A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de MarsacWeyman, Stanley John
History
A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac
Weyman, Stanley John
France -- History -- Henry III, 1574-1589 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
That I shared in this flight causes me no shame even now, for my men
were at the time ungovernable, as the best-trained troops are when
seized by such panics; and, moreover, I could have done no good by
remaining in the town, where the strength of the contagion was probably
greater and the inn larder like to be as bare, as the hillside. Few
towns are without a hostelry outside the gates for the convenience of
knights of the road or those who would avoid the dues, and Chateauroux
proved no exception to this rule. A short half-mile from the walls we
drew rein before a second encampment raised about a wayside house.
It scarcely needed the sound of music mingled with brawling voices to
inform us that the wilder spirits of the town had taken refuge here, and
were seeking to drown in riot and debauchery, as I have seen happen in a
besieged place, the remembrance of the enemy which stalked abroad in the
sunshine. Our sudden appearance, while it put a stop to the mimicry
of mirth, brought out a score of men and women in every stage of
drunkenness and dishevelment, of whom some, with hiccoughs and loose
gestures, cried to us to join them, while others swore horridly at being
recalled to the present, which, with the future, they were endeavouring
to forget.
I cursed them in return for a pack of craven wretches, and threatening
to ride down those who obstructed us, ordered my men forward; halting
eventually a quarter of a mile farther on, where a wood of groundling
oaks which still wore last year’s leaves afforded fair shelter. Afraid
to leave my men myself, lest some should stray to the inn and others
desert altogether, I requested M. d’Agen to return thither with Maignan
and Simon, and bring us what forage and food we required. This he did
with perfect success, though not until after a scuffle, in which
Maignan showed himself a match for a hundred. We watered the horses at
a neighbouring brook, and assigning two hours to rest and refreshment--a
great part of which M. d’Agen and I spent walking up and down in moody
silence, each immersed in his own thoughts--we presently took the road
again with renewed spirits.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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