quitting the town, contrary to the agreement which kept it
there. Now, I tell you, you must pass with me through this
army across to Scotland, and if you refuse you may choose
betwixt two names, which the contempt of all honest men will
brand you with — you are either cowards or traitors!”
The eyes of the Scotch flashed fire; and, as often happens
on such occasions, from shame they passed to effrontery and
two heads of clans advanced upon the king.
“Yes,” said they, “we have promised to deliver Scotland and
England from him who for the last five-and-twenty years has
sucked the blood and gold of Scotland and England. We have
promised and we will keep our promise. Charles Stuart, you
are our prisoner.”
And both extended their hands as if to seize the king, but
before they could touch him with the tips of their fingers,
both had fallen, one dead, the other stunned.
Aramis had passed his sword through the body of the first
and Athos had knocked down the other with the butt end of
his pistol.
Then, as Lord Leven and the other chieftains recoiled before
this unexpected rescue, which seemed to come from Heaven for
the prince they already thought was their prisoner, Athos
and Aramis dragged the king from the perjured assembly into
which he had so imprudently ventured, and throwing
themselves on horseback all three returned at full gallop to
the royal tent.
On their road they perceived Lord Winter marching at the
head of his regiment. The king motioned him to accompany
them.
56
The Avenger.
They all four entered the tent; they had no plan ready —
they must think of one.
The king threw himself into an arm-chair. “I am lost,” said
he.
“No, sire,” replied Athos. “You are only betrayed.”
The king sighed deeply.
“Betrayed! yes betrayed by the Scotch, amongst whom I was
born, whom I have always loved better than the English. Oh,
traitors that ye are!”
“Sire,” said Athos, “this is not a moment for recrimination,
but a time to show yourself a king and a gentleman. Up,
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
sire! up! for you have here at least three men who will not
betray you. Ah! if we had been five!” murmured Athos,
thinking of D’Artagnan and Porthos.
“What do you say?” inquired Charles, rising.
“I say, sire, that there is now but one way open. Lord
Winter answers for his regiment, or at least very nearly so
— we will not split straws about words — let him place
himself at the head of his men, we will place ourselves at
the side of your majesty, and we will mow a swath through
Cromwell’s army and reach Scotland.”
“There is another method,” said Aramis. “Let one of us put
on the dress and mount the king’s horse. Whilst they pursue
him the king might escape.”
“It is good advice,” said Athos, “and if the king will do
one of us the honor we shall be truly grateful to him.”
“What do you think of this counsel, Winter?” asked the king,
looking with admiration at these two men, whose chief idea
seemed to be how they could take on their shoulders all the
dangers that assailed him.
“I think the only chance of saving your majesty has just
been proposed by Monsieur d’Herblay. I humbly entreat your
majesty to choose quickly, for we have not an instant to
lose.”
“But if I accept, it is death, or at least imprisonment, for
him who takes my place.”
“He will have had the glory of having saved his king,” cried
Winter.
The king looked at his old friend with tears in his eyes;
undid the Order of the Saint Esprit which he wore, to honor
the two Frenchmen who were with him, and passed it around
Winter’s neck, who received on his knees this striking proof
of his sovereign’s confidence and friendship.
“It is right,” said Athos; “he has served your majesty
longer than we have.”
The king overheard these words and turned around with tears
in his eyes.
“Wait a moment, sir,” said he; “I have an order for each of