiers crowded under such shelter as they could meet with, and those who could find none, sunk down through very fatigue, under walls, hedges, and such temporary protection, there to wait for morning, – a morning which some of them were never to behold. A dead sleep fell on almost all, excepting those who kept a faint and weary watch by the lodgings of the King and the Duke. The dangers and hopes of the morrow – even the schemes of glory which many of the young nobility had founded upon the splendid prize held out to him who should avenge the murdered Bishop of Liege – glided from their recollection as they lay stupified with fatigue and sleep. But not so with Quentin Durward. The knowledge that he alone was possessed of the means of distinguishing La Marck in the contest – the recollection by whom that information had been communicated, and the fair augury which might be drawn from her conveying it to him – the thought that his fortune had brought him to a most perilous and doubtful crisis indeed, but one where there was still, at least, a chance of his coming off triumphant, banished every desire to sleep, and strung his nerves with vigour, which defied fatigue.
Posted, by the King's express order, on the extreme point between the French quarters and the town, a good way to the right of the suburb which we have mentioned, he sharpened his eye to penetrate the mass which lay before him, and excited his ears, to catch the slightest sound which might announce any commotion in the beleaguered city. But its huge clocks had successively knelled three hours after midnight, and all continued still and silent as the grave.
At length, and just when Quentin began to think the attack would be deferred till daybreak, and joyfully recollected that there would be then light enough to descry the Bar Sinister across the Fleurde-lis of Orleans, he