Furthermore, I shall share with readers the locations where I have had the opportunity to learn the art of surgery, in order to better instruct young surgeons. It was in the year 1536 that the great King Francis dispatched a significant army to Tyrol, aiming to reclaim the cities and castles taken by the Marquess of Guast, the Emperor’s lieutenant-general. Leading this army was the high Constable of France, along with Monsieur de Montian, the Colonel-General of the foot soldiers, of which I was then a surgeon.

A significant portion of the army arrived in the region of Susa, where we encountered the enemy who had blocked our passage and constructed several forts and trenches. To dislodge them, we found ourselves compelled to engage in battle, resulting in numerous injuries and fatalities on both sides. Ultimately, the adversaries were forced to retreat into their castle, largely due to the actions of Captain Ratt, who, along with several soldiers from his company, climbed a small hill. From this vantage point, he fired directly at the enemy but was struck in the ankle by a bullet, causing him to collapse. As he fell, he remarked, ‘Now the rat is caught.’ I tended to his wounds, and by God’s grace, he was healed.

Upon entering the city, we walked over the bodies of the dead and heard the cries of those who were still alive beneath our horses’ feet, which caused my heart to ache. I truly regretted leaving Paris to witness such a sorrowful sight. While in the city, I ventured into a stable, intending to secure lodging for my horse and my servant’s. To my dismay, I found four dead soldiers and three others leaning against the wall, their faces horrifically disfigured; they were neither conscious nor able to speak, their clothes still smoldering with gunpowder. Moved with pity, I was approached by an old soldier who asked me if there was any possible way to save them. I replied that there was not. Without a trace of anger, he then moved closer and gently cut their throats.

Witnessing such extreme brutality, I expressed to him that his actions were cruel, to which he replied, hoping that should he ever find himself in a similar predicament, someone would grant him the same swift end to prevent a prolonged suffering. Returning to our main narrative, the enemy was summoned to surrender, which they promptly did, departing with only their lives spared, each carrying a white staff; the majority sought refuge at the Castle of Villane, where about 200 Spaniards were stationed. Monsieur the Constable insisted on not leaving them behind so that the route would be cleared.

This castle, positioned atop a small hill, offered significant protection to its inhabitants, who were confident that artillery could not be effectively positioned to target them. They were summoned to surrender or face destruction, a threat they outright rejected, proudly claiming loyalty to the Emperor as equal to that of Monsieur the Constable’s allegiance to his own king. Following their refusal, by the force of arms, two large cannons were hauled up overnight using ropes and pulleys by the Swiss and the Lansquenets. Unfortunately, due to a severe lapse in caution, a gunner accidentally ignited a large bag of gunpowder, resulting in his death along with ten or twelve soldiers. Moreover, the blast revealed the position of the artillery, leading to continuous fire from the castle directed at the newly exposed cannons, causing numerous casualties and injuries among our forces throughout the night.

The following morning, at the crack of dawn, we established a battery that quickly managed to create a breach. No sooner had this breach been made than the enemy sought a parley with us; it was, however, too late for diplomatic resolutions. In the interim, our French infantry, capitalizing on the confusion of our foes, stormed the breach and mercilessly cut down the defenders, sparing only a young and vibrant Piedmontese woman whom a high-ranking lord chose to protect, likely for companionship during the perilous nights, guarding against the metaphorical ‘greedy wolf’.

The captain and ensign of the enemy were captured alive but were promptly executed by hanging at the city gates. This grim spectacle served as a stern warning to the Imperial soldiers against the futility and peril of defending such positions against a considerably larger force.

Meanwhile, the castle’s defenders, witnessing our troops advancing with relentless aggression, exerted every effort to hold their ground. They inflicted significant casualties using pikes, muskets, and stones, thus keeping our surgeons exceedingly busy. At that time, I was a freshwater soldier, unacquainted with the initial treatment of gunshot wounds.

Indeed, I had read in John de Vigo’s first book on general wounds, specifically in chapter eight, that wounds inflicted by firearms carried a degree of venom due to the gunpowder. The recommended treatment mandated cauterizing these wounds with scalding elder oil combined with a small amount of treacle. Aware that this treatment could cause significant pain to the patient, I was keen to first observe how other surgeons approached the initial dressing of such wounds. They seemed to apply the hottest oil directly to the injuries, along with tents and setons, which gave me the confidence to follow suit.

However, when I found myself short of oil, I resorted to using a concoction made from egg yolks, rose oil, and turpentine as a substitute. That night, I could not rest easily, plagued by the fear that my failure to cauterize could result in the deaths of patients from poisoning. This anxiety compelled me to rise early in the morning to check on those I had treated. To my surprise, I discovered that the patients to whom I had applied my digestive remedy felt little pain and exhibited neither inflammation nor swelling, having rested relatively well through the night. In contrast, the others who had received the burning oil were feverish, in considerable pain, and showed swelling around the edges of their wounds. This led me to a firm resolution: I would never again resort to the cruel practice of burning men wounded by gunfire.

While in Turin, I encountered a surgeon renowned above all others for treating gunshot wounds. I endeavored to earn his trust to learn his secret balm, which he used for dressing such wounds. It took two years of persistence, along with numerous gifts and favors, before he finally shared his recipe with me. His method involved boiling newly birthed puppies in lily oil, adding prepared earthworms and Venice turpentine. I was overjoyed and relieved to discover that his remedy was similar to one I had fortuitously come across myself. Thus, I learned to treat gunshot wounds not from books, but from direct experience and the sharing of secretive remedies.

During my time in Piedmont, the Lord Marshal of Montjean served as the lieutenant general for the King, overseeing ten to twelve thousand men stationed across various cities and castles. These troops frequently engaged in combat, using swords, other weapons, and muskets. Often, if four soldiers were injured, I was tasked with treating at least three of them. Whether it involved amputating an arm or leg, trepanning, or managing fractures and dislocations, I managed these challenges adeptly.

The Lord Marshal frequently dispatched me to tend to wounded soldiers, not only in Turin but in other cities as well, ensuring I was continuously traveling on these assignments. At one point, the Marshal brought in a physician from Milan, celebrated for his medical acumen on par with the esteemed Monsieur le Grand, to treat his hepatic flux. Unfortunately, despite the physician’s expertise, the Marshal ultimately succumbed to his illness.

During my time in Turin, a physician would frequently visit the wounded, and he always found me present. I often consulted with him and other surgeons. Whenever we resolved to undertake a serious surgical procedure, it was Ambroise Paré who put his skills to work, and I assisted him promptly and with dexterity, demonstrating a level of confidence that impressed the physician. He marveled at my readiness in surgery, particularly given my young age.

One day, while speaking with the Lord Marshall, the physician remarked, “Signor, you have a young surgeon in years, but he possesses the wisdom and experience of an old man. Take good care of him, for he will bring you service and honour.” Little did he know that I had spent three years in the Hospital of Paris, where I honed my skills in treating the sick.

Eventually, Monsieur Marshall succumbed to a hepatic flux. Following his death, the King appointed Monsieur the Marshall of Annebault to take his place. To my honour, he invited me to accompany him, assuring me that he would treat me as well, if not better, than Monsieur Marshall Mountain had. However, I declined the offer, still grieving for the loss of my master, who had loved me dearly, and whom I cherished in equal measure. I then returned to Paris.

I traveled to the Camp of Marolle alongside the late Monsieur de Rohan, where we were directly in the service of King Francis. As the surgeon for Monsieur de Rohan’s company, I had first-hand encounters with the unfolding events. King Francis received urgent news from Monsieur de Estampes, the governor of Brittany, informing him that the English fleet had set sail to land in Lower Brittany. He implored the king to dispatch Monsieur de Rohan and Monsieur de Laval to the region, as they were local nobles and their presence would likely rally the native forces to repel the English and prevent their landing.

Upon this advisement, His Majesty swiftly assigned the said Lords as lieutenants, providing them with authority equivalent to that of the governor. They embraced their duties and promptly set out by post, taking me along to Landreneau. Here we encountered a region in arms; alarm bells rang across the harbors, spanning Brest, Conquet, Crozon, Le Fou Doulac, and Laudanec. Each location was heavily fortified with artillery, including cannons, demi-cannons, culverins, sakers, serpentines, falcons, and arquebuses. Both Breton and French soldiers were well-prepared, determined to thwart any English landing attempt.

As the enemy’s army approached close enough to come within cannon range, or as I like to say, “the mouth of the cannon”, we were ready. Upon their attempt to land, a barrage of cannon shots greeted them. Unveiling our warships and artillery, we watched as the English fleet, once a formidable threat, turned back to sea. I felt a surge of relief and satisfaction seeing their ships, numerous and well-organized, resembling a forest marching across the sea, hoisting their sails and retreating.

I witnessed something quite astonishing: the large cannonballs would rebound off the surface of the water as if they were striking the ground. To shorten the story, the English inflicted no harm upon us and returned safely to England, leaving us in peace. We remained stationed in that region until we were assured that their forces had been dispersed. Meanwhile, our cavalry engaged in various displays of skill, such as jousting, dueling, and other activities, which provided me with ample opportunities to occupy my time.

To entertain Monsieur de Rohan, Laval, and other gentlemen, Monsieur de Estampes arranged for several country girls to attend the feasts and sing songs in the Low Breton language. Their singing, however, resembled the croaking of frogs during mating season. He also had them perform the traditional Brittany dance, the Triory (a very vigorous agricultural dance, which calls for much leaping and agility), but without moving their feet nor buttocks, providing much amusement for everyone.

At times, they summoned the wrestlers from the cities and towns to compete for a prize, and these matches often didn’t end until someone sustained a broken leg or arm, or dislocated shoulder or hip. There was a small man from Low Brittany, stocky and well-built, who dominated the field for quite some time. With his skill and strength, he managed to throw five or six opponents to the ground. Then, a renowned schoolmaster, said to be one of the finest wrestlers in all of Brittany, entered the arena. He removed his long jacket, revealing his breeches and doublet, and stood beside the little man, appearing as if he were tied to the smaller wrestler’s waist.

Despite both competitors gripping each other’s collars, they seemed evenly matched in strength and skill for a considerable time, unable to gain any advantage. However, the little Britany man suddenly executed a nimble leap beneath the large professor, lifting him onto his shoulder and casting him to the ground, where he fell on his kidneys and lay spread out like a frog. This unexpected move amused the crowd, who laughed at the small man’s skill and strength. Embittered by being bested by someone of much smaller stature, the frustrated schoolmaster, this great Davito, rose angrily, eager to seek his revenge.

They grasped each other’s collars once more, and for quite a while, they maintained their grip without tumbling to the ground. Eventually, the larger man allowed himself to fall onto the smaller competitor, landing heavily with his elbow striking the pitch of the little man’s stomach, bursting his heart and killing him stark dead.  Realizing he had dealt a deadly blow, the schoolmaster retrieved his long cassock and hurried away, tail tucked between his legs, looking to hide, because the small man remained unresponsive despite the attempts to revive him with wine, vinegar, and other things. I approached him and checked his pulse, which did not beat at all. I announced he had perished, to which the Brittanes in charge of the wrestling matches remarked in their native tongue that this was not part of the sport.

Some mentioned that the pedagogue had a history of such violent outcomes, recalling an incident from a wrestling match the year before. Compelled by curiosity and professional diligence, I decided to conduct an autopsy to ascertain the cause of this sudden death. Upon examination, I discovered a substantial amount of blood in the thorax and the lower abdomen. Despite extensive efforts, I was unable to locate any apertions that could have resulted in such severe internal bleeding, leading me to believe it was caused either through Diapedesis or Anastomosis—that is, the leakage or seepage of blood through the vessels’ walls or pores respectively. Following these events, the poor little wrestler was buried.

After these solemn duties, I bade farewell to Messieurs de Rohan, de Laval, and Estamps. In a generous display of gratitude, Monsieur de Rohan presented me with fifty double ducats and an ambling horse, Monsieur de Laval gave another horse for my assistant, and Monsieur de Estamps gifted me a diamond worth thirty crowns. With these parting gifts, I then made my way back to my home in Paris.

Not long after, Monsieur de Rohan took me with him on horseback to the camp at Perpignan. Once there, the enemy launched a Sally forth, encircling three pieces of our artillery. Thankfully, they were driven back to the city gates, but not without inflicting considerable harm and causing fatalities among our ranks. Among the wounded was de Brissac, who was the chief master of artillery at the time; he sustained a musket shot to his shoulder. As he made his way back to his tent, the other injured soldiers followed him, eager to receive treatment from the army’s surgeons. Upon arriving at his tent and settling onto his bed, his wound was examined by three or four of the most skilled surgeons in the camp. Despite their efforts, they were unable to locate the bullet, concluding that it had lodged itself inside his body.

Eventually, he called on me to see if I had more expertise than the others because he had known me from our time in Piedmont. After I arrived, I asked him to get out of bed and replicate the position he was in when he was injured. He complied, gripping a javelin in his hands as he had held his pike during the skirmish. Placing my hand around the wound, I detected a small bulge beneath the shoulder blade where the bullet lay embedded in the flesh. After pinpointing the location, I showed the other surgeons where it was. Master Nicholas Lavernaut, the surgeon to Monsieur the Dauphin, who was the King’s lieutenant in that army, then extracted the bullet. Nevertheless, the credit for locating it remained with me.

I witnessed a remarkable incident: a soldier struck one of his comrades on the head with a halberd, penetrating even to the left ventricle of the brain, yet he did not immediately fall to the ground. The assailant claimed he had heard that the victim had cheated at dice, making off with a substantial sum of money, and that cheating was his customary practice. I was called upon to tend to his wounds, although I approached the task with the grim knowledge that he would not survive for long. After I treated him, he managed to make his way alone to his lodgings, which were at least two hundred paces away. I instructed one of his companions to fetch a priest to attend to the state of his soul. This companion assisted him, ensuring that someone stayed by his side until his final breath. 

The following day, the patient sent his female companion, disguised in boys’ attire, to request that I come to dress his wound. I declined, fearing he might expire while under my care.  And to put off being asked again for a bit longer, I explained that the dressing should not be removed until the third day. Even untouched, his survival seemed unlikely. On the third day, he came to me, staggering into my tent where I was with his female companion, and implored me earnestly to attend to his dressing. He showed me a purse containing one hundred or one hundred and twenty pieces of gold, promising to reward me generously. Despite this, I continued to postpone removing his dressing, fearing he might die right then and there. Several gentlemen then urged me to attend to him, which I agreed to do at their behest. Sadly, whilst I was dressing him, he succumbed to a convulsion and died in my hands. 

The priest remained by his side until the end, seizing the purse out of fear that someone else might take it, claiming that he would say masses for the soul of the deceased. Additionally, he equipped himself with the soldier’s clothes and all of his belongings. I share this account as a curious anomaly, for it is remarkable that the soldier did not collapse after receiving such a severe blow and retained his faculties right up until his death.

Soon afterward, we decided to break camp for several reasons; firstly, we were informed that four companies of Spaniards had entered Perpignan; secondly, the plague started to spread significantly within our camp. Additionally, the local people warned us of an impending flood that could potentially drown us all. They based their prediction on the occurrence of strong winds from the sea which grew so intense that it left no tent standing, despite all efforts to secure and stabilize them. This left our kitchens completely exposed, and the wind whipped up so much dust and sand that it contaminated our food, rendering it inedible. We had to  boil our food in pots and other well-covered vessels.

We did not descend from our camp in a timely manner, which led to numerous carts and mule drivers, along with their mules, being drowned in the sea, resulting in a significant loss of baggage. Once the camp was dismantled, I made my way back to Paris.

King Francis mobilised a substantial army to resupply Landrecy. On the opposing side, the Emperor had amassed an equally formidable force, indeed somewhat larger: eighteen thousand Germans, ten thousand Spaniards, six thousand Walloons, ten thousand English, and approximately thirteen to fourteen thousand cavalry. I witnessed both armies positioned near one another, within cannon range. It was widely anticipated that they would not disengage without clashing in battle. Several rash gentlemen attempted to approach the enemy’s camp; they were met with gunfire, resulting in some being killed on the spot while others lost legs or arms. After achieving his objective of resupplying Landrecy, King Francis withdrew with his army to Guise, which occurred the day after All Saints’ Day in 1544. Subsequently, I returned to Paris.

The Voyage of Boulogne. 1545.

Shortly thereafter, we proceeded to Boulogne, where the English, upon seeing our army, abandoned the forts they had occupied, including Moulambers, the Little Paradise, Monplaisir, the fort of Châtillon, the Portet, and Fort Dardelot. One day, while moving through the camp to tend to my injured men, the enemy stationed in the Tower of Order fired a piece of artillery, aiming to strike down two horsemen who were lingering to converse with one another.

As it happened, the bullet passed exceedingly close to one of the horsemen, knocking him to the ground. Initially, it was believed that the bullet had struck him, but it had not; rather, the force of the air displaced by the passing bullet had impacted him. The blast was so strong that it turned the outer part of his thigh black and blue, and he struggled to stand. I tended to him, making several incisions to drain the blood that had pooled due to the contusion caused by the air from the bullet. Moreover, the bullet, as it ricocheted off the ground, struck and killed four soldiers who died instantly on the spot. I myself was not far from where this occurred, feeling the air stir around me, which caused no injury but prompted a moment of fear that made me duck my head quite low, although by that time the bullet had already traveled well beyond me.

The soldiers teased me for being afraid of a bullet that had already passed by. (My little Master) I believe that had you been there, you would not have been fear-free either, and we would have shared that moment together. What more can I say? 

Monsieur the Duke of Guise, Francis of Lorraine, suffered an injury near Boulogne from a lance strike. The lance entered above his right eye, angling toward his nose, and passed entirely through to the other side, between the nucha (nape of his neck) and his ear. The force was so tremendous that the head of the lance, along with a significant portion of the shaft, broke off and remained lodged inside, making it impossible to remove without considerable effort, even requiring the use of blacksmith’s tongs. Despite this horrific injury, which undoubtedly shattered bones, nerves, arteries, and other tissues, my Lord was by God’s grace eventually healed. He consistently maintained an open and exposed face, which was part of the reason the lance penetrated through to the far side.

I joined the expedition to Germany in the year 1552 with Monsieur De Rohan, who commanded a troop of 50 horsemen, where I served as the surgeon for his company, a fact I have mentioned before. During this journey, the high Constable of France served as the General of the Army. Monsieur de Chastillon, who later became the Admiral, was the chief Colonel of the infantry. He led four regiments of Landsknechts under the guidance of Captains Recrod and Ringrave, with each captain commanding two regiments. Each regiment consisted of ten companies, and each company comprised around five hundred men. In addition to these forces, there was Captain Chartel, who led the troops dispatched to the King by the Protestant Princes. This was a formidable infantry contingent, accompanied by fifteen hundred cavalry. Each cavalryman was supported by two archers, bringing the total to four thousand five hundred mounted troops. Furthermore, there were two thousand light cavalry and an equal number of musketeers on horseback, under the command of Monsieur de Aumalle. Alongside this military presence, a considerable number of nobility also arrived, seeking to partake in the festivities.

Furthermore, the King was joined by two hundred gentlemen from his household, as well as various princes. His personal troop, which consisted of the French, Scottish, and Swiss Guards, comprised six hundred infantrymen. Accompanying him were also the companies of Monsieur the Dauphin, Messieurs de Guise, de Aumalle, and Marshal St. Andrew, together totaling four hundred lancers. It was truly a marvelous sight to behold such a distinguished assembly. In this impressive array, the King made his entrance into Thou and Metz.

I must mention that it was decided that the companions of Messieurs de Rohan, the Count of Sancerre, and Jarnac, each commanding fifty horsemen, would encamp on the flanks of the camp. I assure you, we faced a severe shortage of supplies, and I can honestly say that on three separate occasions, I feared I would starve. It was not for lack of funds, as I had ample money; rather, we could procure provisions only by force, since the peasants had withdrawn all their supplies into the cities and castles.

One of the servants of a captain in Monsieur de Rohan’s company, accompanied by others, attempted to enter a church where the peasants had taken refuge, hoping to find provisions, whether by force or persuasion. However, among them, this particular servant was severely beaten and returned with seven wounds. He suffered a sword blow to the head that penetrated the second layer of his skull, along with four additional wounds on his arms and right shoulder, one of which cut through more than half of the shoulder blade, or omoplate.

He was brought back to his master’s quarters, who, upon seeing him so grievously wounded and knowing they were to depart at dawn the following day, believed he could never be cured. He prepared a grave for the servant, intending to cast him into it, stating that it’s either this or be killed by the peasants. Moved by compassion, I assured him that with proper care, the servant could still recover. Several gentlemen of the company urged him to allow the wounded man to be taken along with the baggage, given my willingness to tend to his injuries. Reluctantly, he agreed. After I dressed the servant’s wounds, he was placed in a cart, comfortably laid upon a well-covered bed, pulled by a single horse.

I undertook the role of physician, apothecary, surgeon, and cook; I tended to him until the conclusion of his treatment, and by God’s grace, he made a full recovery. Such was the remarkable nature of this cure that it drew admiration from all three factions. The horsemen of Monsieur de Rohan’s company, during the first muster, each presented me with a crown, while the archers generously contributed half a crown each.

Upon returning from the German camp, King Henry laid siege to Danvilliers, but those inside refused to surrender. We suffered considerable assaults, and our gunpowder supplies dwindled. In the midst of this, a culverin shot fired across the tent of Monsieur de Rohan and struck one of his gentlemen in the leg. I was obliged to complete the amputation, which I managed to do without the use of hot irons.

The King requested gunpowder from Sedan, and upon its arrival, they initiated a more intense bombardment than before, resulting in a breach in the walls. Messieurs de Guise and the High Constable, while in the King’s chamber, informed him of their decision to mount an assault the following day. They expressed confidence that they would breach the defenses and insisted on keeping their plans confidential to prevent the enemy from gaining any warning. All present pledged not to speak of it to anyone else.

There was a groom in the King’s chamber who slept under the King’s bed in the camp. Upon overhearing the plans for an assault the next day, he quickly informed a certain captain, telling him he had heard it directly from the King. He begged the captain to keep this information confidential. Although the captain promised to do so, he broke his word almost immediately. He went on to share the news with another captain, who then relayed it to yet another captain, and from there, it spread to some soldiers, all the while insisting, “Do not say a word.”

The secrecy of the plan was so well maintained that the following morning, a significant number of soldiers were seen wearing their hose and breeches, cut at the knee for ease of movement during the assault at the breach. The King was informed of the rumors circulating through the camp about the impending attack, which greatly surprised him, as there had only been three individuals privy to the discussion, who had made a pact not to share it with anyone. The King summoned Monsieur de Guise to inquire whether he had spoken about the assault. Monsieur de Guise steadfastly swore that he had not disclosed it to anyone. The Constable echoed this sentiment, insisting that the King needed to uncover who had revealed this confidential council, given that only three people were aware of it.

An inquiry was conducted from captain to captain, and eventually, the truth emerged. Each captain mentioned another, saying, “It was such-and-such who told me,” until they traced the information back to its source. Ultimately, they arrived at the first individual, who revealed that he had learned the information from a gentleman in the King’s chamber named Guyard, a native of Blois and the son of the late King Francis’ barber. 

The King summoned him to his tent, in the presence of Monsieur de Guise and Monsieur the Constable, to ascertain the source of his information regarding the impending assault. The King warned him that if he did not speak truthfully, he would be hanged. The man then admitted that he had lain down beneath his bed, attempting to sleep, when he overheard discussions about the assault. He shared this information with a captain who was his friend, so that the captain could ready his soldiers in advance for the attack. Once the King learned the truth, he declared that the man would never serve him again, that he deserved to be hanged, and he forbade him from ever returning to court.

My groom from the chamber departed with the grim news and spent the night with one of the King’s ordinary surgeons, Master Lewis. In the dark hours, he inflicted six wounds upon himself with a knife and slashed his throat. The surgeon was entirely unaware of the tragedy until morning, when he woke to find a bloody bed and the lifeless body beside him. He was greatly astonished by this sight and feared that others might blame him for the murder. However, he quickly realized that this was a result of the groom’s desperation, stemming from the loss of the King’s good favor toward him. Guyard was laid to rest. 

When those from Danvilliers noticed that the breach was wide enough for them to enter and saw the soldiers preparing for an assault, they surrendered to the King’s mercy. The leaders among them were taken as prisoners, while the soldiers were sent away unarmed. Once the camp had been dismantled, I returned to Paris with my gentleman, whose leg I had amputated. I tended to his wounds, and God cured him. I sent him back to his home, cheerful with a wooden leg, feeling fortunate to have escaped relatively unscathed, especially considering the dire fate he could have met with, getting miserably burnt, as you mention in your book, my little master.

Shortly thereafter, King Henry raised an army of thirty thousand men to carry out an expedition against Hedin. The King of Navarre, then known as Monsieur de Vendôme, served as the commander of the army and the King’s lieutenant. While in Saint Denis, France, I was present as the various companies passed by. He summoned me to Paris for a conversation. Upon my arrival, he expressed his desire—though it was actually an order—that I accompany him on this expedition. I tried to excuse myself, citing my wife’s illness, but he countered by telling me that there were physicians in Paris who could care for her. He added that he too had left behind his own wife, who had just as good of a bloodline as mine, assuring me that he would treat me well. He then immediately ordered that I be lodged within his train (retinue).

Recognizing the deep affection he had for taking me along with him, I felt it unwise to refuse his request. I traveled to meet him at the Castle of Comt (Compiègne?), situated about three or four leagues from Hedin, where the Emperor’s soldiers were garrisoned alongside a multitude of peasants. He commanded them to surrender, yet they responded defiantly, declaring that they would never yield except in pieces. They insisted that they would face whatever came at them, vowing to do their utmost to defend themselves.

They placed their trust in the water-filled ditches, and after two hours of hard work with a substantial number of wooden beams and some empty barrels, they managed to create a path across. When the time came for the assault, they were bombarded by five pieces of cannon until a breach was made sufficiently large for entry. The defenders inside met the attack with great valor, resulting in significant casualties among our ranks due to their musket fire, pikes, and stones. Ultimately, when they found themselves cornered, they ignited their gunpowder and munitions, which led to the burning of many of our men as well as theirs, and nearly all were brought to the edge of the sword.

Despite the fact that some of our soldiers had captured twenty or thirty prisoners with the expectation of securing a ransom for them, this situation came to the attention of the council. It was decreed that a proclamation should be made by trumpet throughout the camp, ordering all soldiers who held Spanish prisoners to execute them, under the threat of being hanged for disobedience. This order was carried out in cold blood. Following this, we advanced and set fire to several villages, whose barns were filled with various types of grain, much to my great sorrow.

We proceeded on to Tournaban, where there stood a formidable tower that had served as a stronghold for the enemy. However, upon our arrival, we found it completely deserted, having been thoroughly pillaged. We then employed explosives to bring the tower down, turning it upside down with gunpowder. After completing this task, we disbanded the camp and I made my way back to Paris.

I must mention that the day following the capture of the Castle of Compt, Monsieur de Vendosme dispatched a gentleman to the King to report on the events that had transpired. Among other details, he informed the King of my efforts in tending to the wounded, highlighting that I had shown him eighteen bullets I retrieved from the injured. He also noted that there were several others that I had been unable to locate or extract. In his account, he spoke highly of me, more than I deserve, in fact.

The King then expressed his desire to enlist me in his service, instructing Monsieur de Goguier, his chief physician, to officially record my appointment as one of his regular surgeons. He directed that I should meet him in Rheims within ten to twelve days. When I arrived, he graciously requested that I reside close to him, assuring me that he would look after my interests. I expressed my heartfelt gratitude for the honor he bestowed upon me by welcoming me into his service.

The Emperor laid siege to Metz during the harshest days of winter, as many can recall from recent memory. Within the city were approximately five or six thousand men, including seven princes: namely, Monsieur the Duke of Guise, the King’s lieutenant; Messieurs d’Anguien, de Condé, de Montpensier, de La Roche upon Yon, and Monsieur de Nemours, along with several other gentlemen and a number of seasoned war captains. These commanders frequently led sorties against the enemy, as will be discussed further, resulting in significant casualties on both sides. 

Most of our wounded men succumbed to their injuries, leading to suspicions that the treatments they received were poisoned. This prompted Monsieur de Guise and the other princes to appeal to the King for my assistance, requesting that I be sent to them with drogues  (remedies), as they believed their supplies were tainted, given that only a few of their injured soldiers survived. I do not believe there was any poisoning involved; rather, it was the severe blows from sabres, gunshot wounds, and the brutal cold that caused such high mortality.

The King instructed a message to be sent to Monsieur the Marshal of Saint Andrew, his lieutenant at Verdun, to find a way for me to gain entry into Metz. The aforementioned Marshal, along with Monsieur the Marshal of Old Ville, enlisted the help of an Italian captain who assured them he could secure my entry, and he did so, for which he was rewarded with fifteen hundred crowns. Upon learning of the promise that the Italian captain had made, the King summoned me and ordered that I procure from his apothecary, named Daigue, whichever drogues (medicines) and as many as I deemed necessary for the wounded who were besieged. I complied, gathering as much as a single post horse could carry.

The King entrusted me with the responsibility of speaking to Monsieur de Guise, as well as the princes and captains stationed at Metz. Upon my arrival in Verdun, a few days later, Monsieur the Marshal of Saint Andrew arranged for horses to be provided for me, my servant, and the Italian, who was quite proficient in High Dutch, Spanish, and Walloon, in addition to his native tongue.

As we approached within eight or ten leagues of Metz, we only traveled at night. When we were near the camp, I noticed bright fires surrounding the city, approximately a league and a half away, which gave the impression that the entire land was ablaze. I feared that we could never navigate through those fires without being detected, which would lead to us being hanged and strangled, or cut in pieces, or pay a hefty ransom. To be frank, I found myself longing to be back in Paris, given the grave danger ahead.

By the grace of God, our affairs were so well managed that we entered the city at midnight, bearing a token that the captain had arranged with another officer in the company of Monsieur de Guise. Upon my arrival, I found Monsieur de Guise in bed; he received me with great gratitude and was quite pleased by my arrival. I conveyed the message entrusted to me by the King, and mentioned that I had a small letter for him which I would not fail to deliver the following day.

Once my task was complete, he provided me with comfortable lodgings and assured me that I would be treated well. He urged me to be present the next day at the breach, where I would meet with all the princes and various captains. As promised, I attended the gathering, where I was met with great joy and received with warm embraces. They expressed their welcome, assuring me that they were prepared to face whatever dangers might come, even to the point of sacrificing their lives if necessary.

Monsieur de La Roch upon Yon was the first to feast me (show me hospitality), and asked what was being said at court regarding the city of Metz. I shared my thoughts on the matter, as I deemed appropriate. He then urged me to visit one of his gentlemen, Monsieur de Magnane, who is currently a Knight of the King’s Order and Lieutenant of His Majesty’s Guard. Tragically, he had sustained a broken leg from a cannon shot.

Upon my visit, I found him in bed, his leg bent and crooked, utterly untreated. A gentleman had promised to care for his injury, claiming all he needed was his name and his girdle (purse). He then spoke certain words as if that would serve as a remedy. The poor gentleman wept and cried out in pain, unable to find respite day or night for four days. I could not help but scoff at the charlatan’s false promise.

I quickly tended to his leg with such skill that he was freed from pain and slept soundly through the night. Since then, thanks be to God, he has completely recovered and is still alive today, serving the King. The Lord de La Roch upon Yon graciously sent me a tunne (barrel) of wine to my lodging, and instructed me to let him know when it was finished so that he could send me another.

Once that was completed, Monsieur de Guise provided me with a list of certain captains and lords, instructing me to convey to them the King’s message. I followed his orders, delivering the King’s commendations and expressing gratitude for the duties they had performed in safeguarding the city of Metz. He also wished to assure them that their efforts would be duly acknowledged.. 

I spent more than eight days fulfilling my duty, as there were many individuals to whom I needed to speak. First, I visited the princes and others, including the Duke of Horace, the Count of Martigues and his brother, Monsieur de Bauge, the Lords Montmorency and d’Anville, the latter of whom is now a Marshal of France, Monsieur de La Chapel, Bonnivet Caroug, now the Governor of Rohan, the Vidame of Chartres, the Count of Lude, Monsieur de Biron, also a Marshal of France, Monsieur de Randan from the Rochefoucauld family, Boxdaille d’Etrez the younger, Monsieur de Saint John in Dauphiné, and many others, whose names would take too long to list. My primary focus was on various captains who had performed their duties commendably in the defense of their lives and the city.

I later inquired of Monsieur de Guise what should be done with the drogues I had brought. He instructed me to distribute them to the surgeons and apothecaries, particularly to the many injured soldiers in the hospital. I complied with this request, but I must say that I found it difficult to merely visit them—so eager were they for my attention that they sent for me to attend to their wounds personally. All the beleaguered lords urged me, above all, to advocate for Monsieur de Pienne, who had been injured at the breach by a stone dislodged by a cannon shot, resulting in a fracture and depression of the bone in his temple.

They informed me that when he received the blow, he collapsed to the ground as if dead, expelling blood from his mouth, nose, and ears, accompanied by violent vomiting. He remained speechless and irrational for fourteen days and experienced episodes resembling convulsions. His face became severely swollen and discolored. He underwent trepanation on the side of the temporal muscle, above the coronal suture. I assisted in dressing his wounds alongside other surgeons, and by God’s grace, he was cured and is alive today, for which I am profoundly grateful.

The Emperor ordered the bombardment to commence with forty double cannons, using gunpowder relentlessly both day and night. As soon as Monsieur de Guise observed the artillery positioned to create a breach, he directed the demolition of nearby houses to construct ramparts. The timber from these houses was laid end to end, and between two mounds of earth, they arranged beds and bales of wool. Additional beams and posts were then placed atop this structure as before. Much of the timber from the demolished houses in the suburbs, removed out of concern that the enemy might take cover and utilize the wood, proved beneficial in reinforcing the breach.

Everyone was busy transporting earth to construct the ramparts, day and night. The princes, lords, captains, lieutenants, and ensigns all took up baskets to set an example for the soldiers and citizens, who eagerly followed suit. Even ladies and gentlewomen, along with those without baskets, helped by carrying earth using kettles, panniers, sacks, sheets, and anything else they could find. As a result, by the time the enemy had succeeded in breaching the wall, they encountered a rampart that was even more formidable.

When the wall fell, our soldiers called out to those outside, shouting “The fox, the fox, the fox,” hurling a thousand insults at one another. Monsieur de Guise issued a strict order, under penalty of death, prohibiting anyone from speaking to those outside, fearing that a traitor might relay information about the situation in the city. Following this command, they attached live cats to the ends of their pikes and raised them on the wall, loudly mimicking the cats’ cries of “miau, miau.”

Indeed, the Imperialists were quite exasperated after investing so much time and resources in creating a breach that measured eighty steps, all to allow just fifty men to enter at once. What they encountered was a rampart even stronger than the wall they had just breached. In their frustration, they targeted the poor cats, shooting at them with their muskets as one would do with birds. Meanwhile, under the command of Monsieur de Guise, our troops frequently launched counterattacks. 

The day before, there was a significant rush among the young nobility to enroll themselves for the assault, led by seasoned captains. In fact, it was considered a great privilege to be allowed to charge the enemy. They would sally forth with a consistent number of one hundred or sixty armed men, equipped with cutlasses, muskets, pistols, pikes, partisans, and halberds, advancing even to the enemy’s trenches to rouse them from their position.

They promptly raised an alarm throughout the camp, and drums began to sound a lively beat—“plan, plan, ta, ti, ta, ta, ta, ti, ta, tou, touf, touf.” The trumpets and cornets echoed the call, urging everyone to saddle up and mount—“to the saddle, to the saddle, to horse, to horse.” All the soldiers shouted “Arm! Arm! To arms! To arms!” echoing the frantic cries of a wolf pack, each in their own tongue according to their nationalities. They rushed out of their tents and makeshift quarters as densely packed as bees escaping from a disturbed hive, eager to succor their fellows who had their throats cut like sheep.

The horsemen similarly arrived from various directions, galloping furiously, creating a cacophony of hooves—patati, patata, patati, patapa, ta, ta, patata, patata. They maneuvered skillfully to avoid being caught in the chaotic crowd, where blows were given and received. When our men realized they were being overwhelmed, they retreated into the city, continuing to fight as they withdrew. Those who pursued them were driven back by the artillery, which had been loaded with flint stones and square pieces of iron. Our soldiers stationed on the wall opened fire, unleashing a volley that rained down bullets upon the attackers like hail, sending them back to their quarters, where they remained. Not all our men emerged with their skins whole, and some were left behind as a tribute, joyfully dying in the bed of honor.

Wherever a horse was injured, it was skinned and served as meat for the soldiers in place of beef and bacon. I found it necessary to rush about attending to our wounded men. A few days later, further sorties were launched, infuriating the enemy, as they were kept from ever sleeping.

Monsieur de Guise devised a warlike strategy: he sent an unwitting peasant with two letters to the King. He promised the man ten crowns now, and a hundred crowns from the King, provided he delivered the letters. In one of the letters, he conveyed that the enemy showed no signs of retreat and was forcefully attempting to create a significant breach. The message expressed his determination to defend it, even at the cost of his own life and that of his men. He also noted that the enemy had positioned their artillery in a particular spot— which he specified— with such effectiveness that it was only with great difficulty they had managed to prevent the enemy’s entry into this, the weakest point of the city. Nevertheless, he remained hopeful that they would soon be able to reinforce it adequately to thwart any invasion.

One of these letters was sewn into the lining of his doublet, and he was instructed to ensure that he did not reveal its contents to anyone. Additionally, another letter was given to him, in which Monsieur de Guise informed the King that he and all those besieged had high hopes of maintaining their hold on the city, along with other matters that I shall refrain from discussing. 

They sent the peasant out into the night, and shortly thereafter, he was captured by a sentinel and taken to the Duke of Alva to report on the situation in the city. When asked if he had any letters, he replied that he did, and handed one over. After they examined it, he was sworn in to declare whether he possessed any others, to which he swore he did not. However, upon searching him, they discovered the letter sewn into his doublet, and the unfortunate messenger was hanged.

The aforementioned letters were conveyed to the Emperor, who summoned his council for discussion. It was decided that, since they could not take advantage of the initial breach, they would immediately reposition the artillery to what they believed to be the weakest point. There, they made considerable efforts to create another breach; they dug and undermined the wall and sought to capture the Tower of Hell. However, they ultimately refrained from launching a direct assault.

The Duke of Albe reported to the Emperor that soldiers were dying daily, with the number exceeding two hundred, and expressed little hope of entering the city given the season and the substantial number of troops present. The Emperor inquired about the identities of the deceased and whether they were gentlemen of note or distinction. The response indicated that they were merely poor soldiers. The Emperor then remarked that it made little difference if they perished, likening them to caterpillars and grasshoppers that devour the buds of the earth. He further stated that if they held any status, they would not be serving in the camp for a mere twelve shillings a month, and thus, their deaths posed no significant loss.

Furthermore, he declared that he would never withdraw from before the city until he had captured it, either by force or by famine, even if it meant losing his entire army. This determination stemmed from the significant presence of princes and much of the nobility of France within the city. He hoped to recuperate double his expenses from them and expressed his intention to return to Paris to engage with the Parisians, ultimately positioning himself as the king of all France.

Monsieur de Guise, along with the princes, captains, soldiers, and indeed all the citizens of the city, upon learning of the Emperor’s intention to eradicate them, convened to discuss their course of action.

Since it was not permitted for the soldiers, citizens, princes, or even the lords themselves to consume fresh fish, venison, or certain game such as partridges, woodcocks, larks, and plovers—out of fear that they might have been exposed to pestilential air that could infect us—such delicacies were strictly forbidden. They were expected to make do with a more basic diet, consisting of hardtack, beef, salted cow, lard, and ham. Fish such as green fish, salmon, sturgeon, anchovies, pilchards, and herring were also included, alongside peas, beans, rice, garlic, onions, prunes, cheese, butter, oil, salt, pepper, ginger, nutmeg, and various spices for pies, predominantly for horsemeat, which would have been quite unpalatable without them. Many citizens with gardens in the city cultivated large radishes, turnips, carrots, and leeks, which they tended to carefully and priced highly in anticipation of extreme hunger.

All these provisions were distributed by weight, measure, and fairness, according to the status of each individual, as we could not predict how long the siege would endure. Having heard from the Emperor himself that he would not withdraw from before Metz until he had captured it, either by force or by starvation, the rations were reduced. What had previously been sufficient for three was now shared among four. They were instructed not to sell any leftovers after their meals, although it was permitted to give the surplus to the wenches that followed the camp.

They always rose from the table with an appetite, fearful that they might be compelled to take medicine. Before surrendering ourselves to the mercy of our enemies, we had resolved to consume our donkeys, mules, horses, dogs, cats, and even rats, along with our boots and any other leather we could soften and fry. The besieged collectively decided to defend themselves with all manner of weaponry; this included preparing and loading the artillery at the breach with bullets, stones, cart nails, bars, and iron chains. They also prepared all manner of artificial fire, including boëtes, barriquados, granadoes, pots, lances, torches, squibs, and burning faggots. Furthermore, they were resolved to use scalding water, melted lead, and powder from unquenched lime to blind their enemies. They even planned to create passages through their houses to shelter musketeers, aiming to strike at their flanks and drive them away or force them to remain confined altogether.

The women were instructed to remove the paving stones from the streets and throw them out of their windows, along with billets, tables, trestles, and stools, which would have troubled their brains. Additionally, not far away, there was a strong guard post filled with carts, palisades, pipes, and hogsheads packed with earth, intended for barricades to be used alongside falcons, falconets, field pieces, harquebuses, muskets, pistols, and wild fire, which would have resulted in broken legs and thighs—attacks coming from all directions. Furthermore, at the intersection of the streets, there were other guard posts, each located about one hundred paces apart, equally formidable as the first, and they would not have hesitated to create a multitude of widows and orphans.

Had fortune turned so severely against us as to breach our fortified positions, we had still laid out seven large bastions arranged in squares and triangles, ready to fight in unison, each one led by a prince to instill courage and inspire the men to fight to the last breath, regardless of the cost. Furthermore, it had been decided that each person would carry their treasures—rings, jewels, and the best of their household belongings—to the main square, intending to burn them rather than allow the enemy to triumph and claim them as trophies. Additionally, there were individuals assigned the task of igniting the munitions, breaking open casks of wine, and setting fire to every house, ensuring that both our enemies and we would meet the same fiery fate.

The citizens had made this agreement rather than face the imminent threat of the bloody knife at their throats, the violation of their wives and daughters, and the prospect of being forcibly taken by the cruel and inhumane Spaniards. At that time, we had certain prisoners whom Monsieur de Guise had sent away under a vow of silence, to whom our final resolution, desperate as it was, had been secretly disclosed. Upon their arrival at their camp, they did not delay in revealing this information, which served to temper the intense eagerness of the soldiers who had been intent on storming the city to massacre us and seize our possessions.

Upon learning of this strategy from the formidable warrior, the Duke of Guise, the Emperor tempered his fierce anger, acknowledging that he could not enter the city without causing a significant slaughter, resulting in a gruesome loss of life on both sides. He foresaw that such an assault would only leave behind ashes and ruin, reminiscent of the destruction of Jerusalem wrought by Titus and Vespasian.

Having grasped our final resolution, the Emperor recognized the ineffectiveness of their assault, characterized by their relentless battering and undermining efforts, coupled with the rampant plague that afflicted his entire army. Additionally, he was well aware of the unfavorable conditions, the scarcity of provisions and funds, and the growing numbers of his soldiers abandoning him in large groups. Ultimately, he resolved to withdraw, taking with him the cavalry from his vanguard, alongside the majority of his artillery and infantry.

The Marquess of Brandebourg was the last to break camp, supported by certain contingents of Spaniards, Bohemians, and his German troops. He lingered for a day and a half longer, much to the dismay of Monsieur de Guise. In response, Monsieur de Guise ordered four pieces of artillery to be brought from the city, which were fired upon him from one side. Simultaneously, he urged the Marquess to depart hastily, which he did with all his troops in quick succession.

Being only a quarter of a league from Metz, he was seized with fear that our cavalry might attack him from the rear. This prompted him to set fire to his munitions and abandon certain pieces of artillery along with a substantial amount of baggage that he could not transport, as the advance guard, the main body, and the heavy cannons had severely damaged the road. Our horsemen were eager to leave the city in order to strike at their rear.

However, Monsieur de Guise would never allow this. On the contrary, he believed we should clear their path and provide them with bridges of gold and silver, much like a good shepherd who will not lose a single sheep. Observe how our dear Imperial allies departed from before the city of Metz the day after Christmas, much to the great delight of those besieged, as well as to the honor of the princes, captains, and soldiers who had endured the trials of this siege for two months. Nonetheless, not all of them departed; there remained twenty thousand who had perished—some by artillery, others by the sword, and many more due to the plague, cold, and hunger. Even out of spite, they could not enter the city to slay us or claim the spoils. Additionally, a considerable number of their horses had died, much of which they had consumed in place of beef and bacon. Upon returning to their encampment, they discovered various corpses still unburied, and the ground was turned up like the graveyard of Saint Innocent’s during the plague.

They also abandoned a number of sick individuals in their lodgings, pavilions, and tents. Along with them, they left behind bullets, arms, carts, wagons, and other equipment, including a considerable quantity of munition loaves that had become spoiled and rotten due to the rain and snow. However, the soldiers could only access these supplies in measured amounts. Additionally, they left behind a significant stock of firewood, sourced from the remains of houses in the villages they had destroyed within a two- or three-mile radius. They also left various other pleasure houses belonging to the citizens, accompanied by lovely gardens and grassy plots filled with fruit trees. Without these provisions, they would have been at risk of succumbing to the cold and would have been compelled to lift the siege sooner.

The aforementioned Monsieur de Guise ensured that the dead were buried and tended to the sick. In addition, the enemy left several of their wounded soldiers at the Abbey of St. Arnoul, unable to take them along. Monsieur de Guise generously provided them with ample supplies and instructed me, along with other surgeons, to tend to their injuries and administer medicines. We willingly complied with this request, confident that the Spaniards would not have acted in a similar manner toward others. Indeed, the Spaniards are often perceived as cruel, treacherous, and inhumane, rendering them enemies to all nations. This is supported by accounts from Lopez, a Spaniard, and Benzo of Milan, among others, who have chronicled the history of America and the West Indies. They have been compelled to admit that the cruelty, greed, blasphemy, and wickedness of the Spaniards have entirely alienated the poor Indians from the very religion that the Spaniards purportedly uphold. Furthermore, these accounts consistently suggest that, in terms of moral worth, the idolatrous Indians are worth more than the cruel Spaniards.

A few days later, we sent a trumpeter to Thionville to request that the enemy safely return their wounded men. They complied, dispatching carts and wagons for this purpose, although not in sufficient numbers. In response, Monsieur de Guise arranged for additional carts and drivers to assist in transporting the injured back to Thionville. Upon their return, our drivers reported a grim scene: the road was strewn with dead bodies, and they struggled to transport even half of the wounded, many of whom succumbed to their injuries in the carts. Disturbingly, the Spaniards, witnessing them on the brink of death, would discard these men before they even took their last breath, burying them unceremoniously in the mud and mire, declaring that they had no orders to bring back the dead.

Furthermore, our drivers reported encountering numerous carts laden with baggage that had become mired in the mud. They refrained from retrieving these carts, fearing that the soldiers from Metz might take advantage of them. I will return to the issue of mortality among the troops, which was mainly due to starvation, disease, and the cold. The snow lay two feet thick upon the ground, and they were forced to shelter in the earth’s caves, with only a meager covering of straw for warmth.

Despite each soldier having his own field bed and a covering adorned with sparkling stars, which shone brighter than fine gold, they enjoyed fresh white sheets each day and took lodging under the sign of the Moon. Whenever they had provisions, they made merry, paying their host thoroughly the night before so that by morning they could depart free of debt, shaking their ears in jest. They found no need for a comb to remove the down from their hair, whether on their heads or in their beards; however, they often discovered pristine white tablecloths but were left wanting for meals due to the lack of provisions.

Most of the soldiers were without boots, gaiters, slippers, hose, or shoes; in fact, many preferred to go without rather than wear them, as they spent all their time trudging through mud halfway up their legs. Because they went bare-legged, we jokingly referred to them as the Emperor’s Apostles. Once the camp was completely dismantled, I entrusted my patients to the surgeons of the city to complete their recovery. I then bid farewell to Monsieur de Guise and made my way back to the King, who welcomed me warmly and inquired about my entry into the city of Metz. I recounted all that I had experienced, and he generously gave me two hundred crowns in addition to the one hundred I received upon my departure. He assured me he would not allow me to be left in want. I expressed my deepest gratitude for the kindness and honor he had shown me.

Charles the Emperor ordered the city of Theroünne to be besieged, with Monsieur the Duke of Savoy serving as the commander of the entire army. The city was taken by assault, resulting in a considerable number of our men being killed or captured. In an effort to prevent the enemy from also laying siege to the city and castle of Hedin, the King sent Messieurs the Duke of Bouillon, the Duke of Horace, the Marquis of Villars, along with a number of captains and about eight hundred soldiers. During the siege of Theroünne, these lords fortified the castle of Hedin to such an extent that it appeared impregnable.

The King dispatched me to those lords to assist them with my skills, should the need arise. Shortly after the capture of Theroünne, we found ourselves besieged by the enemy army. Nearby, within cannon range, there was a clear spring where approximately eighty enemy camp followers, both women and men, had gathered to draw water. I was standing on a rampart observing the camp when I noticed so many idlers congregating around the spring. I requested Monsieur de Pont, the Commissary of Artillery, to fire a cannon shot at that unruly crowd. However, he refused my request, telling me that such individuals were not worth the cost of the powder it would take to fire upon them.

Once more, I implored him to aim the cannon, arguing that the more dead, the fewer enemies. He relented at my request, and upon firing, fifteen or sixteen were killed, with many others injured. Our soldiers then launched a sortie against the enemy, resulting in numerous casualties on both sides from musket fire and swordplay. Our troops frequently charged out against the enemy even before their trenches were fully established. The demand for my services was considerable, and I found myself overwhelmed, left with little respite both night and day as I tended to the wounded.

And I will tell you this, by the way, that we had confined many of them in a large tower with little more than a small bed of straw. Their pillows were made of stones, and if they had any, their cloaks served as coverlets. As the artillery prepared, the patients complained of pain in their wounds, likening it to being struck with a staff. One lamented about his head, another about his arm, and others echoed similar grievances about their injuries. Several wounds began to bleed once more, and in greater volume than when they were initially inflicted. It was then that I had to rush to staunch their bleeding. My dear friend, had you been present, you would have been greatly troubled with your heated instruments. You would have required a considerable amount of charcoal to keep them sufficiently hot, and rest assured, it would have felt as though they were being slaughtered like calves due to this cruelty.

Amidst this dreadful tempest, amplified by the thunder of these formidable instruments, and through the intense agitation caused by the collisions of the air reverberating within the wounds of the injured, several succumbed to their injuries. Others were unable to find rest due to the incessant groans and cries that filled the air, day and night. Furthermore, the lack of proper nourishment and the necessary care for those who were wounded exacerbated their suffering.

My little master, had you been there, you would have hardly provided them with jellies, restorative concoctions, broths, nourishing porridge, cleaned barley, tender meats, almond milk, prunes, raisins, and other suitable fare for the sick. Your intentions might well have been noted on paper, but in reality, they were left with little more than old, salted cow beef, procured near Hedin for our munitions, which was only half cooked. To consume it, one would have to tear at it with their teeth, much like scavenging birds devouring carrion.

I shall not forget the linen with which they were dressed, as it was washed each day and merely dried by the fire, rendering it dry and stiff like parchment. One can only imagine how their wounds could possibly heal under such conditions. There were four spirited whores tasked with the responsibility of laundering their linen, and they performed this duty under the threat of the batoon. They, too, were deprived of both soap and water. Consider, then, the tragic fate of the sick, who perished from a lack of nourishment and other essential care.

One day, our enemies pretended to initiate a general assault, intending to draw our soldiers to the breach and gauge our resolve and behavior. Everyone rushed to the area, as we had made considerable preparations of artificial fire to defend the breach. A priest belonging to Monsieur du Boüillon unwisely took hold of a grenade, intending to throw it at the enemy, but lit it prematurely. It exploded, scattering fire among our own ammunitions stored in a nearby building, which resulted in a disastrous outcome, as several of our poor soldiers were burned. The fire also spread to the building itself, and we would have all been consumed had it not been for the prompt assistance we received to extinguish the flames. Our castle had only one well, which was nearly dry, so instead of water, we used beer to put out the fire. Consequently, we faced a severe shortage of drinking water, and we had to strain the remaining supply through napkins to make it usable.

Now, the enemy, witnessing the smoke and tumult from our incendiary devices, which emitted a tremendous flame and a cacophony of noise, believed that we had intentionally set the fire to defend the breach and incinerate them, convincing themselves that we had ample supplies of such weaponry. This led them to reconsider their strategy, opting against a direct assault. Instead, they began to undermine our walls, digging deep into the structure, thereby seeking to topple the castle topsy turvy. Once their mines were completed, their artillery began to fire, causing the entire castle to tremble beneath us, reminiscent of an earthquake, which left us greatly alarmed. Additionally, they had positioned five pieces of artillery on a nearby hill, aimed to bombard us from behind while we were occupied defending the breach.

Duke Horace suffered a cannon shot that carried his arm in one direction and his body in the other. He could not even speak one word. His death was a great disaster to us, given the esteemed position he held in this place.

Similarly, Monsieur de Martigues was struck by a bullet that pierced his lungs. I treated his wounds, as I shall explain later. We then requested a parley, prompting a trumpet to be sent to the Prince of Piedmont to inquire about the terms he was willing to offer us. His response was that all the officers, including gentlemen, captains, lieutenants, and ensigns, would be held for ransom, while the soldiers could leave unarmed. He cautioned that if we refused this reasonable and honorable proffer, we could be assured that they would attack us by force the following day. 

A council was convened, and I was summoned to determine if I would agree, like several captains, gentlemen, and others, to surrender the fortress. My response was that the defense of the position was untenable, and I was prepared to sign the agreement with my own blood, due to the slim hope we had of withstanding the enemy’s force. Additionally, I had a desperate desire to escape this torment and hellish situation, as I had been unable to sleep, either day or night, due to the overwhelming number of wounded, which numbered around two hundred.

The accumulation of dead bodies, stacked upon one another like a woodpile and left uncovered due to the lack of earth, created a severe putrefaction. When I entered a room, soldiers awaited at the door to escort me to tend to others in different locations. As I moved about, there was a clamor for my attention, and they carried me from place to place, ensuring I barely touched the ground, each vying for my help over the other. Yet, it was impossible to tend to the vast number of injured adequately. I also lacked the necessary supplies for their treatment. Indeed, it is not only essential for the surgeon to fulfill his duties towards the patients, but also for the patients, the assistants, and all external factors to contribute effectively, as Hippocrates states in his first Aphorism.

Having learned about the surrender of our position, I realized that our situation was dire. To avoid recognition, I exchanged my velvet coat, satin doublet, and a fine cloth cloak lined with velvet for the worn attire of a soldier. He gave me a shabby, torn doublet, a well-worn leather jerkin, an unsightly hat, and a modest cloak. To further disguise myself, I darkened the collar of my shirt with water mixed with a bit of soot. I also deliberately wore down my stockings and shoes with a stone at the knees and heels to give them an appearance of long-term use. Thus altered, my appearance was more akin to that of a chimney sweep than that of the king’s surgeon.

I made my way to Monsieur de Martigues in this disguise, requesting that he allow me to stay close by to tend to his needs. To my relief, he agreed most readily and seemed just as eager for me to remain with him as I was to stay. Soon after, on the seventeenth of July, 1553, the commissioners responsible for selecting the prisoners arrived at the castle. They chose Monsieur le Duc de Bouillon, the Marquis de Villars, the Baron de Culan, Monsieur du Pont, the artillery commissioner, along with Monsieur de Martigues and myself, at his request. They also selected any other gentlemen they deemed capable of paying a ransom, as well as many soldiers and the leaders of the companies, amassing as many prisoners as they desired.

Afterward, the Spanish soldiers entered through the breach without any resistance. Our men believed they would honor their agreement to spare their lives. However, once inside, the Spanish erupted in a ferocious onslaught, intent on killing, looting, and pillaging all they could. Some soldiers, hoping to secure a ransom, tied their captives’ testicles with arquebus cords, draped over a pike carried by two men. They then yanked the cords violently and mockingly, as if ringing a bell, demanding the captives ransom themselves and reveal their households. If they saw no potential for profit, they brutally killed the captives either on the spot or after their genital areas became gangrenous and completely mortified. Ultimately, they killed all of them with their daggers, slashing their throats.

Observe now their dreadful cruelty and treachery—let those who wish to do so take their chances trusting it. To return to my narrative, as I was led from the castle to the city alongside Monsieur de Martigues, a gentleman in the service of the Duke of Savoy inquired whether Monsieur de Martigues’s wound was treatable. I replied that it was not. He promptly went to inform the Duke of Savoy. I anticipated that the Duke would dispatch physicians and surgeons to attend to Monsieur de Martigues.

In the meantime, I deliberated on whether I should keep my identity as a surgeon concealed for fear that they might compel me to treat their wounded and ultimately learn that I was the King’s surgeon, thus subjecting me to a hefty ransom. Conversely, I worried that if I did not reveal my identity and failed to tend to Monsieur de Martigues with care, they might sever my throat. Consequently, I resolved to demonstrate to them that he would not succumb for lack of proper care and attention.

Shortly thereafter, a number of gentlemen arrived, accompanied by the Emperor’s physician and surgeon, as well as those associated with the Duke of Savoy and six other surgeons from the army. They came to examine the wound of the said Lord of Martigues and to inquire about how I had treated it and which medicines I had used. The Emperor’s physician asked me to describe the nature of the wound and how I had managed it. Everyone present listened intently to determine whether the wound was fatal or not. I commenced my explanation by describing how Monsieur de Martigues, having peered over the wall to spot those undermining it, was struck by a shot from an arquebus that passed completely through his body. I was immediately summoned to attend to him, and upon my arrival, I observed him spitting blood from his mouth and from the wounds.

Furthermore, he experienced significant difficulty in breathing and expelled air through the wounds with a whistling sound, enough to blow out a candle. He reported a sharp, stabbing pain at the point of entry of the bullet. I suspect that there may have been small fragments of bone irritating the lungs. During his breathing cycle, I carefully inserted my finger into the wound, where I discovered that the bullet had fractured the fourth rib at its midpoint and had driven bone shards into the area. The exit wound had also broken the fifth rib, accompanied by pieces of bone forced from the inside outward. I managed to remove some of these fragments, but not all, as they were lodged deeply and tightly adhered.

I placed a tent into each wound, ensuring that the heads were large and secured with a thread to prevent them from being drawn into the thoracic cavity during inhalation. This is a known risk that can cause significant harm to the injured; should the tent become lodged inside, it is nearly impossible to retrieve, leading to putrefaction—a process contrary to nature. The tents were coated with a remedy made from egg yolks, Venetian turpentine, and a small amount of rose oil. My intention in using the tents was to stem the flow of blood and to ensure that no outside air could enter the chest cavity, which could have cooled the lungs and consequently affected the heart.

The tents were also positioned to facilitate drainage of blood that had accumulated within the thoracic cavity. I applied large plasters made of Diacalcitheos, which I softened with rose oil and vinegar to prevent inflammation. This was followed by the application of large stupes soaked in Oxycrate, and he was bandaged loosely to allow for comfortable breathing. Subsequently, I drew five porringers of blood from the basilic vein in the right arm, aiming to divert blood flow away from the injuries within the thorax. This decision was based on his youth, robust health, and primarily the situation of his injuries.

After these procedures, he had a bowel movement and expelled a significant amount of blood through both his stool and urine. The sharp pain he described at the bullet’s entry point was due to the movement of his lungs, which were pressing against the splinters from the fractured rib. The lungs are lined with a membrane called the pleura, woven with nerves, and the irritation of these nerves by the bone fragments caused him intense pain.

His breathing difficulties arose from multiple complications: the presence of spilled blood in the thoracic cavity, pressure on the diaphragm (which is crucial for respiration), tearing of the muscles between the ribs (which aid in breathing), and the direct damage to the lungs by the bullet, which has resulted in him coughing up black, putrid blood ever since the injury. Following the incident, he quickly developed a fever accompanied by episodes of fainting and swooning.

It appeared to me that the fever he was experiencing stemmed from the putrid vapors rising from the blood that had escaped from its proper vessels, blood that had seeped downwards and continued to do so. The wound in his lung had grown considerable and was likely to worsen, as the lung is in constant motion—whether during sleep or wakefulness—expanding and contracting to allow air to enter the heart and to expel harmful vapors. This unnatural heat led to inflammation, which in turn compelled the lungs to force out anything that irritated them through coughing. However, the act of coughing further aggravated the wound, causing it to expand and bleed profusely. The blood, drawn from the heart via the arterial vein for nourishment, returned to the heart through the vena cava.

His diet consisted of barley broth, stewed prunes, and occasionally a panado, while his drink was ptisan. He could only lie on his back, which indicated that a significant amount of blood had accumulated in the thoracic cavity, causing pressure. When the blood spread along the spine, it did not exert as much pressure on the lungs as it would if he were lying on his sides or sitting up.

What more can I express except that Lord Martigues, since sustaining his injury, has not rested even for a single hour and has continuously passed blood in both his urine and stools. Considering these conditions, gentlemen, one can only foresee that he will pass away within a few days, an outlook that deeply grieves me. After concluding my observations, I tended to him as I usually did. Upon examining his wounds, the physicians and other attendants immediately recognized the accuracy of my statements.

The physicians, having examined his pulse and recognized that his strength was nearly entirely depleted, came to the conclusion alongside me that he would not survive much longer. At that moment, they all proceeded to inform the Lord of Savoy, where they unanimously conveyed that Lord Martigues would soon perish. He replied that it might be possible for him to survive if he received adequate treatment. However, they all responded in unison, stating that he had been very well attended to, with all necessary measures taken for the healing of his wounds, and that nothing could be done more effectively. They insisted it was impossible to save him, affirming that his wound was, without a doubt, fatal.

Monsieur de Savoy was evidently deeply distressed and wept. He asked again if indeed they all considered the situation of the afflicted Lord as desperate and beyond remedy, to which they all responded affirmatively. At this point, a certain Spanish charlatan stepped forward, boldly promising to heal the Lord under the condition that should he fail, they were free to cut him into a hundred pieces; however, he stipulated that he would work without the involvement of other physicians, surgeons, or apothecaries.

Subsequently, the Lord of Savoy instructed the physicians and surgeons to cease their visits to Lord Martigues. He also sent a gentleman to me, commanding under threat of death that I no longer tend to the said Lord of Martigues—a directive I agreed to comply with. Relieved that his demise would not occur on my watch, I obeyed the orders and instructed the impostor to take over the care of Lord Martigues. It was also determined that no other physicians or surgeons but this charlatan were to attend to him; he promptly went to see the Lord of Martigues and said:

“Senor Cavallero el senor Dugue me ha mandado que viniesse a curar vostra herida, yo os juro á Dios que antes de acho dias yo os haga subir a Cavallo con la lansa en puno contalque no ago que yo qúos togue, Comereis y bibereis todas comidas que fueren de vostro gusto y yo hare la dieta pro V. m. y desto os de veu aseguirar sobre de mi, yo he sanado mun hos que tenian magores heridas que la Vostra.”

Translation: “Sir Knight, Señor Dugue has sent me to treat your wound. I swear to God that within a few days, I will have you mounted on horseback with your lance in hand, provided that I do not touch you. You will eat and drink anything you desire, and I will take care of your diet for you. You have my assurance on this matter; I have healed many who had worse wounds than yours.”

He asked the said Lord for a shirt, which he tore into small rags and used to bind a cross over the wound, muttering certain words as he worked. After dressing the wound, he permitted the Lord to eat and drink as he wished, informing him that he would maintain a restricted diet. The Lord adhered to this, consuming only six prunes and six pieces of bread at each meal, along with beer. However, just two days later, the Lord of Martigues passed away. Witnessing this, the Spaniard slipped away unnoticed, departing without saying farewell to anyone. I believe that had he been discovered, he would have faced execution for the false promises he had made to Monsieur the Duke of Savoy and several other gentlemen.

He passed away around ten o’clock in the morning. After lunch, the Lord of Savoy dispatched physicians, surgeons, and his apothecary, along with a considerable supply of drugs, to embalm him. They were accompanied by various gentlemen and captains of the army.

The Emperor’s surgeon approached me and kindly requested that I perform the autopsy, which I declined, saying I was not worthy to carry his plaster box. He urged me again, and out of respect for him, I agreed to do it if he wished. I attempted to excuse myself once more, suggesting that since he was not inclined to embalm the body, he might assign this task to another surgeon in the group. However, he insisted that I should be the one to do it, warning me that I might regret refusing in the future. Understanding his determination and fearing any repercussions, I took the razor and offered it to each individual present, stating that I was not adept at such procedures, but they all declined.

With the body laid out on the table, I intended to demonstrate my expertise as an anatomist. I began to explain various observations, though recounting them all here would be rather lengthy. I confidently informed the gathered company that the bullet had indeed fractured two ribs and had penetrated the lungs, emphasizing that they would discover the wound considerably enlarged. This was due to the constant motion of the body, whether in sleep or wakefulness, which had further exacerbated the injuries.

I also noted that there was a significant amount of blood within the chest cavity and on the diaphragm, along with splintered fragments of the broken ribs that had been driven inward at the point of entry of the bullet. These fragments had then been expelled upon exit. Remarkably, everything I had described was confirmed upon examination of the deceased’s body.

One of the physicians inquired about how blood could be expelled through urine when contained within the thorax. I explained to him that there exists a clear pathway, known as the Azygos vein, which nourishes the ribs. The remaining blood flows down beneath the diaphragm, joining on the left side with the renal vein. This is the route by which the fluids from pleurisy and empyema can be expelled through urine and stool.

I also referenced the phenomenon observed in women recently given birth, where the pure milk from their breasts travels via the mammary veins and is discharged downward through the cervix without mixing with the blood. This process occurs almost as if by a miraculous principle of nature, which is illustrated by an experiment using two glass vessels known as “Mount-wine.” When one vessel is filled with water and placed atop another filled with claret wine, one can clearly see the wine rise to the top of the upper vessel while the water descends through the wine and settles at the bottom of the lower vessel, all without any mixture occurring between the two.

If such a remarkable separation can be observed in non-living substances so clearly visible to our eyes, we must also acknowledge the capacity of nature to allow matter and blood to traverse from their vessels—even through bone—without becoming intertwined with the healthy blood.

After our conversation concluded, I embalmed the body and placed it in a coffin. Subsequently, the Emperor’s surgeon took me aside and expressed his desire for me to stay with him, promising I would be treated well, given new clothes, and granted the opportunity to ride on horseback. I graciously thanked him for the honor but conveyed that I had no intention of serving foreigners who were enemies to my homeland. In response, he called me a fool and insisted that if he were in my position, he would even serve the devil to secure his freedom. Ultimately, I made it clear that I had no intention of remaining with him at all.