The decisive moment had arrived. Benvenuto divided his men into two detachments: one was to attempt, by every possible means, to force the door of the Hôtel; the other was to cover the operations of the first, and to keep from the walls, with arquebus shots or with their swords, any of the besieged who might appear upon the battlements, or who might attempt a sortie. Benvenuto took command of this last detachment in person, and selected our friend Ascanio for his lieutenant. At the head of the other he placed Hermann, the good-humored, gallant German, who could flatten an iron bar with a hammer, and a man with his fist. He chose for his second in command little Jehan, a rascal of fifteen years, as active as a squirrel, mischievous as a monkey, and impudent as a page, for whom the Goliath had conceived a very deep affection, for the reason, doubtless, that the playful youngster was forever tormenting him. Little Jehan proudly took his place beside his captain, to the great chagrin of Pagolo, who in his double cuirass was not unlike the statue of the Commandeur in the rigidity of his movements.
Having thus made his dispositions, and reviewed his men and inspected their weapons for the last time, Benvenuto addressed a few words to the brave fellows who were about to face danger, perhaps death, in his cause, with such good will. Then he grasped each man's hand, crossed himself devoutly, and cried, "Forward!"
The two parties at once took up their line of march, and, skirting the Quai des Augustins, which was deserted at that hour in that spot, they very soon arrived at the Hôtel de Nesle.
Thereupon Benvenuto, unwilling to attack his enemy without first going through all the formalities prescribed by custom in such cases, went forward alone, waving a white handkerchief at the end of his sword, to the same small door as before, and knocked. As before, he was questioned through the barred opening as to the object of his visit. Benvenuto repeated the same formula, saying that he had come to take possession of the château given him by the king. But he was less fortunate than on the former occasion, in that he was not honored with any reply at all.
Thereupon, facing the door, he exclaimed, in loud, distinct tones:—
"To thee, Robert d'Estourville, Provost of Paris, do I, Benvenuto Cellini, goldsmith, sculptor, painter, and engineer, make known that his Majesty François I. has in his good pleasure, as it was his right to do, given to me absolutely the Grand-Nesle. As thou dost insolently maintain thy hold upon it, and, in contravention of the royal will, dost refuse to deliver it to me, I hereby declare to thee, Robert d'Estourville, Seigneur de Villebon, Provost of Paris, that I have come to take possession of the Grand-Nesle by force. Defend thyself therefore, and, if evil comes of thy refusal, know that thou wilt be held answerable therefor on earth and in heaven, before man and before God."
With that Benvenuto paused, and waited; but not a sound came from behind the walls. He thereupon loaded his arquebus, and ordered his men to make ready their weapons; then, assembling the leaders Hermann, Ascanio, and Jehan in council, he said to them:—
"You see, my children, that it is not possible to avoid the conflict. Now it is for us to decide in what way we shall begin the attack."
"I will break in the door," said Hermann, "and do you follow me in; that's all."
"With what will you do it, my Samson?" queried Cellini.
Hermann looked about and saw on the quay a piece of timber which four ordinary men would have found it difficult to lift.
"With that beam," he said.
He walked to where it lay, coolly picked it up, placed it under his arm, and fixed it there like a rain in its socket, then returned to his general.
Meanwhile a crowd was beginning to collect, and Benvenuto, excited thereby, was on the point of giving orders for the attack to begin, when the captain of the king's archers, notified doubtless by some conservative citizen, appeared at the corner of the street, accompanied by five or six mounted men. This captain was a friend of the provost, and although he knew perfectly well what was toward, he rode up to Benvenuto, hoping to intimidate him doubtless, and while his people checked Hermann's advance, he said:—
"What is your desire, and why do you thus disturb the peace of the city?"
"The man who really disturbs the peace," replied Cellini, "is he who refuses to obey the king's orders, not he who executes them."
"What do you mean?" inquired the captain.
"I mean that I hold a deed in due form, delivered to me by Messire de Neufville, secretary of the royal treasury, wherein his Majesty grants to me the Hôtel du Grand-Nesle. But the people who are in possession refuse to recognize this deed, and thereby keep me from my own. Now in one way or another, I have got it into my head that, since Scripture says that we must render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, Benvenuto Cellini is entitled to take what belongs to Benvenuto Cellini."
"Yes! and instead of preventing us from taking possession of our property, you ought to lend us a hand," cried Pagolo.
"Be silent, rascal," said Benvenuto, stamping angrily; "I have no need of anybody's assistance. Dost thou understand?"
"You are right in theory, but wrong in practice," rejoined the captain.
"How may that be?" demanded Benvenuto, who felt that the blood was beginning to rise in his cheeks.
"You are right to wish to enter into possession of your property, but you are wrong to undertake to do it in this way; for you will not gain much, I promise you, fighting walls with your swords. If I were to give you a little friendly advice, it would be to apply to the officers of justice, and carry your grievance to the Provost of Paris, for example. With that, adieu, and good luck to you!"
And the captain of the king's archers rode away with a sneering laugh, whereupon the crowd laughed too.
"He laughs best who laughs last," said Benvenuto Cellini. "Forward, Hermann, forward!"
Hermann took up his joist once more, and while Cellini, Ascanio, and two or three of the most skilful marksmen of the party, arquebus in hand, stood in readiness to fire upon the wall, he rushed forward like a living catapult against the small door, which they deemed to be easier to burst in than the large one.
But when he approached the wall a shower of stones began to rain down upon him, although no defenders could be seen; for the provost had ordered stones to be piled on top of the wall, and it was necessary only to push lightly against the piles to send them down upon the heads of the besiegers.
The latter, being thus warmly received, recoiled a step or two, but, although taken entirely by surprise by this alarming method of defence, no one was wounded save Pagolo; he was so overburdened with his double cuirass that he could not fall back so quickly as the others, and was wounded in the heel.
Hermann himself was no more disturbed by this shower of pebbles than an oak tree by a hail-storm, and kept on to the door, where he at once set to work and began to deal such blows against it that it soon became evident that, stout as it was, it could not long withstand such treatment.
Benvenuto and his men meanwhile stood ready with their arquebuses to fire upon anybody who might appear upon the wall, but no one appeared. The Grand-Nesle seemed to be defended by an invisible garrison, and Benvenuto raged inwardly at his inability to do anything to assist the dauntless German. Suddenly he happened to glance at the old Tour de Nesle, which stood by itself, as we have said, on the other side of the quay, and bathed its feet in the Seine.
"Wait, Hermann," cried Cellini, "wait, my good fellow; the Hôtel de Nesle is ours as surely as my name is Benvenuto Cellini, and I am a goldsmith by trade."
Motioning to Ascanio and his two companions to follow him, he ran to the tower, while Hermann, in obedience to his orders, stepped back out of range of the stones, and awaited the fulfilment of the general's promise, leaning upon his timber as a Swiss would lean upon his halberd.
As Benvenuto anticipated, the provost had neglected to station a guard in the old tower, so that he took possession of it unopposed, and, running up the stairs, four at a leap, reached the summit in a moment; the terrace overlooked the walls of the Grand-Nesle, as a steeple overlooks a town, so that the besieged, who a moment before were sheltered by their ramparts, suddenly found themselves entirely unprotected.
The report of an arquebus and the hissing of a bullet, followed by the fall of an archer, warned the provost that the face of affairs was in all probability about to change.
At the same moment Hermann, realizing that he would now have a free field, resumed his joist, and began to batter away again at the door, which the besieged had strengthened somewhat during the momentary suspension of hostilities.
The crowd, with the marvellous instinct of self-possession always noticeable in such bodies, realized that shooting was to form part of the entertainment, and that spectators of the tragedy about to be enacted were likely to be splashed with blood; and they no sooner heard the report of Benvenuto's arquebus and the cry of the wounded archer than they dispersed like a flock of pigeons.
A single individual remained.
This was no other than our friend, Jacques Aubry, the student, who had kept the appointment made the preceding Sunday with Ascanio, in the hope of enjoying his game of tennis.
He had but to east a glance over the battle-field to understand what was going on.
It is not difficult to divine the determination arrived at by Jacques Aubry, from what we have already seen of his character. To play at tennis or with fire-arms was equally sport to him; and as he guessed that the besiegers were most likely to be his friends, he enlisted under their banner.
"Well, my boys," he said, walking up to the group which was waiting for the door to be burst in to rush into the citadel, "we are having a bit of a siege, are we? Peste! you're not attacking a cabin, and it's a good deal of an undertaking for so few of you to try to take a strong place like this."
"We are not alone," said Pagolo, who was dressing his heel; and he pointed to Benvenuto and his three or four companions, who were keeping up such a well sustained fire upon the wall that the stones were falling much less freely than at first.
"I see, I see, Master Achilles," said Jacques Aubry, "for you are like him in being wounded in the heel, in addition to a thousand other points of similarity, no doubt. I see: yes, there's my friend Ascanio, and the master doubtless, on top of the tower yonder."
"Very true," said Pagolo.
"And that fellow banging away at the door so lustily is one of you also, isn't he?"
"That's Hermann," said little Jehan proudly.
"Peste! how he goes on!" said the student. "I must go and congratulate him."
He sauntered along with his hands in his pockets, regardless of the bullets whistling above his head, to the brave German, who kept at his task with the regularity of a machine.
"Do you need anything, my dear Goliath?" said Jacques Aubry. "I am at your service."
"I am thirsty," replied Hermann, without pausing in his work.
"Peste! I can well believe it; that's thirsty work you're doing there, and I wish I had a cask of beer to offer you."
"Water!" said Hermann, "water!"
"Do you mean that mild beverage will satisfy you? So be it. The river is at hand, and you shall be served in a moment."
Jacques ran to the river, filled his helmet with water, and took it to the German. He leaned his beam against the wall, swallowed at a draught all that the helmet contained, and handed it back to the student empty.
"Thanks," he said, and, taking up the beam once more, he resumed his work.
An instant later he said, "Go and tell the master to be in readiness, for we are getting on famously here."
Jacques Aubry started for the tower, and in a very few moments he stood between Ascanio and Benvenuto, who were keeping up such a brisk and effective fire that they had already shot down two or three men, and the provost's archers were beginning to' think twice before showing themselves upon the walls.
Meanwhile, as Hermann had sent word to Benvenuto, the door was beginning to yield, and the provost resolved to make one last effort; he cheered on his men to such good purpose that the stones began to rain down once more. But two or three arquebus shots speedily calmed anew the ardor of the besieged, who, despite all Messire Robert's promises and remonstrances, coyly remained out of range. Thereupon Messire Robert himself appeared, alone, carrying in his hands an enormous stone, and made ready to hurl it down upon Hermann's head.
But Benvenuto was not the man to allow his retainer to be taken by surprise. As soon as he caught sight of the provost rashly venturing where no one else ventured to go, he put his weapon to his shoulder; it would have been all up with Messire Robert, had not Ascanio, just as Cellini pulled the trigger, thrown up the barrel with a quick motion of his hand accompanied by a sharp exclamation, so that the bullet whistled harmlessly through the air. Ascanio had recognized Colombe's father.
As Benvenuto turned furiously upon him to demand an explanation, the stone, thrown with all the force the provost could impart to it, fell full upon Hermann's helmet. Even the enormous strength of the modern Titan was not equal to the task of sustaining such a blow; he relaxed his hold of the timber, threw out his arms as if seeking something to cling to, and, finding nothing within reach, fell to the ground unconscious, with a terrible crash.
Besieged and besiegers simultaneously set up a shout. Little Jehan and three or four comrades who were near Hermann ran to him to carry him away from the wall, and look to his injuries; but the large and small doors of the Hôtel de Nesle opened at the same moment, and the provost, at the head of twelve or fifteen men, darted upon the wounded man, cutting and slashing vigorously, as did all his followers, so that Jehan and his comrades were forced to retreat, although Benvenuto was shouting to them to hold their ground, and that he would come and help them. The provost seized the opportunity; eight of his men lifted Hermann, who was still unconscious, by the arms and legs, and seven took up a position to protect their retreat, so that, while Cellini, Ascanio, and their three or four comrades on the terrace of the tower were hurrying down the four or five flights of stairs which lay between them and the street, Hermann and his bearers re-entered the Grand-Nesle. When Cellini, arquebus in hand, appeared at the door of the tower, the door of the Hôtel was just closing behind the last of the provost's men-at-arms.
There was no disguising the fact that this was a check, and a serious check at that. Cellini, Ascanio, and their comrades had, it is true, disabled three or four of the besieged, but the loss of these three or four men was much less disastrous to the provost, than was the loss of Hermann to Cellini.
The besiegers were dazed for a moment.
Suddenly Ascanio and Cellini looked at each other, as if by a common impulse.
"I have a plan," said Cellini, looking to the left, that is to say, toward the city.
"And so have I," Ascanio rejoined, looking to the right, that is to say, toward the fields.
"I have devised a plan to bring the garrison out of the castle."
"And I a plan to open the door for you, if you do bring them out."
"How many men do you need?"
"A single one will suffice."
"Choose."
"Will you come with me, Jacques Aubry?" said Ascanio.
"To the end of the world, my dear fellow, to the end of the world. But I shouldn't be sorry to have some sort of a weapon, the end of a sword for instance, or a suspicion of a dagger—four or five inches of steel to feel my way with if occasion requires."
"Oh, take Pagolo's sword," said Ascanio; "he can't use it, for he's nursing his heel with his right hand and crossing himself with the other."
"And here's my own dagger to complete your outfit," said Cellini. "Strike with it all you please, young man, but do not leave it in the wound; it would be altogether too handsome a present to the wounded man, for the hilt was carved by myself, and is worth a hundred golden crowns, if it is worth a sou."
"And the blade?" queried Jacques Aubry. "The hilt is very valuable, no doubt, but at such a time the blade is of the greatest importance to my mind."
"The blade is priceless," rejoined Benvenuto; "with it I killed my brother's murderer."
"Bravo!" cried the student. "Come, Ascanio, let's be off."
"I am ready," said Ascanio, winding five or six lengths of rope around his body, and putting one of the ladders over his shoulder,—"I am ready."
The two venturesome youths walked along the quay a hundred yards or thereabouts, then turned to the left, and disappeared around the corner of the wall of the Grand-Nesle, behind the city moat.
Let us leave Ascanio to carry out his scheme, and follow Cellini in the development of his.
The objects upon which his eyes rested, when, as we have said, he looked toward the left, that is, in the direction of the city, were two women, standing amid a group of timid spectators at some little distance,—two women, in whom he thought he recognized the provost's daughter and her governess.
They were in fact Colombe and Dame Perrine, who, after hearing mass, set out to return to the Petit-Nesle, and had come to a stand-still in the crowd, trembling with alarm on account of what they had heard of the siege that was in progress, and of what they saw with their own eyes.
But Colombe no sooner perceived that there was a momentary cessation of hostilities, which left the road open for her, than, heedless of the entreaties of Dame Perrine, who begged her not to risk her safety in the tumult, she went forward resolutely, impelled by her anxiety for her father, and leaving Dame Perrine entirely free to follow her or to remain where she was. As the duenna was really deeply attached to her charge, she determined to accompany her, notwithstanding her fright.
They left the group just as Ascanio and Jacques Aubry turned the corner of the wall.
Now Benvenuto Cellini's plan may be divined.
As soon as he saw the two women coming toward him, he himself stepped forward to meet them, and gallantly offered his arm to Colombe.
"Have no fear, madame," he said; "if you will deign to accept my arm I will escort you to your father."
Colombe hesitated, but Dame Perrine seized the arm on her side which Benvenuto had forgotten to offer her.
"Take his arm, my dear, take it," she said, "and let us accept this noble knight's protection. Look, look! there is Monsieur le Prévôt, leaning over the wall: he is anxious about us, no doubt."
Colombe took Benvenuto's arm, and the three walked to within a step or two of the door.
There Cellini stopped, and said to the provost in a loud voice, making sure that Colombe's arm and Dame Perrine's were safely within his own:—
"Monsieur le Prévôt, your daughter who is here desires to enter; I trust that you will open the door to her, unless you prefer to leave so charming a hostage in your enemy's hands."
Twenty times within two hours the provost, behind his ramparts, had thought of his daughter, whom he had so imprudently allowed to go out, being in considerable doubt as to the possibility of admitting her again. He was hoping that she would be warned in time, and would be wise enough to go to the Grand Châtelet and await results, when he saw Cellini leave his companions and go to meet two women, in whom he recognized Colombe and Dame Perrine.
"The little fool!" he muttered beneath his breath; "but I can't leave her in the midst of these miscreants."
He opened the wicket, and showed his face behind the grating.
"Well," said he, "what are your terms!"
"These," said Benvenuto. "I will allow Madame Colombe and her governess to enter, but only on condition that you come forth with all your men, and we will then decide our dispute by a fair fight in the open. They who remain in possession of the battle-field shall have the Hôtel de Nesle; ' Vœ victis !' as your compatriot Brennus said."
"I accept," said the provost, "on one condition."
"What is it?"
"That you and your people stand back to give my daughter time to come in and my archers time to go out."
"Agreed," said Cellini; "but do you come out first, and let Madame Colombe go in afterward; when she is safely inside, you will throw the key over the wall to her, and thus leave yourself no opportunity to retreat."
"Agreed," said the provost.
"Your word?"
"On the faith of a gentleman. And yours!"
"On the faith of Benvenuto Cellini."
These terms being agreed upon, the door opened, and the provost's retainers filed out, and drew up in two rows before the door, Messire d'Estourville at their head. They were nineteen in all. On the other side, Benvenuto, without Ascanio, Hermann, and Jacques Aubry, had but eight men remaining, and of these Simon-le-Gaucher was wounded,—luckily in the right hand. But Benvenuto was not given to counting his foes; it will be remembered that he did not hesitate to attack Pompeo single-handed, although he was attended by a dozen sbirri. He was only too glad, therefore, to abide by his agreement, for he desired nothing so much as a general and decisive action.
"You may go in now, madame," he said to his fair prisoner.
Colombe flew across the space which lay between the two camps as swiftly as the bird whose name she bore, and threw herself panting into the provost's arms.
"Father! father!" she cried, weeping, "in Heaven's name, do not expose yourself!"
"Go inside!" said the provost sharply, taking her by the arm, and leading her to the door; "'t is your folly that reduces us to this extremity."
Colombe passed through the door, followed by Dame Perrine, to whom fear had lent, if not wings, as to her lovely ward, at least legs, which she thought she had lost ten years before.
The provost closed the door behind them.
"The key! the key!" cried Cellini.
True to his promise, the provost took the key from the lock and threw it over the wall, so that it fell into the courtyard.
"And now," cried Benvenuto, rushing upon the provost and his troop, "every man for himself, and God for us all!"
A terrible struggle ensued, for before the provost's people had time to lower their weapons and fire, Benvenuto with his seven workmen was in their midst, slashing to right and left with the terrible sword which he handled in such masterly fashion, and which, forged by his own hand, met few coats of mail or breastplates able to resist it. The soldiers thereupon cast aside their useless arquebuses, drew their swords, and began to cut and thrust in return. But, despite their numbers and their gallantry, in less time than it takes to write the words, they were scattered all about the square, and two or three of the bravest, wounded so severely that they could tight no longer, were forced to fall back.
The provost saw the danger, and being a brave man, who in his time had achieved some fame as a fighting man, he rushed forward to confront this redoubtable Benvenuto Cellini, whom nobody seemed able to withstand.
"To me!" he cried; "to me, infamous robber! and let us decide the affair! What say you?"
"Oh! I could ask nothing better," replied Benvenuto. "If you will bid your people not to interfere with us, I am your man."
"Stand where you are!" said the provost to his men.
"Let not one of you stir!" said Cellini to his.
And the combatants on either side stood rooted in their places, silent and motionless, like the Homeric warriors, who ceased their own fighting in order to miss no part of a contest between two renowned chiefs.
Thereupon the provost and Cellini, each of whom already held his naked sword in his hand, attacked each other at the same instant.
The provost was a clever fencer, but Cellini's skill in that direction was of the very first order. For ten or twelve years past the provost had not once had occasion to draw his sword. On the other hand, during those same ten or twelve years hardly a day had passed that Benvenuto had not had or made an occasion to draw his. At the outset, therefore, the provost, who had counted a little too much upon his own prowess, became conscious of his enemy's superiority.
Cellini, for his part, meeting with a resistance which he hardly anticipated from a man of the robe, exerted all the energy, activity, and cunning of which he was capable. It was a marvellous thing to watch his sword, which, like the triple sting of a serpent, threatened the head and the heart at the same instant, flying from place to place, and hardly giving his adversary time to parry, much less to make a single thrust. And so the provost, realizing that he had to do with one stronger than himself, began to give ground, still defending himself, however. Unluckily for Messire Robert, his back was toward the wall, so that a very few steps brought him up against the door, for which he instinctively aimed, although he was well aware that he had thrown the key over the wall.
When he reached that point he felt that he was lost, and like a wild boar at bay, he summoned all his strength, and delivered three or four lusty blows in such rapid succession that it was Benvenuto's turn to parry: once indeed he was a second too late, and his adversary's blade grazed his breast, despite the excellent coat of mail he wore. But, like a wounded lion bent upon speedy vengeance, Benvenuto, the moment that he felt the sharp point of the sword, gathered himself for a spring, and would have run the provost through with a deadly lunge, had not the door behind him suddenly given way at that moment, so that Messire d'Estourville fell over backwards, and the sword came in contact with the individual who had saved him by opening the door so unexpectedly.
But the result was different from what might have been expected, for the wounded man said nothing, while Benvenuto gave utterance to a terrible cry. He had recognized Ascanio in the man whom he had unintentionally wounded. He had no eyes for Hermann or for Jacques Aubry, who stood behind his victim. Like a madman, he threw his arms around the young man's neck, seeking the wound with his eyes and his hand and his mouth, and crying:—
"Slain, slain, slain by my hand! Ascanio, my child, I have killed thee!" and roaring and weeping, as lions roar and weep.
Meanwhile Hermann extricated the provost, unharmed, from between Ascanio's and Cellini's legs, and, taking him under his arm as he might have done with a baby, deposited him in a little house where Raimbault kept his gardening tools. He locked the door upon him, drew his sword, and assumed a posture indicative of his purpose to defend his prisoner against any one who might undertake to recapture him.
Jacques Aubry made but one bound from the pavement to the top of the wall, brandishing his dagger triumphantly, and shouting: "Blow, trumpets, blow! the Grand-Nesle is ours!"
How all these surprising things had come to pass the reader will discover in the following chapter.