Bellievre and I were in bed when the Admiral arrived, but the next morning we discovered that preparations were being made for almost instant departure.  We numbered about a hundred and fifty horsemen, and by ourselves could have made a spirited fight; but we were hampered by the presence of our leaders’ wives and children, and more than one man shook his head doubtfully at the thought of meeting the king’s troops.  I asked my comrade where we were going, and he replied that there were as many different opinions as horsemen.  “But for my part,” said he, “I believe our destination is La Rochelle.  That has always been the rallying-place.”

“’Tis a long journey, and with the women and children a dangerous one!” I remarked.  “We can be ambushed at a thousand places on the road.”

“Then,” said he gaily, “there are a thousand chances of a fight.  My dear Edmond—­we seem such good friends that I cannot call you Le Blanc—­do not look so gloomy.  To us of the Admiral’s house a brush with the enemy is as natural as breaking one’s fast.  They know the Coligny battle-cry by now, I assure you.”

“I am not thinking of ourselves, but of the women and children.”

“Ah,” said he brightly, “that gives us a chance of gaining greater glory.”

The sun was always shining and the sky always blue for Felix Bellievre, and if there were any clouds, he failed to see them.  He and I rode in the rear of the cavalcade, with the Sieur Andelot, Coligny’s brother, and a number of cavaliers belonging to his household.  The weather, fortunately, was dry, but the sun beat down fiercely, and at times we were half-choked by the dust that rose from beneath our feet.

As Felix had foretold, we struck westward, travelling at a steady pace, and seeing no sign of the king’s troops till shortly before reaching the Loire, near Sancerre.  Then the few cavaliers forming the extreme rear came riding hurriedly with the information that a large body of the enemy was pushing on at a tremendous pace with the object of overtaking us.

“The rear is the post of honour, gentlemen,” said Andelot, with his pleasant smile—­he was, I think, even more kindly than his famous brother—­“but it is also the post of danger.  We must keep these troops at bay until our comrades succeed in discovering a ford,” and we greeted his words with a loyal cheer.

The situation was in truth an awkward one.  Unless our scouts could find some way of crossing the river we must either surrender or suffer annihilation, and the word had gone forth that there must be no yielding.  “Faith, Edmond,” exclaimed Felix merrily, “it seems you are to have a good baptism.  One could not wish a better introduction to knightly feats.  Ah, here comes one of Conde’s men with news.”

A cavalier galloping back from the advance-guard informed Andelot that the ford was passable, and that the Prince expected us to keep off the foe until the ladies, with a small escort, had crossed to the opposite side.