Chapter VI
‘Tis not the whole of life, to live;
Nor all of death, to die.
MONTGOMERY.
THE dawn of morning found the sentinel at the place of Herbert’s confinement, still wrapt in slumber.
“Thou art taking thy post full easy, thou sluggard,” exclaimed the leader of the guard, as he stood at the side of Alart Besson, — “thy life is the forfeit justly due for thy neglect of duty: it is well that bolt and bar, fetter and manacle, have this night secured the heretics, else thy head should have been exacted as the penalty of thy remissness.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the soldier, springing on his legs, and recommencing at once, the pace that had been intermitted for full five hours, “if every sentinel in France and Savoy, were as true to his post as I am,” —
“Then the prisoners of war,” interrupted the officer, “would have good reason to congratulate themselves on their facilities of escape.”
“Thou doest me injustice,” responded the other; “five minutes have been the extent of my indulgence, and thou mayest see, from the tottering condition of my frame, my sunken eyes, the difficulty with which these fatigued arms can bear even the weight of this musket” —
“That thou hast drowned thy senses with thy last night’s potations, and that, to bring thee right, thy blood should be made to circulate with some strokes of the lash; or, better still,” (looking to the rope by which Herbert effected his escape) “here would be a befitting halter for thy neck: — But, how comes this!” continued he, changing the tone of his voice; “there has been some strange work here, last night: I heard neither rain nor tempest that could have scattered these tiles; come, thou reckless villain,” suspecting that all was not right, “let us see how thy charge looks this morning, and if he be ready for his evening funeral pile.”
The bolt was removed, and the superior, with the rest of the guard, entered the dungeon. They found all in silence; the fragments of the rope that bound the captive’s hands, were scattered on the floor; his fetters were lying by themselves among the straw of the couch; the ladder was still standing against the wall, and pointed to the aperture above, as the secret of his escape.
The officer stamped on the ground, his heart burning with indignation too deep to express. He laid his hand on his poniard, and the fiery glance of his eye, indicated that he was about to bestow a summary retribution on his satellite. “Nay,” he exclaimed, as, after a moment’s reflection, his hand fell from its resolution, “this would be too honourable a dismissal for thee, from this earth: the flames that have been cheated of the body of thy prisoner, shall have thine own as an equivalent; and thy head shall this night be ranged in befitting company with those of the barbets, on the gates of Pignerol.”
“It is a glorious thing,” replied Besson sullenly, “for one to die in the consciousness of having done his duty; if I have a clear conscience, I care not whether my grave be with saints or heretics.”
“Hush thy hypocritical babblings,” said the other; “bind him, with these same fetters,” added he, addressing his companions, “and go, collect without delay, such materials as will most speedily kindle the flames.”
The soldiers seemed to experience a pleasure, fully commensurate with that of their leader, in the prospect of inflicting so righteous a punishment for the crimes and the cruelties of their comrade. The neighbouring wood soon supplied the requisite materials for the pile; and amid shrieks and groans, imprecations and agonies, without one tear of penitence for the past, or one ray of hope for the future, Alart Besson terminated his career of iniquity and blood!
Having made the necessary preparations for the prosecution of their march, they went to the prison of young Arnaud, who, in point of accommodation at least, had fared somewhat better than his liberated companion. But, who can depict the agonies of his mind, when, from his grated window, he beheld the dreadful preparations for the scene of death we have just described? He had seen a figure led forth amid the tumultuary shouts of the soldiers, and instantly concluded that it must be his own beloved Herbert: he had witnessed the rising flames, heard the shrieks, and finally, the deep portentous silence which seemed to intimate that the dearest friendship he had formed on earth, was now at an end! The moment was one too dreadful for tears — a cold sweat broke over his body, and sorrow for him whose agonies were now over, was almost lost in the thought that they were but the prelude to his own!
He heard the key turn in his door, the guard entered and undid his fetters, but, to his surprize, he listened to the stern command, to prepare, not for death, but for continuing his journey. “When they had commenced their march, and he found himself the solitary captive, his suspicions respecting the melancholy fate of Herbert, seemed fearfully confirmed. In vain did he occupy himself with conjectures, as to the cause of his being permitted to survive his friend, how it was “that the one should be taken, and the other left;” but he knew his situation too well, to venture on unbosoming his thoughts to his hardened companions, on whom, besides, had been imposed the strictest silence.
It was late in the evening, before they reached the walls of Pignerol, a little town situated at the mouth of Val Perosa, and commanding the boundless extent of the plains of Piedmont, which stretch like a garden all around. As they entered its citadel, a crowd of spectators were collected to witness the erection of a scaifold, on which some innocent Protestants were destined to suffer on the morrow; and a burst of acclamation rose from the assemblage, as they saw the cavalcade approaching, with another victim. The iron spikes which surmounted the entrance, were covered with the heads of the unfortunate objects of their religious fury, and sent a shuddering into the heart of Ferdinand, such as he had never felt in the midst of his enemies. They crossed moat and draw-bridge; the massive portals closed behind them, and, after traversing a succession of gloomy passages, our young prisoner found himself in a dungeon, where nothing was to be seen but a few scattered bones, which filled his mind with dread forebodings of the lingering death that awaited him; and made him almost envy the fate of those, whose ghastly visages he had seen on entering the gate!
A short time only was permitted him to breathe the confined atmosphere of his new abode, when the door again opened, and four individuals presented themselves before him: — the first was a man of an unusually strong and muscular frame, considerably above the ordinary height; — a pair of thick mustachios covered his upper lip, and imparted a deeper aspect of severity to the natural sternness of his countenance. He was followed by one, whose garb and flowing beard, indicated the nature of his office — while his corporeal dimensions afforded presumptive evidence, that, however much he might venerate, by profession, the ascetic doctrines of his order, he unscrupulously neglected them in practice. The remaining two were dependants; and it was equally evident, from their dress and appearance, what was the nature of their calling, — coarse aprons were fastened round their waists, their shirt sleeves were tucked up to their shoulders, the one carried in his hand a bundle of wood, the other a knife, and some other iron implements. — - Ferdinand stood in no need of having it whispered to him, that he was now in the presence of his tormentors, and about to be the victim of a terrific combination of tortures!
“It is thine, young man,” said the governor of the citadel, who first entered — “It is thine,” said he, in a voice of thunder, “to choose thine own doom — an honourable captivity, or a lingering death. Confess thyself a son of our Holy Church, and receive absolution at the hands of this Reverend Father, — and a year of imprisonment within these walls will be accounted a sufficient atonement for thy past disobedience; or else, prepare thyself for agonies, such as thy imagination has never yet conceived.”
“Oh! have mercy! — have mercy!” exclaimed the poor boy, falling prostrate at the feet of his oppressor, — “thy nature could not surely permit thee to put such threats into execution, and to hold out, as the only alternative by which they can be avoided, the adoption of what conscience, truth, Heaven, forbids. — Thou wilt surely have mercy!” —
—” Talk not of mercy, young man,” interrupted the stern inquisitor; —” think not, that thy cries and tears will move me from my purpose. Hundreds of thy race have soaked this dungeon with their blood, and fed the flames of its fire, — but their shrieks no more shook this soul, than the
winds of heaven the rock on which stands this citadel.”
“If thou hast no pity,” said the despairing youth, “on this poor body, wilt thou not regard the cries of an orphaned sister, who looks on him, on whom thou art about to inflict thy cruelties, as all in the wide world, she can call her friend 2”
“Hush thy trifling,” said the other, assuming a still sterner tone, — “thou knowest not with whom thou hast to deal, in thus obtruding thy follies upon me. Thou art but wasting words, which will only increase thy tortures. — Come,” said he, in a voice which seemed to shake the very walls which inclosed them,” tell me, without another instant of delay, art thou to accept the too favourable offer which is now in thy power, and have thine accursed temples washed with holy water by this sacred attendant, — or, art thou to prefer the pincers and the thumb-screw — the rack and the flames r
“Listen to me, once more,” said Ferdinand, struggling to compose his agitated feelings, — “In the name of reason, of conscience, of humanity, how can it be deemed possible, for the tongue to confess, what the soul denies? — Here,” said he, plucking his Bible from his bosom, “is the volume which we hold in common, to be the charter of our faith, — the code of our doctrine, the rule of our lives; — point thy finger to the place that convicts me of error, and, that moment, I shall not only retract, but atone by what tortures thou mayest see meet to inflict, for my obstinate rejection of the truth.”
“Go,” said the unrelenting tyrant, addressing himself to one of his menials, at the same time tearing the sacred volume from the hands of the captive, — “Go, without delay, and kindle the fire; let this be its first fuel — and see that the instruments be well heated.”
The dependants gave a sign of acquiescence, and manifested a barbarous delight, as they hurried to make the dreadful preparations. A momentary pause ensued. “Is all ready?” exclaimed the governor to his minions. He was responded to by a nod — the terrible signal that the moment of lingering agonies had now arrived!
“Once more, young man,” said the superior, “I put it in your power, whether thou wilt accept of my clemency, on the condition on which it is offered, or have these red-hot pincers piercing thy vitals, till every inch of flesh be torn from thy bones, and thy flayed carcass be left for food to the vermin of this dungeon, until it becomes like these wrecks of humanity that lie scattered around you!”
“Oh! canst thou not,” exclaimed Ferdinand, again falling down in a posture of suppliant agony, — “Canst thou not inflict death on this wretched body, without these aggravated tortures? Recant, I cannot, — I dare not! — No agonies, however lingering — no cruelties, however barbarous, will tempt me to surrender what has been bought by the blood of my Saviour, and secured to me by that of his martyred saints; or induce me to barter my hope of heaven, for a momentary respite from earthly torment. No,” said the poor boy, in a tone of firm and manly heroism, worthy of the noblest of his race, — “my body I surrender — truth, I cannot. I throw myself on thy mercy, and, if I am denied thy sympathy, I have that of Heaven!”
“Thou art a bold youth,” replied the other, “but thy magnanimity shall now be put to the test. Strip him, minions, and bind him hand and foot on this rack.”
The poor boy was in a moment stretched on a wooden framework, whose transverse bars were clotted with the blood of the murdered. His hands and feet were firmly tied down with ropes, so that even a movement of a limb, or a convulsion of the body, was impossible. One of the executioners hurried to the fire, for the red-hot irons; the other stood at the feet of the victim, with his bare arms folded, and the knife clenched between his teeth, in savage readiness for the anticipated butchery. The command was given to pierce his nostrils with the burning pincers — when, a knock was heard at the door, and one of the keepers informed the governor, that a stranger waited in the outer courtyard, desirous of an interview. The superior left the dungeon, and gave orders to his dependants to suspend their operations till his return.
This brief interval was spent by the wretched victim, in lifting up his heart in prayer, for strength to enable him to witness a good confession, and to prevent him exhibiting a pusillanimity unworthy of the name of Arnaud. He was consoled by the thought, that, in a few hours at most, his spirit should once more rejoin that of his departed friend, which, he now almost fancied, was hovering over his couch of suffering, in readiness to conduct him into glory. He remembered the thousands in his native valleys, who had submitted with noble resignation to a similar fate; and rejoiced to think that his own voice would speedily be added to swell their prayer: — “How long, 0 Lord! holy and true! dost thou not judge and avenge our blood, on them that dwell on the earth!”
After a few minutes, the governor returned. — “Young man,” said he, addressing himself to Ferdinand, “thy doom is, for a time at least, suspended. An alien to thee in religion and in blood, but one who has more than ordinary claims on my clemency, has sued for a mitigation of thy punishment. — Minions,” said he, addressing the dependants, “it is my pleasure that these bonds be unloosed, and that ye conduct this prisoner to the western turret of the castle. See that his safety is secure, and also that he be well provided for.”
Ferdinand listened to the words which fell on his ear, more as if they were the transient visions of a feverish dream, than a joyful reality; he felt the cords, by which he had been so cruelly bound, unloosed; and, in a state of half unconsciousness, arising from mental exhaustion and bodily weakness, was carried up a winding stair to a small circular apartment, where we must now leave him for a little, to inquire after the fate of Herbert, and the rest of the intrepid band.