and down for more than two hours after he left the king, and
the sound of his footsteps has only ceased during the last
ten minutes. However, you may look and see," added the
lackey, raising the curtained entrance of the tent.
Lord Winter was seated near an aperture, arranged as a
window to let in the night air, his eyes mechanically
following the course of the moon, intermittently veiled, as
we before observed, by heavy clouds. The two friends
approached Winter, who, with his head on his hands, was
gazing at the heavens; he did not hear them enter and
remained in the same attitude till he felt a hand upon his
shoulder.
He turned around, recognized Athos and Aramis and held out
his hand to them.
"Have you observed," said he to them, "what a blood-red
color the moon has to-night?"
"No," replied Athos; "I thought it looked much the same as
usual."
"Look, again, chevalier," returned Lord Winter.
"I must own," said Aramis, "I am like the Comte de la Fere
-- I can see nothing remarkable about it."
"My lord," said Athos, "in a position so precarious as ours
we must examine the earth and not the heavens. Have you
studied our Scotch troops and have you confidence in them?"
"The Scotch?" inquired Winter. "What Scotch?"
"Ours, egad!" exclaimed Athos. "Those in whom the king has
confided -- Lord Leven's Highlanders."
"No," said Winter, then he paused; "but tell me, can you not
perceive the russet tint which marks the heavens?"
"Not the least in the world," said Aramis and Athos at once.
"Tell me," continued Winter, always possessed by the same
idea, "is there not a tradition in France that Henry IV.,
the evening before the day he was assassinated, when he was
playing at chess with M. de Bassompiere, saw clots of blood
upon the chessboard?"
"Yes," said Athos, "and the marechal has often told me so
himself."
"Then it was so," murmured Winter, "and the next day Henry
IV. was killed."
"But what has this vision of Henry IV. to do with you, my
lord?" inquired Aramis.
"Nothing; and indeed I am mad to trouble you with such
things, when your coming to my tent at such an hour
announces that you are the bearers of important news."
"Yes, my lord," said Athos, "I wish to speak to the king."
"To the king! but the king is asleep."
"I have something important to reveal to him."
"Can it not be put off till to-morrow?"
"He must know it this moment, and perhaps it is already too
late."
"Come, then," said Lord Winter.
Lord Winter's tent was pitched by the side of the royal
marquee, a kind of corridor communicating between the two.
This corridor was guarded, not by a sentinel, but by a
confidential servant, through whom, in case of urgency,
Charles could communicate instantly with his faithful
subject.
"These gentlemen are with me," said Winter.
The lackey bowed and let them pass. As he had said, on a
camp bed, dressed in his black doublet, booted, unbelted,
with his felt hat beside him, lay the king, overcome by
sleep and fatigue. They advanced, and Athos, who was the
first to enter, gazed a moment in silence on that pale and
noble face, framed in its long and now untidy, matted hair,
the blue veins showing through the transparent temples, his
eyes seemingly swollen by tears.
Athos sighed deeply; the sigh woke the king, so lightly did
he sleep.
He opened his eyes.
"Ah!" said he, raising himself on his elbow, "is it you,
Comte de la Fere?"
"Yes, sire," replied Athos.
"You watch while I sleep and you have come to bring me some
news?"
"Alas, sire," answered Athos, "your majesty has guessed
aright."
"It is bad news?"
"Yes, sire."
"Never mind; the messenger is welcome. You never come to me
without conferring pleasure. You whose devotion recognizes
neither country nor misfortune, you who are sent to me by
Henrietta; whatever news you bring, speak out."
"Sire, Cromwell has arrived this night at Newcastle."
"Ah!" exclaimed the king, "to fight?"
"No, sire, but to buy your majesty."
"What did you say?"
"I said, sire, that four hundred thousand pounds are owing
to the Scottish army."
"For unpaid wages; yes, I know it. For the last year my
faithful Highlanders have fought for honor alone."
Athos smiled.
"Well, sir, though honor is a fine thing, they are tired of
fighting for it, and to-night they have sold you for two
hundred thousand pounds -- that is to say, for half what is
owing them."
"Impossible!" cried the king, "the Scotch sell their king
for two hundred thousand pounds! And who is the Judas who
has concluded this infamous bargain?"
"Lord Leven."
"Are you certain of it, sir?"
"I heard it with my own ears."
The king sighed deeply, as if his heart would break, and
then buried his face in his hands.
"Oh! the Scotch," he exclaimed, "the Scotch I called `my
faithful,' to whom I trusted myself when I could have fled
to Oxford! the Scotch, my brothers! But are you well
assured, sir?"
"Lying behind the tent of Lord Leven, I raised it and saw
all, heard all!"
"And when is this to be consummated?"
"To-day -- this morning; so your majesty must perceive there
is no time to lose!"
"To do what? since you say I am sold."
"To cross the Tyne, reach Scotland and rejoin Lord Montrose,
who will not sell you."
"And what shall I do in Scotland? A war of partisans,
unworthy of a king."
"The example of Robert Bruce will absolve you, sire."
"No, no! I have fought too long; they have sold me, they
shall give me up, and the eternal shame of treble treason
shall fall on their heads."
"Sire," said Athos, "perhaps a king should act thus, but not
a husband and a father. I have come in the name of your wife
and daughter and of the children you have still in London,
and I say to you, `Live, sire,' -- it is the will of
Heaven."
The king raised himself, buckled on his belt, and passing
his handkerchief over his moist forehead, said:
"Well, what is to be done?"
"Sire, have you in the army one regiment on which you can
implicitly rely?"
"Winter," said the king, "do you believe in the fidelity of
yours?"
"Sire, they are but men, and men are become both weak and
wicked. I will not answer for them. I would confide my life
to them, but I should hesitate ere I trusted them with your
majesty's."
"Well!" said Athos, "since you have not a regiment, we are
three devoted men. It is enough. Let your majesty mount on
horseback and place yourself in the midst of us; we will
cross the Tyne, reach Scotland, and you will be saved."
"Is this your counsel also, Winter?" inquired the king.
"Yes, sire."
"And yours, Monsieur d'Herblay?"
"Yes, sire."
"As you wish, then. Winter, give the necessary orders."
Winter then left the tent; in the meantime the king finished
his toilet. The first rays of daybreak penetrated the
aperture of the tent as Winter re-entered it.
"All is ready, sire," said he.
"For us, also?" inquired Athos.
"Grimaud and Blaisois are holding your horses, ready
saddled."
"In that case," exclaimed Athos, "let us not lose an
instant, but set off."
"Come," added the king.
"Sire," said Aramis, "will not your majesty acquaint some of
your friends of this?"
"Friends!" answered Charles, sadly, "I have but three -- one
of twenty years, who has never forgotten me, and two of a
week's standing, whom I shall never forget. Come, gentlemen,
come!"
The king quitted his tent and found his horse ready waiting
for him. It was a chestnut that the king had ridden for
three years and of which he was very fond.
The horse neighed with pleasure at seeing him.
"Ah!" said the king, "I was unjust; here is a creature that
loves me. You at least will be faithful to me, Arthur."
The horse, as if it understood these words, bent its red
nostrils toward the king's face, and parting his lips
displayed all its teeth, as if with pleasure.
"Yes, yes," said the king, caressing it with his hand, "yes,
my Arthur, thou art a fond and faithful creature."
After this little scene Charles threw himself into the
saddle, and turning to Athos, Aramis and Winter, said:
"Now, gentlemen, I am at your service."
But Athos was standing with his eyes fixed on a black line
which bordered the banks of the Tyne and seemed to extend
double the length of the camp.
"What is that line?" cried Athos, whose vision was still
rather obscured by the uncertain shades and demi-tints of
daybreak. "What is that line? I did not observe it
yesterday."
"It must be the fog rising from the river," said the king.
"Sire, it is something more opaque than the fog."
"Indeed!" said Winter, "it appears to me like a bar of red
color."
"It is the enemy, who have made a sortie from Newcastle and
are surrounding us!" exclaimed Athos.
"The enemy!" cried the king.
"Yes, the enemy. It is too late. Stop a moment; does not
that sunbeam yonder, just by the side of the town, glitter
on the Ironsides?"
This was the name given the cuirassiers, whom Cromwell had
made his body-guard.
"Ah!" said the king, "we shall soon see whether my
Highlanders have betrayed me or not."
"What are you going to do?" exclaimed Athos.
"To give them the order to charge, and run down these
miserable rebels."
And the king, putting spurs to his horse, set off to the
tent of Lord Leven.
"Follow him," said Athos.
"Come!" exclaimed Aramis.
"Is the king wounded?" cried Lord Winter. "I see spots of
blood on the ground." And he set off to follow the two
friends.
He was stopped by Athos.
"Go and call out your regiment," said he; "I can foresee
that we shall have need of it directly."
Winter turned his horse and the two friends rode on. It had
taken but two minutes for the king to reach the tent of the
Scottish commander; he dismounted and entered.
The general was there, surrounded by the more prominent
chiefs.
"The king!" they exclaimed, as all rose in bewilderment.
Charles was indeed in the midst of them, his hat on his
head, his brows bent, striking his boot with his riding
whip.
"Yes, gentlemen, the king in person, the king who has come
to ask for some account of what has happened."
"What is the matter, sire?" exclaimed Lord Leven.
"It is this, sir," said the king, angrily, "that General
Cromwell has reached Newcastle; that you knew it and I was
not informed of it; that the enemy have left the town and
are now closing the passages of the Tyne against us; that
our sentinels have seen this movement and I have been left
unacquainted with it; that, by an infamous treaty you have
sold me for two hundred thousand pounds to Parliament. Of
this treaty, at least, I have been warned. This is the
matter, gentlemen; answer and exculpate yourselves, for I
stand here to accuse you."
"Sire," said Lord Leven, with hesitation, "sire, your
majesty has been deceived by false reports."
"My own eyes have seen the enemy extend itself between
myself and Scotland; and I can almost say that with my own
ears I have heard the clauses of the treaty debated."
The Scotch chieftains looked at each other in their turn
with frowning brows.
"Sire," murmured Lord Leven, crushed by shame, "sire, we are
ready to give you every proof of our fidelity."
"I ask but one," said the king; "put the army in battle
array and face the enemy."
"That cannot be, sire," said the earl.
"How, cannot be? What hinders it?" exclaimed the king.
"Your majesty is well aware that there is a truce between us
and the English army."
"And if there is a truce the English army has broken it by
quitting the town, contrary to the agreement which kept it
there. Now, I tell you, you must pass with me through this
army across to Scotland, and if you refuse you may choose
betwixt two names, which the contempt of all honest men will
brand you with -- you are either cowards or traitors!"
The eyes of the Scotch flashed fire; and, as often happens
on such occasions, from shame they passed to effrontery and
two heads of clans advanced upon the king.
"Yes," said they, "we have promised to deliver Scotland and
England from him who for the last five-and-twenty years has
sucked the blood and gold of Scotland and England. We have
promised and we will keep our promise. Charles Stuart, you
are our prisoner."
And both extended their hands as if to seize the king, but
before they could touch him with the tips of their fingers,
both had fallen, one dead, the other stunned.
Aramis had passed his sword through the body of the first
and Athos had knocked down the other with the butt end of
his pistol.
Then, as Lord Leven and the other chieftains recoiled before
this unexpected rescue, which seemed to come from Heaven for
the prince they already thought was their prisoner, Athos
