The Forest of Swords 5

The Forest of Swords 5

CHAPTER III

 

IN THE FRENCH CAMP

 

 

John rushed forward and grasped his comrade. The sympathetic hands of

others seized him also, and they raised him to his feet, while an

officer gave him stimulant out of a flask, John meanwhile telling who

his comrade was. Lannes' eyes opened and he flushed through the tan of

his face.

 

"Pardon," he said, "it was a momentary weakness. I am ashamed of myself,

but I shall not faint again."

 

"You've been shot," said the officer, looking at his sanguinary cap and

face.

 

"So I have, but I ask your pardon for it. I won't let it occur again."

 

Lannes was now standing stiffly erect, and his eyes shone with pride, as

the general, a tall, elderly man, rapidly read the letter that Philip

had delivered with his own hand. The officer who had spoken of his wound

looked at him with approval.

 

"I've heard of you, Philip Lannes," he said, "you're the greatest flying

man in the world."

 

Lannes' eyes flashed now.

 

"You do me too much honor," he said, "but it was not I who brought our

aeroplane here. It was my American friend, John Scott, now standing

beside me, who beat off an attack upon us and who then, although he had

had no practical experience in flying, guided the machine to this spot.

Born an American, he is one of us and France already owes him much."

 

John raised his hand in protest, but he saw that Lannes was enjoying

himself. His dramatic instinct was finding full __EXPRESSION__. He had not

only achieved a great triumph, but his best friend had an important

share in it. There was honor for both, and his generous soul rejoiced.

 

Both John and Lannes stood at attention until the general had read the

letter not once but twice and thrice. Then he took off his glasses,

rubbed them thoughtfully a moment or two, replaced them and looked

keenly at the two. He was a quiet man and he made no gestures, but John

met his gaze serenely, read his eyes and saw the tremendous weight of

responsibility back of them.

 

"You have done well, you two, perhaps far better than you know," said

the general, "and now, since you are wounded, Philip Lannes, you must

have attention. De Rougemont, take care of them."

 

De Rougemont, a captain, was the man to whom they had been talking, and

he gladly received the charge. He was a fine, well built officer, under

thirty, and it was obvious that he already took a deep interest in the

two young aviators. Noticing Lannes' anxious glances toward his precious

machine, he promptly detailed two men to take care of the _Arrow_ and

then he led John and Lannes toward the group of tents.

 

"First I'll get a surgeon for you," he said to the Frenchman, "and after

that there's food for you both."

 

"I hope you'll tell the surgeon to be careful how he takes off my cap,"

said Lannes, "because it's fastened to my head now by my own dried

blood."

 

"Trust me for that," said de Rougemont. "I'll bring one of our best

men."

 

Then, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he added:

 

"I suppose the message you brought was one of life or death for France."

 

"I think so," said Lannes, "but I know little of its nature, myself."

 

"I would not ask you to say any more. I know that you cannot speak of

it. But you can tell me this. Are the Germans before Paris?"

 

"As nearly as I could tell, their vanguard was within fifteen miles of

the capital."

 

"Then if we strike at all we must strike quickly. I think we're going to

strike."

 

Lannes was silent, and they entered the tent, where blankets were spread

for him. A surgeon, young and skillful, came promptly, carefully removed

the cap and bound up his head. John stood by and handed the surgeon the

bandages.

 

"You're not much hurt," he said to Lannes as he finished. "Your chief

injury was shock, and that has passed. I can keep down the fever and

you'll be ready for work very soon. The high powered bullet makes a

small and clean wound. It tears scarcely at all. Nor will your beauty be

spoiled in the slightest, young sir. Both orifices are under the full

thickness of your hair."

 

"I'm grateful for all your assurances," said Lannes, his old indomitable

smile appearing in his eyes, "but you'll have to cure me fast, faster

than you ever cured anybody before, because I'm a flying man, and I fly

again tomorrow."

 

"Not tomorrow. In two or three days, perhaps--"

 

"Yes, tomorrow, I tell you! Nothing can keep me from it! This army will

march tonight! I know it! and do you think such a wound as this can keep

me here, when the fate of Europe is being decided? I'd rise from these

blankets and go with the army even if I knew that it would make me fall

dead the next day!"

 

He spoke with such fierce energy that the surgeon who at first sternly

forbade, looked doubtful and then acquiescent.

 

"Go, then," he said, "if you can. The fact that we have so many heroes

may save us."

 

He left John alone in the tent with Lannes. The Frenchman regarded his

comrade with a cool, assured gaze.

 

"John," he said, "I shall be up in the _Arrow_ tomorrow. I'm not nervous

and excited now, and I'll not cause any fever in my wound. Somebody will

come in five minutes with food. I shall eat a good supper, fall quietly

to sleep, sleep soundly until night, then rise, refreshed and strong,

and go about the work for which I'm best fitted. My mind shall rule over

my body."

 

"I see you're what we would call at home a Christian Scientist, and in

your case when a mind like yours is brought to bear there's something in

it."

 

The food appeared within the prescribed time, and both ate heartily.

John watched Lannes. He knew that he would suffer agonies of

mortification if he were not able to share in the great movement which

so obviously was about to take place, and, as he looked, he felt a

growing admiration for Philip's immense power of self-control.

 

Mind had truly taken command of body. Lannes ate slowly and with evident

relish. From without came many noises of a great army, but he refused to

be disturbed or excited by them. He spoke lightly of his life before the

war, and of a little country home that the Lannes family had in

Normandy.

 

"We own the two places, that and the home in the city," he said. "The

house in Normandy is small, but it's beautiful, hidden by flower gardens

and orchards, with a tiny river just back of the last orchard. Julie has

spent most of her life there. She and my mother would go there now, but

it's safer at Lyons or in the Midi. A wonderful girl, Julie! I hope,

John, that you'll come for a long stay with us after the war, among the

Normandy orchards and roses."

 

"I hope so," said John. He was dreaming a little then, and he saw young

Julie sitting at the table with them back in Paris. Truly, her golden

hair was the purest gold he had ever seen, and there was no other blue

like the blue of her blue eyes.

 

"Now, John," said Lannes, "I'll resume my place on the blankets and in

ten minutes I'll be asleep."

 

He lay down, closed his eyes and three minutes short of the appointed

time slept soundly. John gazed at him for a moment in wonder and

admiration. The triumph of will over body had been complete. He touched

Lannes' head. It was normally cool. Either the surgeon's skill had been

great or the very strength of his resolve had been so immense that he

had kept nerves and blood too quiet for fever to rise.

 

John left the tent, feeling for the time a personal detachment from

everything. He had no position in this army, and no orders had been

given to him by anybody. But he knew that he was among friends, and

while he stood looking about in uncertainty Captain de Rougemont

appeared.

 

"How is young Lannes?" he asked.

 

"Sleeping and free from fever. He will move with the army, or rather he

will be hovering over it in his aeroplane. I never before saw such

extraordinary power of will."

 

"He's a wonderful fellow. Of course, most of us have heard of him

through his marvelous flying exploits, but it's the first time that I've

ever seen him. What are you going to do?"

 

"I don't know. I seem to be left high and dry for the present, at least.

My company is with one of the armies, but where that army is now is more

than I can tell."

 

"Nor do I know either. We're all in the dark here, but any young strong

man can certainly get a chance to fight in this war. I'm on the staff of

General Vaugirard, a brigade commander, and he needs active young

officers. You speak good French, and the fact that you came with Lannes

will be a great recommendation, I'll provide you with a horse and all

else necessary."

 

John thanked him with great sincerity. The offer was in truth most

welcome. He knew that Lannes would willingly take him in the _Arrow_,

but he felt that he would be in the way there and, as he had said to his

friend, the rolling earth rather than the air around it was his true

field of action. His first enrollment in the French army had been

hurried and without due forms, but war had made it good.

 

"I'll not come back for you until afternoon," said de Rougemont,

"because we're already making preparations to advance, and I shall have

much to do meanwhile. You can watch over Lannes and see that he's not

interrupted in his sleep. He'll need it."

 

"Yes, I have reason to know that he did not sleep at all last night, and

he must be in a state of complete exhaustion. But, just as he predicted,

he'll rise, his old self again."

 

Captain de Rougemont hurried away, and John was left alone in the midst

of a great army. He stood before Lannes' tent, which was in the midst of

a grassy and rather elevated opening, and he heard once more the

infinite sounds made by two hundred thousand armed men, blending into

one vast, fused note.

 

The army, too, was moving, or getting ready to move. Batteries of the

splendid French artillery passed before him, squadrons of horsemen

galloped by, and regiments of infantry followed. It all seemed confused,

aimless to the eye, but John knew that nevertheless it was proceeding

with order and method, directed by a master mind.

 

Often trumpets sounded and the motion of the troops seemed to quicken.

Now he beheld men from the lands of the sun, the short, dark, fierce

soldiers of the Midi, youths of Marseilles and youths of the first Roman

province, whose native language was Provencal and not French. He

remembered the men of the famous battalion who had marched from

Marseilles to Paris singing Rouget de Lisle's famous song, and giving it

their name, while they tore down an ancient kingdom. Doubtless, spirits

no less ardent and fearless than theirs were here now.

 

He saw the Arabs in turbans and flowing robes, and black soldiers from

Senegal, and seeing these men from far African deserts he knew that

France was rallying her strength for a supreme effort. The German

Empire, with the flush of unbroken victory in war after war, could

command the complete devotion of its sons, but the French Republic,

without such triumphs as yet, could do as well. John felt an immense

pride because he, too, was republican to the core, and often there was a

lot in a name.

 

It was about noon now, and the sun was shining with dazzling brilliancy.

The tall hill and the low hill were clothed in deep green, and the

waters of the little river that ran between, sparkled in the light. The

air was crisp with a cool wind that blew from the west, and John felt

that the omens were good for the great mysterious movement which he

believed to be at hand.

 

He looked into the tent and saw that Lannes was sleeping soundly, with a

good color in his face. A powerful constitution aided by a strong will

had done its work and he was sure that on the morrow Lannes would again

be the most daring French scout of the air.

 

John found the waiting hard work. There was so much movement and action

that he wanted to be a part of it. He had thrown in his lot with this

army and he wanted to share its work at once. Yet much time passed, and

de Rougemont did not return. The evidences that the great French army

was marching to the point designated in the note brought by Lannes

multiplied. From the crest of the hill he already saw large bodies of

troops marching forward steadily, their long blue coats flapping

awkwardly about their legs. He wondered once more why they wore such an

inharmonious and conspicuous uniform as blue frock coats and baggy red

trousers.

 

He heard presently the martial sounds of the Marseillaise, and the

regiment singing it passed very close to him. The men were nearly all

short, dark, and very young. But the spring and fire with which they

marched were magnificent. As they thundered out the grand old tune their

feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth, and fierce eyes glowed in dark

faces.

 

John, with a start, recognized one, a petty officer, a sergeant it

seemed, who marched beside the line. He was the most eager of them all,

and his face was tense and wrapt. It was Geronimo, the little Apache, in

whom the spark of patriotism had lit the fire of genius. His call had

come and it had drawn him from a half savage life into one of glorious

deeds for his country.

 

"He'll be a general if he isn't killed first," murmured John, with

absolute conviction.

 

Geronimo, at that moment, looked his way and recognized him. His hand

flew to his head in a military salute, which John returned in kind, and

his eyes plainly showed pleasure at sight of this new friend whom he had

made in a few minutes on the Butte Montmartre.

 

"We meet again," he said, "and before the week is out it will be victory

or death."

 

"I think so, too," said John.

 

"I know it," said Geronimo, and, saluting once more, he marched on with

his regiment. John saw them pass across the valley and join the great

mass of troops that filled the whole northern horizon. About an hour

later a cheerful voice called to him, and he beheld Lannes standing in

the door of the tent, his head well bandaged, but his eyes clear and

strong and the natural color in his face.

 

"What has happened, John?" he asked.

 

"You've slept six or seven hours."

 

"And while I slept, the army, as I can see, has begun its march

according to the order we brought. I'm sorry I had to miss any of it,

but I was bound to sleep."

 

"You're a marvel."

 

"No marvel at all. I'm merely one of a million Frenchmen molded on the

same model. An army can't move fast and tonight the _Arrow_ and I will

be hovering over its front. There's your old place for you in the

plane."

 

"I'd only be in your way, Philip. But can't you wait until tomorrow?

Don't rush yourself while you've got a new wound."

 

"The wound is nothing. I'm bound to go tonight with the _Arrow_. But

what are you going to do if you don't go with me?"

 

"A new friend whom I've made while you slept has found a place for me

with him, on the staff of General Vaugirard, a brigade commander. I

shall serve there until I'm able to rejoin the Strangers."

 

"General Vaugirard! I've seen him. An able man, and a most noticeable

figure. You've fared well."

 

"I hope so. Here comes Captain de Rougemont."

 

The captain showed much pleasure at seeing Lannes up and apparently

well.

 

"What! Has our king of the air revived so soon!" he exclaimed.

 

"The dead themselves would rise when we're about to strike for the life

of France," said Lannes, his dramatic quality again coming to the front.

 

"Well spoken," said de Rougemont, the color flushing into his face.

 

"I return to my aeroplane within two hours," said Lannes. "I hold a

commission from our government which allows me to operate somewhat as a

free lance, but, of course, I shall conform for the present to the

wishes of the man who commands the flying corps of this army. Meanwhile,

I leave with you my young Yankee friend here, John Scott. For some

strange reason I've conceived for him a strong brotherly affection.

Kindly see that he doesn't get killed unless it's necessary for our

country, and this, I think, is a long enough speech for me to make now."

 

"I'll do my best for him," said de Rougemont earnestly. "I've come for

you, Scott."

 

"Good-bye, Philip," said John, extending his hand.

 

"Good-bye, John," said Lannes, "and do as I tell you. Don't get yourself

killed unless it's absolutely necessary."

 

Usually so stoical, his voice showed emotion, and he turned away after

the strong pressure of the two hands. John and de Rougemont walked down

the valley, where they joined General Vaugirard and the rest of his

staff.

 

As soon as John saw the general he knew what Lannes meant by his phrase

"a noticeable figure." General Vaugirard was a man of about sixty, so

enormously fat that he must have weighed three hundred pounds. His face

was covered with thick white beard, out of which looked small, sharp red

eyes. He reminded John of a great white bear. The little red eyes bored

him through for an instant, and then their owner said briefly:

 

"De Rougemont has vouched for you. Stay with him. An orderly has your

horse."

 

A French soldier held for him a horse bearing all the proper equipment,

and John, saluting the general, sprang into the saddle. He was a good

horseman, and now he felt thoroughly sure of himself. If it came to the

worst, and he was unseated, the earth was not far away, but if he were

thrown out of the _Arrow_ he would have a long and terrible time in

falling.

 

General Vaugirard had not yet mounted, but stood beside a huge black

horse, fit to carry such a weight. He was listening and looking with the

deepest attention and his staff was silent around him. John saw from

their manner that these men liked and respected their immense general.

 

More trumpets sounded, much nearer now, and a messenger galloped up,

handing a note to General Vaugirard, who glanced at it hastily, uttered

a deep Ah! of relief and joy and thrust it into his pocket.

 

Then saying to his staff, "Gentlemen, we march at once," he put one hand

on his horse's shoulder, and, to John's immense surprise, leaped as

lightly into the saddle as if he had been a riding master. He settled

himself easily into his seat, spoke a word to his staff, and then he

rode with his regiments toward that great mass of men on the horizon who

were steadily marching forward.

 

John kept by the side of de Rougemont. There were brief introductions to

some of the young officers nearest him, and he felt an air of

friendliness about him. As de Rougemont told them he had already given

ample proof of his devotion to the cause, and he was accepted promptly

as one of them.

 

John was now conscious how strongly he had projected himself into the

life of the French. He was an American for generations back and his

blood by descent was British. He had been among the Germans and he liked

them personally, he had served already with the English, and their point

of view was more nearly like the American than any other. But he was

here with the French and he felt for them the deepest sympathy of all.

He was conscious of a tie like that of blood brotherhood.

 

He knew it was due to the old and yet unpaid help France had given to

his own country, and above all to the conviction that France, minding

her own business, had been set upon by a greater power, with intent to

crush and destroy. France was attacked by a dragon, and the old similes

of mythology floated through his mind, but, oftenest, that of Andromeda

chained to the rock. And the figure that typified France always had the

golden hair and dark blue eyes of slim, young Julie Lannes.

 

They advanced several hours almost in silence, as far as talk was

concerned, but two hundred thousand men marching made a deep and steady

murmur. General Vaugirard kept well in front of his staff, riding,

despite his immense bulk, like a Comanche, and occasionally putting his

glasses to those fiery little red eyes. At length he turned and beckoned

to John, who promptly drew up to his side.

 

"You speak good French?" he said in his native tongue.

 

"Yes, sir," replied John promptly.