The Second Time Travel Megapack: 23 Modern and Classic Stories Read online

  These men were dressed in a new and odd uniform that gave no hint as to the service or the command. For the most part they were raw recruits, obviously not being the hand-picked warriors of the cardinal’s guards. They threw themselves before the withering blast from the machine guns with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism, yet this wanton sacrifice accomplished nothing. Not a man got as far as the main entrance—on the contrary, there was a heap of wounded and dead soldiers completely encircling the Louvre. D’Artagnan, the young man who was already a veteran of several major battles, who had slain any number of foes in hand-to-hand fighting, looked down at the carnage below him and felt sick inside.

  The fighting was soon over, someone had sounded retreat, and the scattered remains of the attacking army disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. D’Artagnan left his post to search for his three companions, he walked as though he were in a daze, his face wearing the expression not of a conqueror, but of a person deeply troubled. He found the three musketeers at the main entrance, Athos was talking to one of the attackers who had come under a flag of truce to ask permission to remove their dead and wounded.

  “By all means remove them,” said the musketeer. “You must turn all their arms over to the king’s guards, however.”

  “Mordieu!” exclaimed Porthos as d’Artagnan came up, “this butchery is distasteful, even though the swine didn’t deserve to live.”

  “But we must not be squeamish, my dear Porthos,” said Aramis. “After all, the king still lives, and the Louvre still stands.”

  “Yes, and at what cost!” D’Artagnan remarked, as though speaking to himself. “This slaughter would have been so unnecessary, had His Eminence never heard of a rifle or a revolver.”

  “But we might be dead or rotting in a cellar in Amiens, if we had not had the services of these weapons which you deprecate,” said Athos, who had just rejoined the others.

  At that moment they heard the drone of Clive’s motors overhead, and looking up they saw him dip his wings as he flew low over the Louvre. The four musketeers waved their hats in greeting; and he disappeared to the east. The sound of sporadic rifle fire could be heard in the distance, proceeding from several sections of the city of Paris, indicating that the attack on the Louvre was merely a starting signal for a generalized coup.

  “I am beginning to think that it would, have been better for us to have died or been trapped in America, than for half of France to die at the hands of the other half.” D’Artagnan said this with a seriousness that was strange in this carefree young warrior.

  “You may be right, my dear d’Artagnan,” said Athos, “but the damage is now done, and we must do what we can to restore order, and to preserve the kingdom.”

  “That is true,” replied d’Artagnan, “but if you have found these machine guns deadly, you have only seen the beginning of a series of machines and death-dealing instruments, the efficiency of which can not even be imagined. Richelieu is not so dull as to think victory over such odds would be easy—if he only knew what these odds were.”

  “I am afraid this is out of the hands of His Eminence by now,” said Athos. “He has given guns to the bourgeoisie and peasants, and they have had their taste of blood, and now I fear that blood must flow if the kingdom is to be preserved. I believe the cardinal will be fighting by our side before this matter is settled.”

  “If I am not mistaken,” said Aramis, “your prediction is about to be confirmed, for this appears to be His Eminence arriving now at the gateway.” A small company of horsemen, wearing the uniforms of the cardinal’s guards had just been halted by the guards at the gate. The company was led by His Eminence himself, who had fastened a flag of truce to his sword, and was weaving it impatiently in the face of the musketeer at the gate. The four musketeers cast questioning glances at each other.

  “You speak with him, Athos,” said d’Artagnan. The others agreed with their young companion, so Athos turned to the man who was restraining the king’s minister:

  “Allow His Eminence to enter, Monsieur,” he said, “but the others must wait there until we come to an agreement, see that they are protected.” Then to the cardinal who had wasted no time in entering once he had permission: “To what do we owe the honor of this visit, Monsignor?”

  “I come to place myself under your protection, Messieurs, while I seek to undo the harm I have done to France.” The cardinal was almost humble.

  “Now you’re talking, as M. Clive would say,” said d’Artagnan, who had overheard the cardinal’s speech. “Without someone like you to lead them, it should be fairly simple to put an end to this foolishness.” In his enthusiasm, the young musketeer had forgotten that he had just appointed Athos spokesman, but this turn of events had given him new life, and once again he was the carefree young warrior who had defied the most powerful man in France from his first visit to Paris.

  “If you will excuse us, Monsignor, we must take the precaution of asking for your word as a gentleman that you have no intentions upon the life of the king.” Athos disregarded d’Artagnan’s interruption.

  “Frankly, Monsieur, I did have earlier today, but since learning to what lengths the radicals will go when they once get the scent of blood in their nostrils, I am forced to acknowledge my error, and to do everything in my power to rectify my mistakes.” The cardinal was indeed humble. “Monsieur Clive was right, education must come first.” This last was spoken as though to himself, and then as if he were shaking off a cloak he stood at stiff attention and said: “I swear, upon my honor as a gentleman that I shall dedicate the remainder of my life to the protection of the king and to the welfare of France.”

  “You have given your word as a gentleman, Monsignor,” said Athos, whose noble manner even eclipsed that of the cardinal. “We know you are indeed a gentleman, but since you admit that you had contemplated taking the life of our king we must relieve you of your weapons, and forbid you to approach the king’s quarters until this uprising is quelled, or until his Majesty shall command otherwise.”

  Richelieu flushed crimson, but unbuckled the sword and revolver that hung at his side, and presented them to Athos. “And my guards, must they also disarm and remain in isolation?” he asked.

  “Your Eminence’s guards are excellent fighting men, as I have had occasion to learn,” smiled Athos. “We shall need them as fighting men. And you shall not be in isolation, Monsignor, as we will undoubtedly need you to assist Monsieur Clive and Monsieur de Treville in directing military operations, since you are the only man in France who has a complete knowledge of the army.”

  * * * *

  That night d’Artagnan made his way to the hotel of Monsieur de Treville, and found the place barricaded and under heavy guard. The musketeers had captured a supply wagon loaded with rifles and ammunition, and except for numbers were on an equal footing with the revolutionists.

  The young Gascon was well known by the musketeers, and was immediately recognized and welcomed in. By the men inside he was looked upon as the bearer of good tidings, and as he passed various groups on his way to the chambers of the captain of the musketeers they fell in behind him, and followed him up the broad stairway. They thronged into Monsieur de Treville’s antechamber, and waited with bated breath for the outcome of his conference with this gentleman.

  “I have been expecting you, my dear d’Artagnan,” said Treville, arising to greet him. “Perhaps you can shed some light upon what has been happening the past few hours. When the attack started we prepared to march to the Louvre to protect the king, but as we were about to leave we observed the attackers retreating, and so reasoned that you were holding strong. I then decided that it would show the better judgment to stay here until I received a message from you.”

  “Which was a good thing,” said d’Artagnan. He then recounted what had occurred during the day, while the captain of the musketeers listened silently. A loo
k of disgust crossed the face of the’ latter when d’Artagnan spoke of the surrender of the cardinal, but he said:

  “You did well, whatever may be His Eminence’s faults he is a fine general. France needs him now as never before.” Both men were silent for a moment, and then Treville continued: “Has Monsieur Clive any plans that might aid us?” he asked.

  “Monsieur Clive’s plans are our only hope,” said the musketeer. “Fortunately our hopes are well grounded, for if we follow his plans we cannot fail.”

  “Your words are well said and encouraging,” said the captain. “What must we do to bring this about?”

  “We must do two things: the first, and most difficult, will be to teach the musketeers the intimate details of the operation of the military equipment that is on its way here. This will be extremely difficult because we have none of the equipment to demonstrate to them. The second thing we must do is to disguise ourselves and make our way to Calais to receive the equipment when it arrives.”

  “Bravo! When shall we begin?”

  “Time is short, we must begin at once.”

  * * * *

  The days that followed immediately were somewhat of a preview of what was to happen about a century and a half later, with the exception that at least a portion of the “people” were well armed. Contrary to the expectations of the musketeers, the loss of the cardinal did not deter the revolutionists—as always occurs in any group, a leader soon appeared. So cunning was he in his strategy that by the end of the second day Paris was completely within his hands, with the exception of the Louvre, and the hotels of some of the nobility who at that date surrounded themselves with warriors. These latter had barricaded themselves within their hotels, and were, content to wait for the reinforcements that they were told they could expect. Those who were not so fortunate were promptly executed by the people who had been “born to be persecuted.” Many escaped to the country where they knew they would be safe as long as the fighting was confined to Paris, aware, however, that soon the whole kingdom would be involved in the conflagration.

  As the days passed new units of the revolutionist army converged upon Paris from the provinces. This city became a nightmare of pillage and plunder, shops were looted, and food supplies that normally would have lasted for weeks were soon exhausted. When this occurred the natural course was toward the fountainhead of supply in the country.

  Two weeks after the beginning of the revolution an army of the revolutionists assembled at the west gate of Paris. They were a bedraggled lot, the new uniforms that had been so impressive that first day were now grimy and torn. The fanatic gleam that had fired their eyes was now blurred by the watery sign of drunken excess. Many of them had lost the fine weapons the cardinal had given to them, and had armed themselves with what swords and muskets they could find. They were not prepared to fight a major battle, and they knew it, but as they well knew, their past deeds had so overawed the people Of France that they expected practically no opposition. Their mission was to plunder the surrounding country, to satiate the bellies that had quickly become accustomed to food and wine. The army of the revolution had degenerated into a band of plundering brigands.

  Nevertheless, they made an impressive showing as they marched forth from Paris. As their blood began to circulate and carry the fresh morning air to their tissues, and carry the alcohol out, a semblance of military appearance was restored to the ranks. In close formation they marched westward into the rich farm land in that direction. They had proceeded scarcely a mile when they were abruptly halted, for in the road ahead, and scattered through the fields on both sides of the road, were a number of monstrous machines. None of the soldiers had seen anything like this before; in fact, no one in the world was destined to see machines like this for over three hundred years to come. As the column halted the machines began to move forward, closing in on them from the front, and at intervals firing their guns over the heads of the confused revolutionists. The latter broke ranks in panic, and fled to the rear, but their flight was short-lived for the huge machines were also lumbering up from that direction, they were completely surrounded by the monsters.

  Then appeared what the revolutionists thought to be a new menace, in an object in the midst of the soldiers, many of whom were prostrate now, resigned to their fate, and expecting to be carried off by the immense vulture that had borne down upon them, screaming like the damned. The vulture left, however, without leaving any casualties, and the bewildered witnesses turned their attention to the object it had dropped. This object consisted of a leather pouch, which had been attached to one corner of the flag of France, and it was now reposing on the ground in the center of a wide circle of. the wondering men—none of whom dared approach near enough to examine it.

  “Well, pick it up and open it!” boomed an enormous voice from an amplifier in one of the tanks. In their haste to obey this order, the former circle collapsed in a scramble toward the pouch.

  One of the men finally got it open and extracted a piece of parchment from within. He looked at it, puzzled, for a moment then passed it on to the next man, who repeated the performance, and after it had passed through several hands it finally reached a man who had a smattering of education. He examined it closely for a moment, and then to the insistent demands of his companions he read aloud, as follows: “Men of France, we command you to put down your arms, and return to your peaceful walks of life. France has suffered sorely by your acts, but we intend to punish you only by the hardships your deeds have brought upon yourselves. You have no choice other than to obey, for unless you do you shall be immediately executed, (signed) Louis.”

  It took some time for the message to travel back to the men on the far edges of the circle, and while it was moving by word of mouth, a murmur of which grew louder and more threatening until a voice was heard to shout: “Down with Louis! Down with the kingdom! Freedom for the people!” This cry was taken up by others until even those who had but a few moments before nearly died of fright, were shouting for the head of the king. They had forgotten the machines that surrounded them in a menacing circle, and the great “vulture” that had dived upon them a few moments before, they remembered only the years of oppression, and the relatively few days of new-found freedom and plenty. Their memories were refreshed, however, by the blast from a cannon that was mounted on one of the tanks. Once again the voice was heard through the amplifier:

  “Drop your arms immediately, and return to Paris or we shall carry out our orders to execute you.” The voice showed unmistakable signs of impatience.

  An immediate hush fell over the assembled army, and each man looked to see what his neighbor was going to do. Some prepared to follow the orders, while others stood like puppets waiting for someone to man the strings.

  One who had some of the foolhardiness that they all had possessed a few days earlier, threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired point blank at the nearest tank, others followed suit, and soon bullets were bouncing harmlessly off the impenetrable armor of the tanks.

  “That is an encouraging sight,” said d’Artagnan, who was piloting the tank that was equipped with the amplifier. “At least it shows that the French people have not degenerated to the point that they have lost the courage to fight for what they think is right.”

  “Encouraging, yes, but inconvenient for us for we may be forced to kill some of them before they obey the king’s command,” said Athos, who was manning the guns of the tank.

  There was a slight pause in the firing after the first volley, and d’Artagnan’s tank moved forward, suddenly spouting flames that mushroomed out thirty feet in front of the machine. Once again panic seized the revolutionists, for here was a menace that they could understand. Others of the tanks followed the lead of the first, forming a ring of flame around the stricken army.

  “Put down your arms,” boomed the voice from the amplifier of the tank that was moving relentlessly
forward.

  This time there was no hesitation, and once the cardinal’s rifles were reposing on the ground the flames were cut off. By means of the amplifier further instructions were given, and soon a long column of disarmed and bedraggled men were returning toward Paris, each one having undergone a thorough inspection for hidden arms by some of the king’s musketeers, who had dismounted from the tanks for this purpose.

  Seeing that his support was no longer needed from the air, Clive landed his plane in a nearby field, and then walked over to where his companions were supervising the inspection of the last of the army of the revolution. He was greeted by Athos:

  “My dear Clive,” said the latter, “you have ended our revolution more easily than we were embroiled in it by His Eminence.”

  “Yeah,” was his terse reply.

  “You do not seem well pleased, Monsieur,” continued the musketeer. “Does it not gratify you to see the dogs lay down their arms so easily, without having to waste more ammunition on them?”

  “Maybe I’m a sissy,” said Clive, “but the only gratification I can get is in the thought that a lot more might have been killed.” He continued as though he were talking to himself: “It was my fault that this whole mess started, otherwise I would have been there cheering for those poor devils who were fighting for their freedom—even though they were misguided and made a horrible debacle of their revolution.”