The Pocket Bible; or, Christian the Printer: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

CHAPTER IV.
GASPARD OF COLIGNY

The burg of St. Yrieix stood in the center of the staked-in camp occupied by the army of Admiral Coligny. An inflexible disciplinarian, Admiral Coligny maintained rigorous order among his troops. Never was pillage allowed; never marauding. His soldiers always paid for all that they demanded from city folks or peasants. He went even further. Whenever it happened that, scared at the approach of armed forces, the peasants fled from their villages, the officers, executing the express orders of Admiral Coligny, left in the houses the price of the vegetables and forage with which the soldiers provisioned themselves and their beasts in the absence of the masters of the place. Finally, as a necessary and terrible example – thieves caught redhanded were inexorably hanged, and the stolen objects tied to their feet. Finally there never were seen at the Huguenot camps the swarms of women of ill fame that ordinarily encumbered the baggage of the Catholic army, and that, according to the ancient practice, were placed under the supervision of the "King of the Ribalds."

The habits of the Protestants in the army of Admiral Coligny were pious, austere and upright. This notwithstanding, the Admiral found it impossible to impose rigid discipline upon the numerous bands that from time to time attached themselves to his main forces, usually conducted a guerilla warfare, and emulated the royalists in rapine and cruelty.

The Admiral, the Princes of Orange, of Nassau and of Gerolstein, the sons of the Prince of Condé who was assassinated upon orders from the Duke of Anjou, young Henry of Bearn, besides many other Protestant chiefs, occupied several houses at St. Yrieix. The ancient priory served as the Admiral's quarters. Early in the morning, as was his wont, Admiral Coligny left his lodgings accompanied by his servants, to attend the prayers held in the Huguenot camp and called the "Prayer of the Guard." The officers and soldiers of the Admiral's post, together with those of some neighboring ones, filled on these occasions the courtyard of the priory, and standing erect, bareheaded, silent, they awaited in meditation the hour of raising their souls to God. Old soldiers grey of beard and seamed with scars; young recruits, barely beyond adolescence; rich noblemen, raised in the spacious halls of castles; field laborers, as well as artisans from the cities, who rallied to the defense of the "Church of the Desert" – all animated with an ardent faith, would there unite upon the level of Evangelical equality. The seigneur, battling side by side with his vassal for the holy cause of freedom of conscience, saw in him only a brother. Thus germinated among the Protestants the tendencies toward fraternity that were later to cause the distinctions of castes and races, so much prized by royalists, to vanish. A slight murmur, betokening the affection and respect that he inspired, greeted the Admiral's arrival. The rude fatigues of many wars had bent his tall and one-time straight figure. His white hair and beard, together with the pallor of his noble visage, now profoundly changed since the death of his brother, who was treacherously poisoned, imparted to the aspect of the supreme chieftain of the Protestant armies a venerable and touching expression. Encased from his neck down in armor of burnished iron, without any ornament whatever, and half concealed under a flowing cloak of white cloth – the Huguenot color – the Admiral was bareheaded. Beside him stood the brave Francis of Lanoüe, a young Breton nobleman. Courage, honor, kindness, were stamped upon his manly and loyal countenance. A sort of steel arm, artistically forged by Odelin Lebrenn, with the aid of which Monsieur Lanoüe could guide his horse, replaced the arm that the daring captain had lost in battle. When the murmur that greeted the Admiral's arrival subsided, one of the pastors, Feron by name, who attended the army, uttered in a benign voice the following short prayer:

"Our trust lies in God, who made the heavens and the earth.

"Our Father and Savior, since it has pleased You, in the midst of the dangers of war, to preserve us last night and until this day, may it please You to cause us to employ it wholly in Your service. Oh, heavenly Father! Our brothers rely upon our vigilance. They rely upon us, their defenders. Deign by Your grace to help us in faithfully fulfilling our charge, without negligence, or cowardice. Finally, may it please You, O Lord of Hosts, to change these calamitous times into happy times where justice and religion shall reign! Not then shall we any longer be reduced to the necessity of defending ourselves; then will Your holy name be glorified more and more the world over! All these things, O Lord, our Father! O, good God! we beg of You in the name and by the grace of our Savior Jesus Christ. We pray to You to increase our faith which we now confess, saying: I believe in God the omnipotent Father, and in his Son the Redeemer.

"May the blessing of God the Father, the grace and the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ remain and dwell forevermore among us in the communion of the Holy Ghost.

"Amen!"⁶⁷

"Amen!" responded Admiral Coligny devoutly and in a grave voice.

"Amen!" answered the soldiers.

The morning prayer had been said.

While the Admiral was religiously attending morning service in the courtyard at his headquarters, Dominic, the servant of his household who was captured shortly before by the royalists, was engaged in executing the crime plotted by the Duke of Anjou jointly with the captain of his guards.

Dominic stepped into the chamber of Coligny; he moved about cautiously, with eyes and ears alert, watching from all sides whether he was either seen or heard; he approached a table on which, standing beside several scrolls of paper, was an earthen bowl containing a refreshing drink that Coligny was in the habit of taking every morning, and which his faithful equerry Nicholas Mouche always prepared for him. Mouche was at the moment at prayers with the Admiral, together with the rest of the household servants. Dominic purposely did not join his comrades that morning; he figured upon their absence to carry out his nefarious deed. The poisoner took up the earthen bowl to drop the poison in. For an instant he hesitated. Brought up in the house of Coligny and ever treated by his master with paternal kindness, the thoughts of the wretch for an instant conjured up the past before him. Then cupidity stifled pity in the assassin's breast. He took out of his pocket a scent-bag containing some grey powder, shook the contents into the bowl, and stirred it, in order to mix the poison well with the liquid. Dominic was placing the bowl back from where he took it when he heard steps approaching. Quickly and tremblingly he slid away from the table. It was Odelin Lebrenn, bringing back the Admiral's casque, which was sent to him to repair, it having been bent in the day before by a ball from a large arquebus while the Admiral was on a reconnoitering expedition. Although serving as a volunteer with his son Antonicq in the Protestant army, Odelin exercised his trade with the help of a portable forge. Thirty-three years had elapsed since the day when he returned to Paris with Master Raimbaud. He was now bordering on his forty-eighth year. His beard and hair were grizzled with grey. His features betokened frankness and resolution. Odelin had not seen Dominic since his capture by the Catholics. He now congratulated him heartily upon his escape from the enemy, but remarking the wretch's pallor, he added:

"What is the matter, my dear Dominic? You look ashy pale."

"I do not know – what – you mean – " stammered Dominic, saying which the poisoner rushed out precipitately.

The hurry of the man's departure, his pallor and flutter, awakened the armorer's suspicion; but these thoughts were quickly crowded out of his mind by the sudden appearance of his son Antonicq, who ran in with flustered face and tears in his eyes, crying:

"Oh, father! Come quick! In heaven's name come to the Prince of Gerolstein who is just back to camp with uncle Josephin, the Franc-Taupin."

At this moment, Nicholas Mouche, the Admiral's confidential equerry entered his master's room. Not seeing the face of either Odelin or his son, both having their backs turned to the door, he cried out in surprise and alarm:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" But instantly recognizing the armorer and his son, for whom he entertained warm esteem, he added: "Excuse me, my dear Lebrenn, I did not recognize you at first. Excuse me. You and your son are really members of the household. Your presence here need not alarm me for my master's safety."

"I brought back Monsieur Coligny's casque," Odelin explained, "and my son came after me. I do not yet know the cause of his excitement. See how flustered his face is! What extraordinary thing has happened, my boy?"

"My sister – Marguerite – whom we thought lost forever – has been found – "

"Great God!"

"Come, father – the Prince – and my uncle – will tell you all about it – they will narrate to you the extraordinary affair – "

"What!" exclaimed Nicholas Mouche, looking at Odelin. "Is the poor child who disappeared so long ago found again! Heaven be praised!"

"Oh, I can not yet believe such a happy thing possible!" said Odelin, his heart beating between doubt and hope.

"Come, father, you will know all!"

"Adieu!" said the armorer to Nicholas, as he followed his son, no less wrought up than the young man.

"Poor father!" mused the old equerry as he followed Odelin with his eyes. "Provided only he is not running after some cruel disappointment!" Approaching his master's writing table to assure himself that the Admiral was supplied with ink, Nicholas's eyes fell upon the earthen bowl. He noticed that it was full to the brim – untouched.

"Monsieur the Admiral has not taken a single mouthful of his chicory water! Truth to say, in point of taking care of himself, the dear old hero is as thoughtless as a child! But here he is! He shall not escape a lecture;" and addressing Coligny, who now returned to his room after prayers, the equerry said in a tone of familiar reproach that his long years of service justified: "Well, Monsieur Admiral; what about your chicory water! The bowl is as full as when I brought it in early this morning – "

"That is so," answered Coligny with a smile. "The trouble lies with you. You make the drink so frightfully bitter that I postpone all I can the hour of gulping it down."

"That is an odd reason, Monsieur Admiral! Is not the bitterness of the drink the very thing that gives it virtue? Monsieur, you are going to drink it now – on the spot – and before me!"

"Come, let us compromise – I promise you that the bowl shall be empty within the next hour. Are the horses saddled and bridled?"

"Yes, monsieur. If we ride out this morning I shall bring along Julien the Basque and Dominic to take charge of your relay horses. The poor fellow Dominic, despite the mishap of the day before yesterday, which might have cost him dear, begged me this morning to choose him as one of the footmen to accompany you to-day, if there is to be any engagement."

"Dominic is a worthy servant."

"What else should he be? Was he not brought up in your house, monsieur, and the son of one of your oldest servants, the worthy forester of the woods of Chatillon?"

"Oh, my dear house of Chatillon, my meadows, my woods, my vines, my grain fields, my thrifty laborers – am I ever to see you again?" remarked Coligny with a melancholic sigh. "Oh, the country life! The family life!" The Admiral remained in silent meditation for a moment, then he added:

"Leave me alone. I have some writing to do."

The equerry left the room. Monsieur Coligny stepped slowly towards the table, drew a campstool near, and sat down upon it. With his forehead resting on his hand he remained long lost in revery, musing to himself:

"Why should this thought have come to me to-day, more than any other day? I know not. God inspires me. Let us listen to His warnings. At any rate, it is well to have our accounts clear with heaven. Besides, it is my duty to answer before God and men the accusations that are preferred against me. It is my duty to answer the capital and defaming sentence that has been hurled against me and mine."

Taking a scroll from the table, the Admiral read:

"As the principal author of and leader in the conspiracy and rebellion gotten up against the King and his State, the said Sieur of Coligny is sentenced to be hanged and strangled upon the Greve Square, and subsequently to be exposed from the gibbet of Montfaucon. His goods revert to and are confiscate by the King. His children are declared forfeit of their noble rank, infamous, and disqualified from holding office or owning any property in the kingdom. Fifty thousand gold ecus are promised to whomsoever will deliver the said Sieur of Coligny, dead or alive. The children of his brother Dandelot are likewise declared infamous."

Coligny flung back upon the table the scroll containing the extract of the royal decree, registered in the Parliament of Paris on May 27, 1569, and raising his tearful eyes heavenward, exclaimed in accents of profound grief:

"My poor and good brother! They killed you treacherously by poison! Your children are orphans, with none but myself for their support – and now a price is set upon my own life! To-day, to-morrow, in battle, or otherwise, God may call me to Him! Oh, let me at least carry with me the consolation that my own and my brother's orphans will remain entrusted to worthy hands!"

Coligny remained long absorbed in meditation. He then took a sheet of paper, a pen, and again concentrating his thoughts, proceeded to write his testament:⁶⁸

Of all His creatures, God has created man the most worthy. Accordingly, it is man's duty, during his life, to do all he can to glorify the Lord, render evidence of his faith, set a good example to his fellows, and, to the extent of his powers, leave his children in comfort, if it has pleased God to afford him any.

Although our days are numbered before God, nothing is more uncertain than the hour when it will please Him to call us away. We must keep ourselves so well prepared that we may not be taken by surprise. For this reason I have decided to draw up the present writing, in order that those who may remain behind me, may hear my intentions and know my wishes.

In the first place, after invoking the name of God, I make to Him a summary confession of my faith, imploring Him that the same may serve me at the hour when it shall please Him to call me away, because He knows that I make this confession with my heart and affection, and in the full sincerity of my soul.

I believe in what is contained in the Old and the New Testament, as being the true word of God, to which and from which nothing may be added or taken away, as it orders us. Lastly, I seek in Jesus Christ and through Him alone my salvation and the remission of my sins, according as He has promised. I subscribe to the confession of faith of the Reformed Church in this kingdom. I wish to live and die in this faith, judging myself happy, indeed, if I must suffer on that account.

I know I am accused of having attempted against the life of the King, of the Queen, and of messeigneurs the King's brothers; I protest before God that I never had the wish or the intention of doing so. I am also accused of ambition, on account of my having taken up arms with the Reformers; I protest that only the interest of religion, and the necessity of defending my own life and the lives of my family made me take up arms. Upon this head I confess that my greatest guilt lies in not having resented the injustices and the murders perpetrated upon my brothers. I had to be driven to take up arms by the dangers and the plots of which I myself was the object. But I also say it before God, I have endeavored by all means available to pacify, fearing nothing so much as civil war, and foreseeing that the same would carry in its wake the ruin of this kingdom, whose preservation I have ever desired. I write this because, ignorant of the hour when it will please God to call me away, I do not wish to leave my children with the brand of infamy and rebellion.

I have taken up arms, not against the King, but against those whose tyranny compelled the Reformers to defend their lives. I knew in my heart that they often acted against the wishes of the King, according to several letters and instructions that prove the fact. I know I must appear before the throne of God and there receive judgment. May He condemn me if I lie when I say that my warmest desire is to see the King served in all purity, obedient to his orders, and that the kingdom of France be preserved. On these conditions I would gladly forget all that concerns me personally – injuries, insults, outrages, confiscation of my estates – provided the glory of God and public tranquility are assured. To that end I am determined to occupy myself to my last breath. I wish this to be known, in order not to leave a wrong impression concerning myself after my death.

I request and order that my children be always brought up to the love and fear of God; that they continue their studies up to the age of fifteen, without interruption. I hold those years to be better employed in that manner than if they are sent to a court, or placed in the suite of some seigneur. Above all do I request their tutors never to allow them to keep bad or vicious company. We are all too much inclined to evil, by our own nature. I request that my children be frequently reminded of this, in order that they may know that such is my desire, as I have often expressed it to them myself.

I request that my children be brought up with those of my brother Dandelot, as he himself expressed in his testament the wish that they should be. That the ones and the others take for their example the warm and fraternal friendship that always existed between my brother and myself.

Loving all my children equally, I expect that each will receive as my successors that which is accorded to them by the usages of the country where my estates are situated (if the confiscation with which they are attainted cease). I request that the jewelry belonging to my deceased wife be equally divided between my two daughters.

I desire that my eldest son take the name of Chatillon; Gaspard, my second son, the name of Dandelot; and Charles, the third, that of La Breteche.

I request Madam Dandelot, my sister-in-law, to keep near her my two daughters, so long as she may remain in widowhood. Should she marry again, I request Madam La Rochefoucauld, my niece, to take charge of them.

Having learned that they burned down the college founded by me at Chatillon, I desire and expect that it be re-built, because it is a public good with the aid of which God may be honored and glorified.

I order that my servants and pensioners be paid all that may be due to them on the day of my decease, and do grant them, besides, a year's wages. In recognition of my great satisfaction with Lagrele, the preceptor of my children, for the care he has bestowed upon them, I bequeath to him one thousand francs. To Nicholas Mouche and his wife Joan, in reward of their good offices to me and my deceased wife, I bequeath five hundred francs, and an annual stipend of seventeen measures of wheat during their lives, because they have so many children.

When it shall please God to call me away, I desire, if it be possible, that my body be taken to my Chatillon home, to be there interred beside my wife, without any funeral pomp or other ceremony than that of the Reformed religion.

And in order that the above provisions be carried out, I request Monsieur the Count of Chatillon, my brother; Monsieur La Rochefoucauld, my nephew; and Messieurs Lanoüe and Saragosse, to be the executors of these my last wishes. Above all do I recommend to them the education and instruction of my children. I consecrate them to the service of God, entreating them to cause my children always to deport and guide themselves by His holy spirit, and to so behave that their actions contribute to His glory, to the public welfare, and to the pacification of the kingdom. I pray to God to be pleased with the benediction that I bestow upon my children, to the end of attracting upon them the blessing of heaven.

As to myself, offering to the Lord the sacrifice of Jesus Christ in the redemption of my sins, I pray to Him that He may receive my soul and grant to it the blessed and eternal life that awaits the resurrection of the body.

Finally, I request Messieurs La Rochefoucauld, Saragosse and Lanoüe, to be the tutors and guardians of my children.

Coligny was just finishing this testament, every line of which breathed sincerity, straightforwardness, wisdom, modesty, the tenderest of domestic virtues, faith in the holiness of his cause, love for France, and horror of civil war, when Monsieur Lanoüe entered the room with indignation stamped upon his features. He held an open letter in his hand, and was about to address Coligny, when the Admiral forestalled him, saying:

"My friend, I have just written your name at the foot of my testament, requesting you and Monsieur La Rochefoucauld kindly to accept the office of guardians to my children, and those of my brother;" and extending his hand to Lanoüe: "You accept, do you not, this mark of my friendship and confidence? Brought up under your eyes, my nephews and my children, if it please God, will be honorable men and women."

"Monsieur," answered Lanoüe with profound emotion, "in heart, at least, I shall be worthy of the sacred mission that you honor me with."

"May people some day be able to say of my children and nephews: 'They have the virtues of Lanoüe!' God will then have granted my last prayer. I entrust this testament to your hands, my friend. Keep it safe."

"It is not sealed, monsieur."

"Both my friends and my enemies are free to read it. What a man says to God men may hear," replied the Admiral with ancient loftiness. "Here I am now, settled with myself," the noble soldier proceeded to say; "now let us consider the military preparations for the day."

"Oh, what a war!" cried Lanoüe. "No, it is war no longer; it is treachery; it is assassination! I have a letter from Paris. They send me a copy of a missive to the Duke of Alençon from his brother, in the Maurevert affair."

"The cowardly assassin of Mouy?"

"Yes, the cowardly assassin Maurevert, who came to our camp with the mask of friendship, and who, profiting by the darkness of night and the defenselessness of Mouy asleep, stabbed him to death, and immediately took flight. Listen, Admiral, listen now to this! This is what Charles IX, the present King of France, writes to his brother:

"To my brother the Duke of Alençon.

"My brother, in reward for the signal service rendered to me by Charles of Louvier, Sieur of Maurevert, the bearer of these presents, it being he who killed Mouy, in the way that he will narrate to you, I request you, my brother, to bestow upon him the collar of my Order, he being chosen and elected by the brothers of the said Order a member of the same; and furthermore to see to it that he, the said Maurevert, be gratified by the denizens and residents of my good city of Paris with some worthy present IN KEEPING WITH HIS DESERTS, while I pray God, my brother, that He keep you under His holy and worthy protection.

"Done at Plessis-les-Tours, the 1st day of June, 1569.

"Your good brother

"CHARLES."⁶⁹

The Admiral listened stupefied.

"Never," observed Lanoüe after reading the royal schedule, "never yet was the glorification of assassination carried further than this! Oh, Monsieur Admiral, you often made the remark – 'You, as well as I and so many others, are attached by heart and principle, if not to the King, still to the Crown.' But this house of Valois will yet cover itself with so many crimes that it will inspire hatred for monarchy. Do we not already see springing up the desire for a federal republic, like the federated Swiss cantons? The desire already has spread among many men of honorable purposes, and it gains new supporters every day."

Nicholas Mouche appeared at this moment at the threshold of the door. "I wager," he said to himself, "that the wholesome drink of chicory water still lies forgotten." And approaching his master, he added: "Well, Monsieur Admiral, the hour has elapsed!"

"What hour?" asked Coligny, whose thoughts were absorbed in the painful reminiscences awakened by Lanoüe's words, "what do you mean?"

"Your morning drink!" answered the trusty equerry; and turning from his master: "Monsieur Lanoüe, I entreat you; join me in making the Admiral listen to reason. He knows that his surgeon, Monsieur Ambroise Paré, strongly recommended to him chicory water when in the field, because the Admiral often is twelve and fifteen hours at a stretch on horseback, without once taking off his boots. Well, he refuses to follow the orders of his physician."

"You hear the complaint of your worthy servant, Monsieur Admiral," remarked Lanoüe smiling. "I agree with him; he is right. You should follow the orders of Master Ambroise Paré."

"Come, come – it shall be as Monsieur Nicholas wishes," said Coligny, taking the bowl from the table. He looked at the greenish color of the decoction with visible repugnance, and carried the bowl to his lips.

At that very instant Odelin Lebrenn rushed into the chamber, dashed the earthen vessel from Coligny's hands and crushed it under his feet, crying:

"Thank God! I arrived in time!"

Lanoüe, Nicholas Mouche and Coligny were stupefied. Breathless with excitement and winded from a long and rapid run, Odelin Lebrenn leaned with one hand against the table. He made a sign that he wished to speak but could not yet. Finally he stammered out:

"A second later – and Monsieur Coligny would have been poisoned – by the potion – he was about – to drink!"

"Great God!" cried Lanoüe, growing pale, while Nicholas Mouche trembled like an aspen leaf as he looked at his master.

"Explain yourself, Monsieur Lebrenn!" commanded the Admiral.

"This morning, when you were away from the room with your servants at prayer, I came in to bring back your casque. I found Dominic here."

"That is so," said Nicholas Mouche; "he did not go to prayer with the rest."

"Without being surprised at finding Dominic in his master's room," Odelin proceeded, "I noticed, notwithstanding, that he was pale and confused. Later, God be blessed, I recalled the circumstance that, as I came in, I saw him quickly step away from the table on which stood the vessel which, as Nicholas afterwards told me, held the drink you take every morning, Monsieur Admiral. Into that drink, into that chicory water, Dominic dropped the poison."

"He!" exclaimed Coligny, horrified. "Impossible! A servant raised under my own roof since his early childhood!"

"Oh, the wretch!" cried Nicholas Mouche. "This morning, seeing me prepare the potion, Dominic asked me to let him attend to the matter. I saw in that only a warning to be careful."

"My God!" put in Lanoüe, who had remained dumb with horror and indignation. "Providence can allow such crimes, only to inspire the world with execration for their perpetrators. Can such wickedness be, Monsieur Lebrenn?"

"Dominic has confessed all. The instigators of the murder are the Duke of Anjou and the Count of La Riviere, a captain of the Duke's guards. The temptation of a vast sum decided the assassin to undertake the deed."

"Oh, Catherine De Medici, your children approve themselves worthy of you! They emulate the example you have set them!" exclaimed Lanoüe.

"But how did you discover the crime, Monsieur Lebrenn? Tell us."

"What I noticed this morning would have awakened my suspicions on the spot, were it not for the hurried arrival of my son and the tidings he brought me. I followed him in a great hurry. As we were passing by the inn that lies not far from my place and where the horses of Monsieur Coligny are stabled, I saw Dominic come out, riding bareback. His nag bore evidence of having been bridled in great haste. Dominic departed at a gallop. The man's frightened looks and his hurry to get off revived my first suspicions. I ran after him calling out: 'Hold him!' 'Hold him!' My uncle, the Franc-Taupin, together with some others of his men, happened to be in the wretch's way. They jumped at the bridle of his horse, and held him fast. As I caught up with them I shouted to him point-blank: 'You poisoned the Admiral!' Surprise, fear and remorse immediately drew from him a full confession of his crime. 'It is true,' he answered. 'I repent it. The Duke of Anjou offered me a large sum to poison my master – I yielded – the poison was handed to me – and I returned to camp in order to commit the murder.' The instant I heard this, I ran hither, leaving Dominic in the care of my son."

"Monsieur Lebrenn," said Coligny, grasping Odelin's hands with warmth, "It is thirty and odd years ago that I met your worthy father at one of the first councils of the reformers on Montmartre. I was then quite young, while your father, an artisan employed at the printing establishment of Robert Estienne already had rendered valiant services to the cause. It is sweet to me to owe my life to you – to you, his worthy son."

"The cannon!" suddenly called out Lanoüe, listening to a muffled and rumbling sound that came from afar, carried into the room by the early morning breeze, "It is the rumbling sound of approaching cannon wheels. The detonations succeed each other rapidly."

"Nicholas," said Coligny, without indicating any surprise, "look at my pocket-watch. It must now be nearly ten o'clock."

"Yes, monsieur," answered the equerry after consulting the watch; "it is nearly ten."

"La Rochefoucauld has executed my orders punctually. It shall not be long before we shall see one of his officers arrive. Lanoüe, let us be ready to jump on horseback." And turning to his equerry: "Order the horses brought to the door of the priory. Monsieur Lebrenn, I count upon having your son at my side, as usual in action, to carry my orders."