THE FORD BY LARNE

The moral effect of swift and determined action has won many a victory against strong and apparently overwhelming opposition. The sudden charge of a handful of desperate men has often demoralized a whole army, the reckless courage of even a single individual has constantly plucked success out of failure.

To possess the fertile lands of Montvilliers was a hereditary desire amongst the surrounding states. History recounted many a determined struggle in the past which had this end in view, but sometimes by diplomacy, sometimes by splendid and self-sacrificing courage, the attempt had always been frustrated. In later times mere force of arms was not sufficient to ensure success, the rivalry of the nations had to be taken into consideration; and so long as a strong man ruled in Montvilliers the conquest, or the partition, of the state was a difficult matter. This fact was so well understood that during the late Duke's lifetime there had been peace. If for a time his doubtful right to the throne had raised hopes that internal dissension would mean an appeal to the foreigner for help from one party or the other, the Duke had swiftly proved himself a man able to win the confidence of his people and to keep the throne which he had taken. The utter hopelessness of a successful invasion while such a man held the reins of government was apparent to all statesmen. Even such men as Father Bertrand, whose work was done in secret, could do no more than make preparation for the future, and foster that feeling of dissension which was certain to break out at the Duke's death. Pursuing the game which had been mapped out for him, Father Bertrand had played his cards cunningly. He had ingratiated himself with the old Duke, had openly espoused Felix's cause while in secret he had urged the right of Maurice, and had, at the same time, lent countenance to those who would make Christine de Liancourt Duchess. With the Duke's death, and with all these different interests dividing the state, the time to strike had surely come. Secretly the enemy was gradually gathered on the frontier, and their leaders were in constant communication with the Rue St. Romain. Many of these differences, however, seemed likely to adjust themselves at the critical moment, and then, to strengthen his hands, the priest had suddenly given his support to Roger Herrick, a stranger and a foreigner. Almost as soon as he had played this final card he recognized that he had made a mistake. True, there was plenty of opposition to the new Duke, but he was a strong man, equal to grappling with the difficulty, and moreover one who could keep his own counsel.

Rumor had it that some of the nobles who had refused to recognize him and had withdrawn from Vayenne had, nevertheless, joined the Duke's standard on the way to the frontier; but it was only rumor, and Father Bertrand laughed at it. The papers which Mercier had brought came as an unexpected blow. They confirmed the rumor, and told him much more besides. All the plans and schemes so carefully prepared during the last few years were in danger of ruin at the eleventh hour.

The enemy on the frontier, awaiting the final word from the Rue St. Romain, had come to consider the task before them an easy one. A few desperate men might dispute the invasion, but the support of the country would not be behind them. They would be a mere handful, seduced by the glamor of the adventurer who led them, while the great mass of the people was only too anxious for foreign intervention. Such was the story told by Father Bertrand, and fully believed; and a small body of the invaders had already crossed the frontier when the Duke and his army arrived. Compared with the resources of the enemy, Herrick's followers might be considered a handful of men, but the force was far larger than had been anticipated, and the skirmish which quickly occurred proved that this adventurer was a leader of no mean skill. The enemy was repulsed with serious loss, and the first shouts of victory rang from the ranks of the men of Montvilliers.

A narrow stream, swift and deep, formed the frontier line here, and for a few days Herrick maintained his position, and prepared to attack in force. This aggressive policy was totally unexpected, and the enemy, who were weak at this particular spot, sent hastily for reinforcements. Certain of the nobles urged an engagement before these reinforcements could arrive, but Herrick did not move, and although his reasons for delay were not understood, there was no murmuring, for he had already succeeded in inspiring confidence.

One evening, just as darkness fell, the leaders were summoned to his tent, and Herrick explained his plans.

"Comrades, the odds are against us," he said. "With dissension in the country behind us we cannot hope to sustain a long campaign. A sudden and quick issue will serve us better. We have succeeded by the exhibition of great activity in drawing the enemy into force before us, but we do not fight here. There is another battle-ground awaiting us. You know the castle by Larne; to-night we march thither, and the wood behind us will screen our departure. We ought to be well upon our way before the enemy discover that we have gone. Now I want a few brave hearts to remain behind to keep the watchfires burning and to multiply themselves in the shadows so that our secret may be kept until morning. Those who remain must expect a hard reckoning with the daylight."

The certainty of the swift vengeance sure to follow gave fear to none. Every man present was ready to stay, indeed pleaded for the honor.

"I expected no less from such gallant friends," said Herrick, "but at Larne there will be desperate fighting too. Our real effort must be made there."

"Sir, I claim the right to stay," said the old noble who had been so swift to answer Herrick's message bidding all patriots to the meeting-place. "My age, if not my birth, gives me precedence of all here, and my age also tells me that in the midst of a fierce fight my blows may not be so effective as those of younger men. I pray therefore that you will grant me this place of trust. Give me a few stout fellows, and I warrant we will make fires enough, and shadows enough, for a whole army."

"The trust is yours, and I thank you," Herrick answered. "At dawn, as soon as the enemy understand the strategem, to horse at once, and follow us. You shall see our flag floating over Larne, or you shall be in time to help us place it there."

Within an hour men were withdrawing silently through the wood and hurrying toward Larne. There was no moon to betray them, and one of the charcoal-burners, who had joined the army, knew how to avoid the windings of the stream and shorten the journey. But the camp fires blazed all night, and the men who tended them moved rapidly from place to place so that no watchful sentry might have any suspicion of what had happened.

Herrick had hoped to find the garrison at Larne unprepared, but as they approached the castle soon after daylight he found that in this respect he had been too sanguine. The castle stood upon the other side of the stream, and consisted of a great donjon tower and one massive wing in good preservation; the remainder was falling into ruins, or lay in heaps of dÉbris. For a mile or more to left and right the river broadened out, but close by the tower there was a ford, impassable in the winter-time, but comparatively easy to cross at this season of the year. This ford was well defended. Across it the enemy had intended to enter Montvilliers presently, and until the call for reinforcements had come, it was fully expected that whatever opposition was made would be made here. Although Herrick's strategem had had the effect of weakening the defence, it was soon evident that if victory were to come it would have to be dearly bought.

"The castle must be ours," said Herrick as he gave his commands; "the salvation of Montvilliers depends upon it."

"It shall be!" was the shout as Gaspard Lemasle led his men to the attack.

That fight for the ford by Larne will live long in history. With the first dash into the swiftly running stream the tower belched forth fire, and the clear waters were quickly stained with blood. Corpses were swirled away savagely as though the waters themselves took part in the struggle, or slithered along by the banks with the other rubbish which the stream brought down. Some there were who, sorely wounded, managed to reach the bank, and others with a cry slowly sank, and were drowned. Lemasle and his men were presently sent reeling back, and the enemy attacking fiercely were driven back in their turn. Rush after rush was made, now from one side, now from the other, and each time a deadly struggle ensued for a few minutes in the midst of the waters, friend and foe so intermingled that the fire from the tower was forced to cease, and the struggle became a hand-to-hand one. Blades flashed above the seething mass as though lightning played there, and the air was full of panting endeavor, of rough, loud oaths, and shrieks and groans of pain. Ever the stream ran more deeply red and carried down its human rubbish. For two hours or more the equal fight went on, and to neither side was there any advantage. Herrick had ridden this way and that to find another crossing out of the range of the fire from the tower, but in vain; the stream was too deep and wide to cross except at the ford. Time became of increasing value. Long before this the enemy farther up the stream must have discovered the deception which had been practised upon them; in a little while they would be hastening back, and then all hope of success must vanish. The ford must be won, and that quickly.

"Charge once more, Lemasle, hold them for a few moments, and when I shout break to either side, and let us through. We must win now, or we shall be too late."

Again the waters were churned and blood-stained by a fiercely fighting crowd, and then, at a shout, the attacking party broke suddenly, many of the men plunging into the deep waters on either side and swimming back to the bank. At the head of a strong and chosen band Herrick dashed into the gap. The sudden and unexpected relaxation of the pressure had thrown the enemy forward in some confusion, and they were unprepared to stand against the swift and compact mass hurled against them. With irresistible force they were swept back across the ford, and Herrick and his followers stormed the opposite bank.

"It is now or never!" he cried, and the foremost ranks were carried forward by those who rushed across the stream behind them. Nothing was able to stop this supreme effort, and the stormers swept up the bank as a great wave rushes up a low beach of shingle.

Whether they lacked leaders, or whether the heart was out of them, the enemy quickly became a struggling crowd rather than a compact fighting force, and Herrick was prompt to seize the advantage gained. With sharp commands, rapidly repeated on all sides, he kept his men together, and almost before the enemy were fully conscious that they had lost the ford, they were being attacked and driven from the gates which gave entrance to the tower. It was soon evident that every available man had been used for the stream's defence, and, the ford lost, the winning of the castle was an easy matter. No determined voice or action arrested the sudden panic. Men threw down their arms, the guns were silent, and in a very little while Herrick was issuing quick commands for the castle's occupation.

"Turn the guns to face the enemy, who must soon be upon us," he said. "See to it, Briant. Post sentries, and then rest, comrades, while you may. Before nightfall we shall be in the thick of it again."

For Herrick there was no rest yet. He was busy looking to every point of defence and giving brief words of praise to every man. The victory was even more complete than he had hoped for, because the castle had been used as a base of operations, and a large quantity of stores had consequently fallen into his hand.

The cheers which greeted him as he passed from point to point were pleasant to his ears, as they always must be to the man who has set heavy odds at naught and triumphed. Only a little while since many of those who now shouted the loudest had left the great hall at Vayenne in silence—his enemies. It would have been strange, beyond all human nature, if for a time some sense of self-satisfaction had not dominated his thoughts. For a little he enjoyed the shouting, and then turned to Lemasle.

"That is a good sound, but the struggle is not yet over."

"Perhaps not, but we have the tower, sir." And the captain's face, grimy and blood-stained, broke into a wide smile of complacency.

"True, and that counts for much," Herrick answered, and as he hurried away all thought of self was forgotten. He went to one of the guard-rooms, where some of the prisoners had been gathered, and after looking at them he selected one man, and commanded him to follow him. Once in the passage outside he put his hand firmly on the man's shoulder.

"In which part of the castle is the prisoner confined?" he asked.

"The prisoner! What prisoner?" said the man, turning toward him to find himself looking into the barrel of a revolver.

"I could find him, but I have no time to waste in searching," Herrick returned, "therefore, my friend, choose quickly. If you prefer death, one of your companions yonder is likely to prefer life under the same persuasion."

The man hesitated for a moment, and then went forward, turning presently to mount a spiral stone stairway set in the tower. Before a small door on an upper landing he stopped.

"He is in there."

"Good. Now you shall show me where I can find the key of this prison."

"Indeed, sir, I was not his jailer."

"Still you may find the key. There is little secrecy about the jailer's office. You must go quickly, for this is not the sort of day on which a man has much patience to spare."

The key was found in the jailer's empty room, and when Herrick had taken the man back to the guard-room he mounted the spiral staircase alone. He paused for an instant before putting the key into the lock, and it was evident that his thoughts had suddenly wandered.

"At least one task I have set myself is accomplished," he murmured as he opened the heavy door.

There presently galloped across the ford the old noble and those who had remained to cover the secret night march of the army. They had not escaped unscathed, for in the early morning they had been fired at, and half a dozen men had fallen by the watchfires they had tended. No opposition met the little band at the water's edge, for the flag was already flying from the tower at Larne. Their coming, however, heralded the speedy return of the main body of the enemy, and before nightfall the guns were speaking again.

The struggle was not at an end. With the greater part of their stores lost, the foe were in a precarious position, and desperate attempts were made to recapture the castle. Time had become of consequence to them. Herrick recognized that the castle was not strong enough to stand a siege, and his first care was to prevent the besiegers taking up any strong position. Sorties were constantly made, and there were skirmishes which were almost of sufficient importance to be called battles. In these, ever fighting by his side, was the prisoner Herrick had released from the tower. When he was not fighting he kept himself in the background, and few knew, or cared, who he was. Each man's time was too fully occupied to indulge in idle speculation.

In these skirmishes Fortune's favors were distributed fairly equally. Often, Herrick did not accomplish all he meant to do, but he had one real advantage: the chief success of the struggle was his, and his enemies were disheartened. Dissensions, too, had grown up in their ranks, and many declared that they had been deceived by the information sent them from Vayenne. Instead of the easy task they had been led to expect, they had been vigorously attacked, and all the fighting had taken place on their side of the frontier. They began to talk of peace, and the first flag of truce had been raised before Mercier had left for Vayenne. The papers he brought to Father Bertrand declared that peace was imminent, and indeed terms had been agreed upon by the time the papers came into the priest's hands, and Herrick was leading the larger portion of his victorious army back to Vayenne.

The camp had been pitched for the night at the juncture of the Passey road with the high road from Lame. No messengers had been sent forward to the city. Herrick intended to return without warning, and if treachery were within the gates he could easily crush it now. Some of the nobles had left him, returning to their own estates, but it was with a promise to come to Vayenne within a week. They understood the Duke much better than they had done, and Herrick's popularity was established beyond all question.

With early morning came another parting. A small body of men separated from the rest and went slowly along the Passey road. The man who had been released from the tower at Larne lingered beside Herrick for a few moments, talking earnestly, then he saluted, and rode after his companions.

"Forward, comrades!" Herrick said when he had gone. "They must be eagerly awaiting our news in Vayenne."

Some hours later a solitary and queer-looking horseman met them. The animal had been ridden hard, the man was bare-headed and unkempt, and green and scarlet showed from under his disordered and dusty cloak. There was a strange, low jingling of bells as he came.

"Where is the Duke?" he cried as he met the foremost ranks.

"Jean! What is it? What is the news?"

"Ay, Jean it is. Where is the Duke?"

"Yonder. What has happened?"

But the dwarf stayed to answer no questions. He pressed forward to Herrick.

"Jean! What is it?"

"Treachery and rebellion in the city. The gates are closed against you, and Mademoiselle is to be Duchess, and marries Count Felix."

"When?"

The sharp question had a note of agony in it.

"At once; but we may yet be in time. No one knows of the landing-place you and I used that night. I can tell you everything as we go."

"Lemasle! Lemasle!" cried Herrick, and he hastened to meet the captain as he came hurriedly at the call. For a few moments he poured a torrent of eager orders into his ears. "I will ride forward with a score of men, Lemasle. I know a way into the city that they do not dream of. You shall find the gates open to-morrow, or there will be need for another Duke of Montvilliers. Give Jean another horse. That poor brute is done, and will never do the journey in time. A score of men, Lemasle! Quickly! There are vipers in Vayenne, comrades, that must be crushed. We go to crush them. Come, Jean! Forward! Gallop! The next few hours hold more than life for me."

"Long live the Duke!" they cried as they galloped forward, and the same shout rang out lustily from the ranks of those they left behind them.

That night Jean's boat crossed the river several times, and Herrick and his men scaled the wall by the haunted house, and entered Vayenne.