The Man-at-Arms; or, Henry De Cerons. Volumes I and IIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Man-at-Arms; or, Henry De Cerons. Volumes I and II
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Huguenots -- Fiction
In many other respects, however, his conversation was full of
interest. He was an old veteran soldier, and full of information upon
every practical point, both of military tactics and military habits.
As far as study could render me acquainted with the subject, I was so
already; but I gained more useful information from my new follower in
a few hours, more directions for employing well the science that I had
acquired, than I could have done from the best master of the art in
weeks or months.
From him, too, I learned all the habits and manners of the camp; the
rules, the regulations, the etiquettes, which I had before no notion
of. What could and might be done, what could not be done, he told me;
and I found that, constituted as armies of that period were--low in
discipline, licentious in habits--with a little complaisance to the
great leaders, and the observation of a few insignificant regulations,
the captain of such a party as I proposed to raise might, in fact, do
anything that he liked, and act totally independent of the general
during almost the whole of his campaign, provided he showed himself
daring and fearless, and ready to fight whenever he was called upon.
As we were conversing in this manner while we pursued our onward way,
we came to the high grounds near the little hamlet of Marceau, and,
looking down over the country below, we saw a considerable number of
people riding along, as if in great haste and confusion, upon the bank
of the river, and at some distance to the right another party appeared
upon the edge of the little slope, while the sun, glittering upon
their arms, left no doubt whatever that they were troopers of some
kind.
"Those are surely the poor merchants," I said, "who left Cubzac this
morning."
"Ay," said the old soldier, "They are running away from those worthies
on the hill; some of Lassac's people, I suppose. But the stupid fools
have missed the ford. It is there, a hundred yards to the right, and
they are running away from it. I know it as well as my own buff
jerkin. They will get themselves caught and plundered if they don't
mind."
"Let us go down and help them," I exclaimed. "If you know the ford, we
can reach them before the others, and once having them across, we can
turn and take a blow or two with the pursuers."
"Bravo! bravo, my captain!" cried Moric Endem. "That's the way! That's
the way! It seems as if you had been born and bred to it! Always fight
the enemy when he's not more than two to one! I am with you, my good
captain!"
And, spurring down the hill at full speed, we approached the party of
merchants, who, terrified at seeing another body of troopers on the
opposite side, paused and hesitated, till, taking off my steel cap, I
waved it in the air, calling to them not to be afraid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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