Altsheler Joseph Alexander
The Forest of Swords: A Story of Paris and the Marne
"What do you see now, John?"
"Nothing but one of the most beautiful days that ever was. It's a fine sun, that you've got over here, Philip. I can see through these glasses that it's made out of pure reddish gold."
"Never mind about that sun, John. America is a full partner in its ownership and you're used to it. I've heard that you have more sunshine than we do. Watch for our companions of the air, friend or foe."
"I see them flying; over Paris, but none is going in our direction. How far is our port of entry, Lannes?"
"We should be there in two hours, if nothing happens. Do we still have the course to ourselves or is anything coming our way now?"
"No company at all, unless you'd call a machine about three miles off and much lower down, a comrade."
"What does it look like?"
"A French aeroplane, much resembling the Arrow."
"Is it following us?"
"Not exactly. Yes, it is coming our way now, although it keeps much lower! A scout, I dare say."
Lannes was silent for a little while, his eyes fixed on his pathway through the blue. Then he said:
"What has become of that machine, John?"
"It has risen a little, but it's on our private course, that is, if we can claim the right of way all down to the ground."
Lannes glanced backward and downward, as well as his position would allow.
"A French plane, yes," he said thoughtfully. "There can be no doubt of it, but why should it follow us in this manner? You do think it's following us, don't you, John?"
"It begins to look like it, Phil. It's rising a little now, and is directly in our wake."
"Take a long look through those glasses of yours."
John obeyed, and the following aeroplane at once increased in size tenfold and came much nearer.
"It's French. There cannot be any doubt of it," he said, "and only one man is in it. As he's hidden by his flying-suit I can't tell anything about him."
"Watch him closely, John, and keep your hand on the butt of your automatic. I don't like that fellow's actions. Still, he may be a Frenchman on an errand like ours. We've no right to think we're the only people carrying important messages today."
"He's gaining pretty fast. Although he keeps below us, it looks as if he wanted to communicate with us."
The second aeroplane suddenly shot forward and upward at a much greater rate of speed. John, still watching through his glasses, saw the man release the steering rudder for an instant, snatch a rifle from the floor of his plane, and fire directly at Lannes.
John uttered a shout of anger, and in action, too, he was as quick as a flash. His automatic was out at once and he rained bullets upon the treacherous machine. It was hard to take aim, firing from one flying target, at another, but he saw the man flinch, turn suddenly, and then go rocketing away at a sharp angle.
Blazing with wrath John watched him, now far out of range, and then reloaded his automatic.
"Did you get him, John?" asked Lannes.
"I know one bullet found him, because I saw him shiver and shrink, but it couldn't have been mortal, as he was able to fly away."
"I'm glad that you at least hit him, because he hit me."
"What!" exclaimed John. Then he looked at his comrade and saw to his intense horror that black blood was flowing slowly down a face deadly pale.
"His bullet went through my cap and then through my head," said Lannes. "Oh, not through my skull, or I wouldn't be talking to you now. I think it glanced off the bone, as I know it's gone out on the other side. But I'm losing much blood, John, and I seem to be growing numb."
His voice trailed off in weakness and the Arrow began to move in an eccentric manner. John saw that Lannes' hand on the rudder was uncertain and that he had been hard hit. He was aghast, first for his friend, to whom he had become so strongly attached, and then for the Arrow, their mission and himself. Lannes would soon become unconscious and he, no flying man at all, would be left high in air with a terrible weight of responsibility.
"We must change seats," said Lannes, struggling against the dimness that was coming over his eyes and the weakness permeating his whole body. "Be careful, Oh, be careful as you can, and then, in your American language, a lot more. Slowly! Slowly! Yes, I can move alone. Drag yourself over me, and I can slide under you. Careful! Careful!"
The Arrow fluttered like a wounded bird, dropping, darting upward, and careering to one side. John was sick to his soul, both physically and mentally. His head became giddy and the wind roared in his ears, but the exchange of seats was at last, successfully accomplished.
"Now," said Lannes, "you're a close observer. Remember all that you've seen me do with the plane. Resolve to yourself that you do know how to fly the Arrow. Fear nothing and fly straight for our destination. Don't bother about the bleeding of my wound. My thick hair and thick cap acting together as a heavy bandage will stop it. Now, John, our fate rests with you."
The last words were almost inaudible, and John from the corner of his eye saw his comrade's head droop. He knew that Lannes had become unconscious and now, appalling though the situation was, he rose to the crisis.
He knew the immensity of their danger. A sudden movement of the rudder and the aeroplane might be wrecked. And in such a position the nerves of a novice were subject at any time to a jerk. They might be assailed by another treacherous machine, the dangers, in truth, were uncountable, but he was upborne by a tremendous desire to carry the word and to save Lannes and himself.
In the face of intense resolve all obstacles became as nothing and his hand steadied on the rudder. He knew that when it came to the air he was no Lannes and never could be. The solid earth, no matter how much it rolled around the sun or around itself, was his favorite field of action, but he felt that he must make one flight, when he carried with him perhaps the fate of a nation.
The Arrow was still rocking from side to side and dipping and jumping. Slowly he steadied it, handling the rudder as if it were a loaded weapon, and gradually his heart began to pound with triumph. It was no such flying as the hand of Lannes drew from the Arrow, but to John it seemed splendid for a first trial. He let the machine drop a little until it was only six or seven hundred yards above the earth, and took wary glances from side to side. He feared another pursuer, but the air seemed clear.
Lannes had sunk a little further forward. John saw that the bleeding from his head had ceased. There was a dark stain down either cheek, but it was drying there, and as Lannes had foreseen, his hair and the cap had acted as a bandage, at last checking the flow effectively. His breathing was heavy and jerky, but John believed that he would revive before long. It was not possible that one so vital as Lannes, so eager for great action, could die thus.
Now he looked ahead. Their landmarks as Lannes had told him before the fight, were to be a high hill, a low hill, and a small stream flowing between. Just behind it they would find a great French army marching northward and their errand would be over. He did not yet see the hills, but he was sure that he was still in the pathway of the air.
He had left Paris far behind, but when he looked down he saw a beautiful country, a fertile land upon which man had worked for two thousand years, too beautiful to be trodden to pieces by armies. He saw the cultivated fields, varying in color like a checker board, and the neat villages with trees about them. Here and there the spire of a church rose high above everything. Churches and wars were so numerous in Europe!
John checked the speed of the Arrow. He was afraid, despite all his high resolve, to fly fast, and then he must not go beyond the army for which he was looking. He dropped a little lower as he was passing over a wood, and then he heard the crack of rifles beneath him. Bullets whizzed and sang past his ears and he took one fearful glance downward.
He saw men, spiked helmets on their heads, galloping among the trees, and he knew that they were a daring band of Uhlans, actually scouting inside the French lines. They were shooting at the Arrow and firing fast.
He attempted to rise so suddenly that the plane gave a violent jerk and quivered in every fiber. He thought for a moment they were going to fall, and the sickening sensation at his heart was overpowering. But the trusty Arrow ceased quivering, and then rose swiftly at an angle not too great.
Bullets still whizzed around the plane, and one glanced off its polished side, but John's first nervous jerkiness in handling the machine had probably saved him. The target had been so high in air, and of such a shifting nature that the Uhlans had little chance to hit it.
He was now beyond the range of any rifle, and he drew a long breath of relief that was like a deep sigh. Then he took a single downward glance, and caught a fleeting glimpse of the Uhlans galloping away. Doubtless they were making all speed back to their own army.
He flew on for a minute or two, searching the horizon eagerly, and at last, he saw a tall hill, a low hill and a flash of water between. He felt so much joy that he uttered a cry, and an echo of it came from a point almost by his side.
"Did I hear firing, John?"
It was Lannes' voice, feeble, but showing all the signs of returning strength, and again John uttered a joyous shout.
"You did," he replied. "It was Uhlans in a grove. I was flying low and their bullets whistled around us. But the Arrow has taken no harm. I see, too, the hills and the stream which are our landmarks. We're about to arrive, Philip, with our message, but there's been treachery somewhere. I wish I knew who was in that French plane."
"So do I, John. It certainly came out of Paris. In my opinion it meant to destroy us and keep our message from reaching the one for whom it was intended. Who could it have been and how could he have known!"
"Feeling better now, aren't you, Phil?"
"A lot better. My head aches tremendously, but the dimness has gone from before my eyes, and I'm able to think, in a poor and feeble way, perhaps, but I'm not exactly a dumb animal. Where are the hills?"
John pointed.
"I can see them," said Lannes exultantly. "Since they did no harm I'm glad the Uhlans fired at the Arrow. Their shots aroused me from stupor and as we're to reach the army I want to be in possession of my five senses when I get there."
John understood perfectly.
"It's your message and you deliver it," he said.
Lannes' strength continued to increase, and his mind cleared rapidly. His head ached frightfully, but he could think with all his usual swiftness and precision. He sat erect in his seat.
"Pass me your glasses, John," he said.
"Now I see the troops," he said, after a long look. "Frenchmen, Frenchmen, Frenchmen, infantry in thousands and scores of thousands, big guns in scores and hundreds, cuirassiers, hussars, cannoneers! Ah! It's a sight to kindle a dead heart back to life! John, this is one of the great wheels in the mighty machine that is to move forward! Here come two aeroplanes, scouts sent forward to see who and what we are."
"You are sure they contain genuine Frenchmen? Remember the fellow who shot you."
"Frenchmen, good and true. I can see them for myself."
He moved his hand, and in a few moments John heard hissing and purring near, as if great birds were flying to meet him. The outlines of the hovering planes showed by his side, and Lannes called in a loud voice to shrouded and visored men.
"Philip Lannes and his comrade, John Scott, with a message from Paris to the commander!" he exclaimed.
He was his old self again, erect, intense, dramatic. He evidently expected the name Philip Lannes to be known well to them, and it was, as a cheer followed high in air.
"Now, John," said Lannes, "Be careful! Your hardest task is before you, to land. But I've noticed that with you the harder the task the better you do it. Make for that wide green space to the left of the stream and come down as slowly and gently as you can. Just slide down."
John had a fleeting glimpse of thousands of faces looking upward, but he held a true course for the grassy area, and with a multitude looking on his nerve was never steadier. Amid great cheering the Arrow came safely to rest at her appointed place. John and Lannes stepped forth, as an elderly man in a quiet uniform came forward to meet them.
Lannes, holding himself stiffly erect, drew a paper from his pocket and extended it to the general.
"A letter, sir, from the commander-in-chief of all our armies," he said, saluting proudly.
As the general took the letter, Lannes' knees bent beneath him, and he sank down on his face.
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.
