look yonder!"
At this instant the squadron, that ought to have protected
Charles's retreat, was advancing to meet the English
regiments. The king, who was entirely surrounded, walked
alone in a great empty space. He appeared calm, but it was
evidently not without a mighty effort. Drops of perspiration
trickled down his face, and from time to time he put a
handkerchief to his mouth to wipe away the blood that rilled
from it.
"Behold Nebuchadnezzar!" exclaimed an old Puritan soldier,
whose eyes flashed at the sight of the man they called the
tyrant.
"Do you call him Nebuchadnezzar?" said Mordaunt, with a
terrible smile; "no, it is Charles the First, the king, the
good King Charles, who despoils his subjects to enrich
himself."
Charles glanced a moment at the insolent creature who
uttered this, but did not recognize him. Nevertheless, the
calm religious dignity of his countenance abashed Mordaunt.
"Bon jour, messieurs!" said the king to the two gentlemen
who were held by D'Artagnan and Porthos. "The day has been
unfortunate, but it is not your fault, thank God! But where
is my old friend Winter?"
The two gentlemen turned away their heads in silence.
"In Strafford's company," said Mordaunt, tauntingly.
Charles shuddered. The demon had known how to wound him. The
remembrance of Strafford was a source of lasting remorse to
him, the shadow that haunted him by day and night. The king
looked around him. He saw a corpse at his feet. It was
Winter's. He uttered not a word, nor shed a tear, but a
deadly pallor spread over his face; he knelt down on the
ground, raised Winter's head, and unfastening the Order of
the Saint Esprit, placed it on his own breast.
"Lord Winter is killed, then?" inquired D'Artagnan, fixing
his eyes on the corpse.
"Yes," said Athos, "by his own nephew."
"Come, he was the first of us to go; peace be to him! he was
an honest man," said D'Artagnan.
"Charles Stuart," said the colonel of the English regiment,
approaching the king, who had just put on the insignia of
royalty, "do you yield yourself a prisoner?"
"Colonel Tomlison," said Charles, "kings cannot yield; the
man alone submits to force."
"Your sword."
The king drew his sword and broke it on his knee.
At this moment a horse without a rider, covered with foam,
his nostrils extended and eyes all fire, galloped up, and
recognizing his master, stopped and neighed with pleasure;
it was Arthur.
The king smiled, patted it with his hand and jumped lightly
into the saddle.
"Now, gentlemen," said he, "conduct me where you will."
Turning back again, he said, "I thought I saw Winter move;
if he still lives, by all you hold most sacred, do not
abandon him."
"Never fear, King Charles," said Mordaunt, "the bullet
pierced his heart."
"Do not breathe a word nor make the least sign to me or
Porthos," said D'Artagnan to Athos and Aramis, "that you
recognize this man, for Milady is not dead; her soul lives
in the body of this demon."
The detachment now moved toward the town with the royal
captive; but on the road an aide-de-camp, from Cromwell,
sent orders that Colonel Tomlison should conduct him to
Holdenby Castle.
At the same time couriers started in every direction over
England and Europe to announce that Charles Stuart was the
prisoner of Oliver Cromwell.
57
Oliver Cromwell.
"Have you been to the general?" said Mordaunt to D'Artagnan
and Porthos; "you know he sent for you after the action."
"We want first to put our prisoners in a place of safety,"
replied D'Artagnan. "Do you know, sir, these gentlemen are
each of them worth fifteen hundred pounds?"
"Oh, be assured," said Mordaunt, looking at them with an
expression he vainly endeavoured to soften, "my soldiers
will guard them, and guard them well, I promise you."
"I shall take better care of them myself," answered
D'Artagnan; "besides, all they require is a good room, with
sentinels, or their simple parole that they will not attempt
escape. I will go and see about that, and then we shall have
the honor of presenting ourselves to the general and
receiving his commands for his eminence."
"You think of starting at once, then?" inquired Mordaunt.
"Our mission is ended, and there is nothing more to detain
us now but the good pleasure of the great man to whom we
were sent."
The young man bit his lips and whispered to his sergeant:
"You will follow these men and not lose sight of them; when
you have discovered where they lodge, come and await me at
the town gate."
The sergeant made a sign of comprehension.
Instead of following the knot of prisoners that were being
taken into the town, Mordaunt turned his steps toward the
rising ground from whence Cromwell had witnessed the battle
and on which he had just had his tent pitched.
Cromwell had given orders that no one was to be allowed
admission; but the sentinel, who knew that Mordaunt was one
of the most confidential friends of the general, thought the
order did not extend to the young man. Mordaunt, therefore,
raised the canvas, and saw Cromwell seated before a table,
his head buried in his hands, his back being turned.
Whether he heard Mordaunt or not as he entered, Cromwell did
not move. Mordaunt remained standing near the door. At last,
after a few moments, Cromwell raised his head, and, as if he
divined that some one was there, turned slowly around.
"I said I wished to be alone," he exclaimed, on seeing the
young man.
"They thought this order did not concern me, sir;
nevertheless, if you wish it, I am ready to go."
"Ah! is it you, Mordaunt?" said Cromwell, the cloud passing
away from his face; "since you are here, it is well; you may
remain."
"I come to congratulate you."
"To congratulate me -- what for?"
"On the capture of Charles Stuart. You are now master of
England."
"I was much more really so two hours ago."
"How so, general?"
"Because England had need of me to take the tyrant, and now
the tyrant is taken. Have you seen him?"
"Yes, sir." said Mordaunt.
"What is his bearing?"
Mordaunt hesitated; but it seemed as though he was
constrained to tell the truth.
"Calm and dignified," said he.
"What did he say?"
"Some parting words to his friends."
"His friends!" murmured Cromwell. "Has he any friends?" Then
he added aloud, "Did he make any resistance?"
"No, sir, with the exception of two or three friends every
one deserted him; he had no means of resistance."
"To whom did he give up his sword?"
"He did not give it up; he broke it."
"He did well; but instead of breaking it, he might have used
it to still more advantage."
There was a momentary pause.
"I heard that the colonel of the regiment that escorted
Charles was killed," said Cromwell, staring very fixedly at
Mordaunt.
"Yes, sir."
"By whom?" inquired Cromwell.
"By me."
"What was his name?"
"Lord Winter."
"Your uncle?" exclaimed Cromwell.
"My uncle," answered Mordaunt; "but traitors to England are
no longer members of my family."
Cromwell observed the young man a moment in silence, then,
with that profound melancholy Shakespeare describes so well:
"Mordaunt," he said, "you are a terrible servant."
"When the Lord commands," said Mordaunt, "His commands are
not to be disputed. Abraham raised the knife against Isaac,
and Isaac was his son."
"Yes," said Cromwell, "but the Lord did not suffer that
sacrifice to be accomplished."
"I have looked around me," said Mordaunt, "and I have seen
neither goat nor kid caught among the bushes of the plain."
Cromwell bowed. "You are strong among the strong, Mordaunt,"
he said; "and the Frenchmen, how did they behave?"
"Most fearlessly."
"Yes, yes," murmured Cromwell; "the French fight well; and
if my glass was good and I mistake not, they were foremost
in the fight."
"They were," replied Mordaunt.
"After you, however," said Cromwell.
"It was the fault of their horses, not theirs."
Another pause
"And the Scotch?"
"They kept their word and never stirred," said Mordaunt.
"Wretched men!"
"Their officers wish to see you, sir."
"I have no time to see them. Are they paid?"
"Yes, to-night."
"Let them be off and return to their own country, there to
hide their shame, if its hills are high enough; I have
nothing more to do with them nor they with me. And now go,
Mordaunt."
"Before I go," said Mordaunt, "I have some questions and a
favor to ask you, sir."
"A favor from me?"
Mordaunt bowed.
"I come to you, my leader, my head, my father, and I ask
you, master, are you contented with me?"
Cromwell looked at him with astonishment. The young man
remained immovable.
"Yes," said Cromwell; "you have done, since I knew you, not
only your duty, but more than your duty; you have been a
faithful friend, a cautious negotiator, a brave soldier."
"Do you remember, sir it was my idea, the Scotch treaty, for
giving up the king?"
"Yes, the idea was yours. I had no such contempt for men
before."
"Was I not a good ambassador in France?"
"Yes, for Mazarin has granted what I desire."
"Have I not always fought for your glory and interests?"
"Too ardently, perhaps; it is what I have just reproached
you for. But what is the meaning of all these questions?"
"To tell you, my lord, that the moment has now arrived when,
with a single word, you may recompense all these services."
"Oh!" said Oliver, with a slight curl of his lip, "I forgot
that every service merits some reward and that up to this
moment you have not been paid."
"Sir, I can take my pay at this moment, to the full extent
of my wishes."
"How is that?"
"I have the payment under my hand; I almost possess it."
"What is it? Have they offered you money? Do you wish a
step, or some place in the government?"
"Sir, will you grant me my request?"
"Let us hear what it is, first."
"Sir, when you have told me to obey an order did I ever
answer, `Let me see that order '?"
"If, however, your wish should be one impossible to
fulfill?"
"When you have cherished a wish and have charged me with its
fulfillment, have I ever replied, `It is impossible'?"
"But a request preferred with so much preparation ---- "
"Ah, do not fear, sir," said Mordaunt, with apparent
simplicity: "it will not ruin you."
"Well, then," said Cromwell, "I promise, as far as lies in
my power, to grant your request; proceed."
"Sir, two prisoners were taken this morning, will you let me
have them?"
"For their ransom? have they then offered a large one?"
inquired Cromwell.
"On the contrary, I think they are poor, sir."
"They are friends of yours, then?"
"Yes, sir," exclaimed Mordaunt, "they are friends, dear
friends of mine, and I would lay down my life for them."
"Very well, Mordaunt," exclaimed Cromwell, pleased at having
his opinion of the young man raised once more; "I will give
them to you; I will not even ask who they are; do as you
like with them."
"Thank you, sir!" exclaimed Mordaunt, "thank you; my life is
always at your service, and should I lose it I should still
owe you something; thank you; you have indeed repaid me
munificently for my services."
He threw himself at the feet of Cromwell, and in spite of
the efforts of the Puritan general, who did not like this
almost kingly homage, he took his hand and kissed it.
"What!" said Cromwell, arresting him for a moment as he
arose; "is there nothing more you wish? neither gold nor
rank?"
"You have given me all you can give me, and from to-day your
debt is paid."
And Mordaunt darted out of the general's tent, his heart
beating and his eyes sparkling with joy.
Cromwell gazed a moment after him.
"He has slain his uncle!" he murmured. "Alas! what are my
servants? Possibly this one, who asks nothing or seems to
ask nothing, has asked more in the eyes of Heaven than those
who tax the country and steal the bread of the poor. Nobody
serves me for nothing. Charles, who is my prisoner, may
still have friends, but I have none!"
And with a deep sigh he again sank into the reverie that had
been interrupted by Mordaunt.
58
Jesus Seigneur.
Whilst Mordaunt was making his way to Cromwell's tent,
D'Artagnan and Porthos had brought their prisoners to the
house which had been assigned to them as their dwelling at
Newcastle.
The order given by Mordaunt to the sergeant had been heard
by D'Artagnan, who accordingly, by an expressive glance,
warned Athos and Aramis to exercise extreme caution. The
prisoners, therefore, had remained silent as they marched
along in company with their conquerors -- which they could
do with the less difficulty since each of them had
occupation enough in answering his own thoughts.
