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ST. GEORGE FOE ENGLAND:

A TALE OF
CEESSY AND POITIERS.

a A HENTY,

Aathor of ** With ai»e in India," " By Slieer Pluck," " Pacing Death,*
"Under brake's Flag,''&c

r/TH ZIQUT FULh-PAQB ILLUSTRATIOSS BY GORDON BROWITM.

«.*A

GLASGOW :
BLACKIE & SON, Limited.

TORONTO:
WILLIAM BRIGGS, 59-33 Richmond St. West.
Thb COPP, CLARK COMPANY, Limitkd, 9 Front St. West.

//^/v jy, G ^

Entered accordini; to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one
thousand eight hundred and ninety-six, by Blackie & Son, Limited, at th*
Department of Agriculture.

PREFACE.

My Dear Lads,

You may be told perhaps that there is no good
to be obtained from tales of fighting and bloodshed, — that
there is no moral to be drawn from such histories. Believe
it not. War has its lessons as well as Peace. You will
learn from tales like this that determination and enthusiasm
can accomplish marvels, that true courage is generally
accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness, and that if not
in itself the very highest of virtues, it is the parent of
almost all the others, since but few of them can be practised
without it The courage of our forefathers has created the
greatest empire in the world around a small and in itself
insignificant island; if this empire is ever lost, it will be by
the cowardice of their descendants.

At no period of her history did England stand so high in
the eyes of Europe as in the time whose events are recorded
in this volume. A chivalrous king and an even more
chivalrous prince had infected the whole people with their
martial spirit, and the result was that their armies were for
a time invincible, and the most astonishing successes were
gained against numbers which would appear overwhelming.
The victories of Cressy and Poitiers may be to some extent
accounted for by superior generalship and discipline on the

PKEFACE.

part of tlio con(]uerors; but this will not account for the
great naval victory over the Spanish llcot oil' the coast
of Sussex, a victory even more surprising and won against
greater odds than was that gained in the same waters cen-
turies later over the Spanish Armada. The historical facts
of the story are all drawn from Froissart and other contem-
porary historians, as collated and compared by Mr. James
in his carefully written history. They may therefore be
relied upon as accurate in every important particular.

Yours siucore]y,

G. A. HENTY.

CONTENTS.

Chap. P'S*

I. A WAYFARKn, 9

II. Tub Hut in tub Mahsiikh 24

III. A Thwautko Plot 40

IV. A Knight's Chain 66

V. Thk City Gamks 72

VI. The Mfti.tE, 87

VII. The Young KsyuiuE, 102

VIII. Okk to the Waus, 119

IX. The Sikoe ok Henxkih/N, 130

X. A Place ok liEi'uaE, 152

XI. A SrouMY Intkkview, 1(56

XII. Jacob van AnTEVELnw , 180

XIII. The White Ford 195

XIV. Cressy . 211

XV. The Siege of a Foktalick, 227

XVI, A PiuaoNEU 242

XVII. The Capture of Calais 258

XVIII. The Black Death 274

XIX. By Lanij anu Sea, 288

XX. Poitiers, 303

XXI. The JAcguEUiE, 318

XXII. Victory and Death, 335

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Attkjiptkd Absabsination ov Sik WALTEI^ . Frontispiece. 222

Waltkb in thb Akmoukru's Fobgk, 21

"Takk this Gagk as a IIewabd of roun Valouu," . . C3

The Citizens prepauk to depend IIennebon, IJU

Dame Alice bevealh Sib James's Villany, 172

"This is a Dungeon kop a Fef«n." iib exclaimed, . , 247

L\uv Edith's Last Effobt. 290

The End of a Becbbant Ksiqvou J47

ST. GEOEGE FOR ENGLAND.

CHAPTER I.

A WAYFARER.

was a bitterly cold night in the month of
November, 1330. The rain was pouring
heavily, when a woman, with a child in her
arms, entered the little village of South-
wark. She had evidently come from a
distance, for her dress was travel-stained and muddy.
She tottered rather than walked, and when, upon her
arrival at the gateway on the southern side of London
Bridge, she found that the hour was past and the
gates closed for the night, she leant against the wall
with a faint groan of exhaustion and disappointment.
After remaining, as if in doubt, for some time, she
feebly made her way into the village. Here were
many houses of entertainment, for travellers like her-
self often arrived too late to enter the gates, and had
to abide outside for the night. Moreover, house rent
was dear within the walls of the crowded city, and
many, whose business brought them to town, found it
cheaper to take up their abode in the quiet hostels of

AN APPEAL FOR SHELTER.

Southwark rather than to stay in the more expensive
inns within the walls. The lights came out brightly
from many of the casements, with sounds of boister-
ous songs and laughter. The woman passed these
without a pause. Presently she stopped before a
cottage, from which a feeble light alone showed that
it was tenanted.

She knocked at the door. It was opened by a plea-
sant-faced man of some thirty years old.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I am a wayfarer," the woman answered feebly.
"Canst take me and my child in for the night?"

"You have made a mistake," the man said; "this is
no inn. Further up the road there are plenty of
places where you can find such acconmiodation as you
lack."

"I have passed them," the woman said, "but all
seemed full of roisterers. I am wet and weary, and my
strength is nigh spent. I can pay thee, good fellow, and
I pray you as a Christian to let me come in and sleep
before your fire for the night. When the gates are
open in the morning I will go; for I have a friend
within the city who will, methinks, receive me."

The tone of voice, and the addressing of himself as
good fellow, at once convinced the man that the woman
before him was no common wayfarer.

"Come in," he said; "Geoffrey Ward is not a man to
shut his doors in a woman's face on a night like this,
nor does he need payment for such small hospitality.
Come hither, Madge!" he shouted; and at his voice a
woman came down from the upper chamber. " Sister,"
he said; "this is a wayfarer who needs shelter for the
night ; she is wet and weary. Do you take her up to
your room and lend her some dry clothing; then make

GOOD SAMARITANS.

her a cup of warm posset, which she needs sorely.
I will fetch an armful of fresh rushes from the shed
and strew them here: I will sleep in the smithy.
Quick, girl," he said sharply; "she is fainting with
cold and fatigue." And as he spoke he caught the
woman as she was about to fall, and laid her gently
on the ground. "She is of better station than she
seems." he said to his sister; " like enough some poor
lady whose husband has taken part in the troubles;
but that is no business of ours. Quick, Madge, and
get these wet things off her; she is soaked to the skin.
I will go round to the Green Dragon and will fetch a
cup of warm cordial, which I warrant me will put
fresh life into her."

So saying, he took down his flat cap from its peg on
the wall and went out, while his sister at once pro-
ceeded to remove the drenched garments and to rub
the cold hands of the guest until she recovered con-
sciousness. When Geoffrey Ward returned, the woman
was sitting in a settle by the fireside, dressed in a
warm woollen garment belonging to his sister. Madge
had thrown fresh wood on the fire, which was blazing
brightly now. The woman drank the steaming bever-
age which her host brought with him. The colour
came faintly again into her cheeks.

" I thank you, indeed," she said, " for your kindness.
Had you not taken me in I think I should have died
at your door, for indeed I could go no further; and
though I hold not to life, yet would I fain live until I
have delivered my boy into the hands of those who
will be kind to him, and this will, I trust, be to-morrow."

"Say nought about it," GeotTrey answered; " Madge
and I are right glad to have been of service to you.
It would be a poor world indeed if one could not

^ I

i I

MOTHER AND CHILD.

give a corner of one's fireside to a fellow- creature on
such a night as this, especially when that fellow-
creature is a woman with a child. Poor little chap ! he
looks right well and sturdy, and seems to have taken
no ill from his journey."

"Truly, he is well and sturdy," the mother said,
looking at him proudly ; " indeed I have been almost
wishing to-day that he were lighter by a few pounds,
for in truth I am not used to carry him far, and his
weight has sorely tried nie. His name is Walter, and
I trust," she added, looking at the powerful figure of
her host, "that he will grow up as straight and as
stalwart as yourself." The child, who was about
three years old, was indeed an exceedingly fine little
fellow, as he sat, in one scanty garment, in his mother's
lap, gazing with round eyes at the blazing fire; and
the smith thought how pretty a picture the child and
mother made. She was a fair, gentle-looking girl
some two - and - twenty years old, and it was easy
enough to see now from her delicate features and soft
shapely hands that she had never been accustomed to
toil.

"And now," the smith said, " I will e'en say good-
night. The hour is late, and I shall be having the watch
coming along to know why I keep a fire so long after
the curfew. Should you be a stranger in the city, I
will gladly act as your guide in the morning to the
friends whom you seek, that is, should they be known
to me; but if not, we shall doubtless find them without
difficulty."

So saying, the smith retired to his bed of rushes in
the smithy, and soon afterwards the tired visitor, with
her baby, lay down on the rushes in front of the fire,
for in those days none of the working or artisan class

GILES FLETCHER.

used beds, which were not indeed, for centuries after-
wards, in usage by the common people.

In the morning Geoffrey Ward found that his guest
desired to find one Giles Fletcher, a maker of bows. .

" 1 know him well," the smith said. " There are
many who do a larger business, and hold their heads
higher; but Giles Fletcher is well esteemed as a good
workman, whose wares can be depended upon. It is
often said of him that did he take less pains he would
thrive more; but he handles each bow that he makes
as if he loved it, and finishes and polishes each with
his own hand. Therefore he doeth not so much trade
as those who are less particular with their wares, for
he hath to charge a high price to be able to live. But
none who have ever bought his bows have regretted
the silver which they cost. Many and many a gross
of arrow-heads have I sold him, and he is well-nigh as
particular in their make as he is over the spring and
temper of his own bows. Many a friendly wrangle
have I had with him over their weight and finish, and
it is not many who find fault with my handiwork,
though I say it myself; and now, madam, I am at
your service."

During the night the wayfarer's clothes had been
dried. The cloak was of rough quality, such as might
have been used by a peasant woman; but the rest,
though of sombre colour, were of good material and
fashion. Seeing that her kind entertainers would be
hurt by the offer of money, the lady contented herself
with thanking Madge warmly, and saying that she
hoped to come across the bridge one day with Dame
Fletcher; then, under the guidance of Geoffrey, who
insisted on carrying the boy, she set out from the

smith's

cottage.

They passed under the outer gate

OLD LONDON BRIDGE.

and across the bridge, which later on was covered with
a double line of houses and shops, but was now a
narrow structure. Over the gateway across the river,
upon pikes, were a number of heads and human limbs.
The lady shuddered as she looked up.

" It is an ugly sight," the smith said, "and I can see
no warrant for such exposure of the dead. There
are the heads of Wallace, of three of Robert Bruce's
brothers, and of many other valiant Scotsmen who
fought against the king's grandfather some twenty
years back. But after all they fought for their country,
just as Harold and our ancestors against the Normans
under William, and I think it a foul shame that men
who have done no other harm should be beheaded,
still less that their heads and limbs should be stuck up
there gibbering at all passers-by. There are over a
score of them, and every fresh trouble adds to their
number; " but pardon me," he said suddenly as a sob
from the figure by his side called his attention from
the heads on the top of the gateway, " I am rough and
heedless in speech, as my sister Madge does often tell
me, and it may well be that I have said something
which wounded you."

"You meant no ill," the lady replied; "it was my
own thoughts and troubles which drew tears from me;
say not more about it, I pray you."

They passed under the gateway, with its ghastly
burden, and were soon in the crowded streets of Lon-
don. High overhead the houses extended, each story
advancing beyond that below it until the occupiers of
the attics could well-nigh shake hands across. They
soon left the more crowded streets, and turning to the
right, after ten minutes walking, the smith stopped in
front of a bowyer shop near Aklgate.

AN OLD FRIEND.

" This is the shop," he said, " and there is Giles
Fletcher himself trying the spring and pull of one of his
hows. Here 1 will leave you, and will one of these days
return to inquire if your health has taken ought of harm
by the rough buffeting of the storm of yester-even."

So saying he handed the child to its mother, and
I with a wave of the hand took his leave, not waiting to
I listen to the renewed thanks which his late guest en-
deavoured to give him.

The shop was open in front, a projecting penthouse
'sheltered it from the weather; two or three bows lay
upon a wide shelf in front, and several large sheaves
of arrows tied together stood by the wall. A powerful
man of some forty years old was standing in the middle
of the shop with a bent bow in his arm, taking aim at
a spot in the wall. Through an open door three men
could be seen in an inner workshop cutting and shap-
ing the wood for bows. The bowyer looked round as
his visitor entered the shop, and then, with a sudden
[exclamation, lowered the bow.

" Hush, Giles!" the lady exclaimed; "it is I, but name
10 names; it were best that none knew me here."

The craftsman closed the door of communication
Into the inner room. " My Lady Alice," he exclaimed
p a low tone, "you here, and in such a guise?"

"Surely it is I," the lady sighed, "although some-
|;imes I am well-nigh inclined to ask myself whether it
)e truly I or not, or whether this be not all a dreadful
Iream."

*I had heard but vaguely of your troubles," Giles
rietcher said, "but hoped that the rumours were false,
liver since the Duke of Kent was executed the air has
)een full of rumours. Then came news of the killing
)£ Mprtimer and of the imprisonment of the king's

A SAD STOIIY.

mother, and it was said that many who were thought
to be of her party had been attacked and slain, and I
heard — " and there he stopped.

" You heard rightly, good Giles, it is all true. A
week after the slaying of Mortimer a l)and of knights
and men-at-arms arrived at our castle and demanded
admittance in the king's name. Sir Roland refused,
for he had news that many were taking up arms, but
it was useless. The castle was attacked, and after
three days' lighting, was taken. Roland was killed,
and I was cast out with my child. Afterwards they
repented that they had let me go, and searched far
and wide for me; but I was hidden in the cottage of a
wood-cutter. They were too busy in hunting down
others whom they proclaimed to be enemies of the
king, as they had wrongfully said of Roland, who had
but done his duty faithfully to Queen Isabella, and
was assuredly no enemy of her son, although he might
well be opposed to the weak and indolent king, his
father. How^ever, when the search relaxed I borrowed
the cloak of the good man's wife and set out for Lon-
don, whither I have travelled on foot, believing that
you and Bertha would take me in and shelter me in
my great need."

"Ay, that will we willingly," Giles said. " Was not
Bertha your nurse? and to whom should you come if
not to her ? But will it please you to mount the stairs,
for Bertha will not forgive me if I keep you talking
down here. What a joy it will be to her to see you

asjjain !

So saying, Giles led the way to the apartment
above. There was a scream of surprise and joy from
his wife, and then Giles quietly withdrew down-staiis
again, leaving the women to cry in each other's arms.

( 261 )

A BROKEN-HEARTED LADY.

were thought
d slain, and I

5 all true. A
.nd of knights
and demanded
loland refused.
(t up arms, but
ked, and after
,nd was kilUMl
iterwards th('y
id searched far
the cottage of a
, hunting down
enemies of the
Roland, who had
jen Isabella, and
though he might

idolent king, his
axed I borrowed
set out for Lon-
t, believing that
,nd shelter me in

said. " Was not

^ould you come if

) mount the stairs,

keep you talking

to her to see you

to the apartment
)rise and joy fro"^
,hdrew down-staus
each other's arms.

(264)

A few days later Geoffrey Ward entered the shop of

iiles Fletcher.
" 1 huve brouglit you twenty score of arrow-heads,

faster Giles," he sai<l. "They have beei longer in

^and than is usual with nie, but 1 have been pressed.

ind how goes it with the lady whom 1 brought to your

loor last week?"
" But sadly, Master Ward, very sadly, as I told you

dien I came across to thank you again in her name
id my own for your kindness to her. She was but
poor plight after her journey; poor thing, she

^as little accustonied to such wet and hardship, and
)ubtless they took all the more efl'ect because she was
S|w in spirit and weakened with much grieving. That
Ight she was taken with a sort of fever, hot and cold
turns, and at times off her head. Since then she
Ls lain in a high fever and does not know even my
pfe; her thoughts ever go back to the storming of the
Vstle, and sho cries aloud and begs them to spare her
ird's life. It is pitiful to hear her. The leech gives
it small hope for her life, and in troth, Master Ward,
[ethinks that God would deal most gentlv with her
lerc he to take her. Her heart is already in her
isband's grave, for she was ever of a most loving
id faithful nature. Here there would be little
nfort for her — she would fret that her boy would
|ver inherit the lands of his father; and although she
lows well enough that she would be always welcome
|re, and that Bertha would serve her as gladly and
pthfully as ever she did when she was her nurse, yet
|e could not but greatly feel the change. She was
iderly brought up, being, as I told you last week,
[e only daughter of Sir Harold Broome. Her brother,
10 but a year ago became lord of Broomecastle at the

.204) b

THE CIIILUS KUTLUM

death of his father, was one of the queen's men, and it
was he, I believe, who brought Sir Holand Somers to
that side. He was slain on the same night as Mortimer,
Hiid his lands, like those of Sir Roland, have been soi/ed
by the crown. The child upstairs is by right heir to
both estates, seeing that his uncle died unmarried.
They will doubtless bo conferred upon those who havn
aided the young king in freeing himself fiom his
mother's domination, for which, indeed although 1
lament that Lady Alice should have suti'ered so sorely
in the doing of it, I blame him not at all. He is a
noble prince and will make us a great king, and the
doings of his mother have been a shame to us all.
However, I meddle not in politics. If the poor lady
dies, as methinks is well-nigh certain. Bertha and I
will bring up the boy as our own. I have talked it
over with my wife, and so far she and I are not of one
mind. I think it will be best to keep him in ignorance
of his birth and lineage, since the knowledge cannot
benetit him, and will but render him discontented with
his lot and make him disinclined to take to my calling,
in which he might otherwise earn a living and rise to
be a respected citizen. But Bertha hatVi notions. You
have not taken a wife to yourself, Master Geoti'rey, or
you would know that women oft have fancies which
wander widely from hard facts, and she says she
would have him brought up as a man-at-arms, so that
he may do valiant deeds, and win back some day thu
title and honour of his family."

Geoffrey Ward laughed. " Trust a woman for being
romantic," he said. " However, Master Fletcher, you
need not for the present trouble about the child's
calling, even should its mother die. At anyrate,
whether he follows your trade, or whether the blood

RUMOURS OP WAR.

lether tho blooi;

in his veins leads him to take to marti/J fleeds, tlie
knowledge of arms may well be of use lo him, and I
promise you that such skill as I have I will teach him
when he jirows old enou'di to wield sword and battle-

I axe. As you know I may, without boasting, say
'that he could scarce have a better master, seeing that

I I have for three years carried away the prize for the
best sword-player at the sports. Methinks the boy
Will grow up into a strong and stalwart man, for he is

Itruly a splendid lad. As to archery, he need not go

|far to learn it, since your apprentice, Will Parker,

last year won the prize as the best marksman in

the city bounds. Trust me, if his tastes lie that

iray we will between us turn him out a rare man-at-

irins. But I must stand gossiping no longer; the

fumours that we are likely ere long to have war with

'i-ance, have rarely bettered my trade. Since the

i^ars in Scotland men's arms have rusted somewhat,

[and my two men are hard at work mending armour

[and fitting swords to hilts, and forging piko-heads.

[You see 1 atr« a citizen though I dwell outside the

(bounds, because house rent is cheaper and I get

my charcoal without paying the city dues. So I can

^'ork somewhat lower than those in the walls, and I

mve good custom from many in Kent, who know that

ly arms are of as good temper as those turned out by

my craftsman in the city."

Giles Fletcher's anticipations as to the result of his

[guest's illness turned out to be well founded. The

fever alated, but left her prostrate in strength. For a

few weeks she lingered; but she seemed to have little

lold of life, and to care not whether she lived or died.

^o, gradually she faded away.

"I know you will take care of my boy as if he were

A MOTIIKUH LAST lUilQUEST.

your own, Bortlia," she said one day; "and you and
your husband will be far better protectors for him
than I shouhl have been had I lived. Teach him to
be honest and true. It weie btitter, nietliird-cs, that
he grew up thinking you his father and mother, for
otherwise he may grow discontented with his lot; but
this I leave with you, and you must apeak or keep
silent according as you see his disposition and mind.
If he is content to settle down to a peaceful life here,
say nought to hiui which would unsettle his mind;
but if Walter turn out to have an adventurous dis
position, then tell him as much as 3'ou think tit of \\\x
history, not encouraiiing him to hope to recover his
father's lands and mine, for that can never be, seeiiij^
that before that time can come they would have been
enjoyed for many years by others; but that he may
learn to bear himself bravely and gently as becomes
one of good blood."

A few days later Lady Alice breathed her last, and
at her own request was buried quietly and without
pomp, as if she had been a child of the bowman, a
plain stone with the name " Dame Alice Somers,"
marking the grave.

The boy grew and throve until at fourteen years
old there was no stronnjer or sturdier lad of his aoe
within the city bounds. Giles had caused him to be
taught to read and write, accomplishments which weio
common among the citizens, although they were until
long afterwards rare among the warlike barons. The
greater part of his time, liowever, was spent in sports
with lads of his own age in Moorfields beyond the
walls. The war with France was now raging, and as
was natural, the boys in their games imitated the doings
of their elders, and mimic battles, ofttimes grow-

; "and you and

tcctors for him

Teaeli liim to

nu'tliirdvH, that
and mother, for
vith his lot; but

speak or keep
iition and mind,
aceful hfe lien-,
settle his mind;
adventurous dis

think tit of Iun
3 to recover his
never be, .seeinj^
r^ould liave been
lut that he may
ntly as becomes

ed her last, and

tly and without

the bowman, a

Alice Somers,"

; fourteen year."
r lad of his age
lused him to be
ents which wero

they were until
ke barons. The
5 spent in sports
elds beyond the
V racking, and as
itated the doings

ofttimes grow-

jti ^gig ymi ;

: 1^

ill!
Hi it

,1 i i

nil!

204

WALTER IN THE ARMOURER's FORCF..

WALTER'S TRAINING.

iM!^ into cai-nest, were fought between tlie lads of the
[(liHeront wards. Walter Fletcher, as he was known
iHiiumg his play-fellows, had by his strength and cour-
lago won for himself the proud position of captain of
[the buys of the ward of Aldgate.

Cieolfrey Ward had kej)t his word, and had ah'eady
l)(!'nm to jiive the lad lessons in the use of arms. When
iiot eniLjai'ed" otherwise Walter would, almost every
rternoon, cross London Bridge and would spend hours
|iii the armourer's forge. GeolFrey's business had grown,
['or the war had caused a great demand for arms, and
10 had now six men working in the forge. As soon as
Ihe boy could handle a light tool GeolIVey allowed him
[o work, and although not able to wield the heavy
lledge Walter was able to do much of the finer work.
JeoU'rcy encouraged him in this, as, in the first place,
[he use of the tools greatly strengthened the boy's
nuscles, and gave him an acquaintance with arms.
Moi-eover, Geofi'rey was still a bachelor, and he thought
^hat the boy, whom he as well as Giles had come to
love as a son, might, should he not take up the trade
l>f war, prefer the occupation of an armourer to that
►f a bowmaker, in which case he would take him
loiiie day as his partner in the forge. After work was
jver and the men had gone away Gcoftrey would
[ive the lad instructions in the use of the arms at
diieh he had been at work, and so quick and strong
;as he that he rapidly acquired their u.se, and Geof-
Irey foresaw that he would one day, should his thoughts
lurn that way, prove a mighty man-at-arms.

It was the knowledge which he acquired from Geof-
frey which had much to do with Walter's positiijn
liiiong his comrades. Tlu; skill and strength which he
|iad ac(|uired in wielding the hannner, and by practice

'' M-

THE LADS OF THE CITY.

with the sword rendered him a formidable opponent
with the sticks, wliich formed the weapons in the
mimic battles, and indeed not a few weie the com-
plaints which were brought before Giles Fletcher of
bruises and hurts caused by him.

"You are too turbulent, Walter," the bowyer said
one day when a haberdasher from the ward of Alders-
gate came to complain that his son's head had been
badly cut by a blow with a club from Walter Fletcher.
'* You are always getting into trouble, and are becom-
ing the terror of other boys. Why do you not play
more quietly? The feuds between the boys of ditler-
ent wards are becoming a serious nuisance, and many
injuries have been inflicted. 1 hear that the mat-
ter has been mentioned in the Common Council, and
that there is a talk of issuing an order that no boy
not yet apprenticed to a trade shall be allowed to cany
a club, and that any found doing so shall be publicly
whipped."

" I don't want to be turbulent," Walter said; "but if
the Aldersgatc boys will defy us, what are we to do?
I don't hit harder than I can help, and if Jonah Harris
would leave his head unguarded I could not help hit-
ting it."

"1 tell you it won't do, Walter," Giles said. "You will
be getting yourself into sore trouble. You are growin*;
too masterful altogether, and have none of the quiet
demeanour and peaceful air which becomes an honest
citizen. In another six months you will be apprenticed,
and then I hope we shall hear no more of these
doings."

" My father is talking of apprenticing me, Master
Geoffrey," Walter said that evening. "1 hope that you
will, as you were good enough to promise, talk with

ii^

WALTERS CHOICE.

him about apprenticing me to your craft rather than
to his. 1 should never take to the making of bows,
though, indeed, 1 like well to use them; and Will Parker,
who is teaching me, says tliat I show rare promise;
but it would never be to my taste to stand all day saw- .
ing, and smoothing, and polishing. One bow is to me
much like another, though my father holds that there
are rare ditlerences between them; but it is a nobler
craft to work on iron, and next to using arms the most
pleasant thing surely is to make them. One can fancy
what iiood blows the sword will give and what hard
[knocks the armour will turn aside; but some day. Mas-
ter Geoffrey, when I have served my time, I mean to
follow the army. There is always work there for
armourers to do, and sometimes at a pinch they may
even get their share of fighting."

Walter did not venture to say that he would prefer
to be a man-at-arms, for such a sentiment would bo
deemed as outrageous in the ears of a quiet city crafts-
man as would the proposal of the son of such a man
nowadays to enlist as a soldier. The armourer smiled ;
he knew well enough what was in Walter's mind. It had
cost Geoffrey himself a hard struggle to settle down to
a craft, and he deemed it but natural that with the
knightly blood flowing in Walter's veins he should long
to distinguish himself in the field. He said nothing of
this, however, but renewed his promise to speak to
Giles Fletcher, deeming that a few years passed in his
forge would be the best preparation which Walter could
hdve for a career as a soldier.

ijil ■

CHAPTER 11.

1 ; ■

THE HUT IN THE MARSHES.

WEEK later a party of kniohts and court
gallants, riding across the fields without tho
walls, checked their horses to look at a
struggle which was going on between two
parties of boys. One, which was apparently
the most powerful, had driven the other off from a heap
of rubbish which had been carried without the walls.
Each party had a flag attached to a stick, and the boys
were armed with clubs such as those carried by the
apprentice boys. Many of them carried mimic shields
made of wood, and had stuffed their flat caps with wool
or shavings, the better to protect their heads from blows.
The smaller party had just been driven from the hea]),
and their leader was urginjj them to make another
effort to regain it.

" That is a gallant-iooking lad, and a sturdy, my Lord
de Vaux," a boy of about ten years of age said. " IN.'
bears himself like a young knighf, and he has had soinc
hard knocks, for, see, the blood is streaming down his
face. One would scarcely expect to see these varlets of
the city playing so roughly."

"The citizens have pi'oved themselves sturdy fighter-
before now, my prince," the other said; " they are ever

A MIMIC BATTLE.

■ V

vhts and court
ids without the

to look at a
Q between two
was apparently
otF from a heap
^hout the walls,
k, and the boys

carried by the
d niiuiic shields

caps with wool
;ads from blows.

from the hea]i,

make another

sturdy, my Lord
ao'e said. i it
lehashad soini'

aming down his
these varlets i)t'

i sturdy iightor-
" they are evci'

independent, and hold to their rights even against the
:in"'. The continirent which the city sends to the wars
jears itself as well as those of any of the barons."

"See!" the boy interrupted, "they are going to charge

vmm. Their leader has himself seized the flag and has

iwung his shield behind him, just as a knight might do

|f leading the storniers against a place of strength. Let

IS stop till we see tlie end of it."

With a shout of " Aldgate! Aldgate!" the leader of
Ihe assailants dashed forward, followed by his corn-
fades, and with a rush reached the top of the heap.

" Well done!" the young prince exclaimed, clapping

His hands. "See how he lays about him with that club

|f his. There, he has knocked down the leader of the

lei'enders as if his club had been a battle-axe. Well

poue, young sir, well done! But his followers waver.

Phe others are too strong for them. Stand, you cowards,

dly round your leader! "and in his enthusiasm the

|roung prince urged his horse forward to the scene of

fouflict.

But the assailants were mastered; few of them could
kin the top of the heap, and those who did so were
leaten back from it by the defenders. Heavy blows
^ere exchanged, and blood flowed freely from many of
Kiir heads and faces, for in those da\s boys thought
^ss than they do now of hard knocks, and manliness
nd courage were considered the first of virtues. Their
Sader, however, still stood his ground on the crest,
|iough hardly pressed on all sides, and used his club
)th to strike and parry with a skill which ai'oused
le warmest admiration on the part of the prince. In
lain his followers attempted to come to his rescue;
Jach time they struggled up the heap they were beaten
ick again by those on the crest.

THE LEADEIl OF THE ASSAULT.

I'll

!'i;

" Yield thee prisoner," the assailants of their leader
shouted, and the prince in his excitement echoed the
cry. The lad, however, heard or heeded them not. He
still kept his Hag aloft in his left hand. With a sudden
spring he struck down one of his opponents, plucked
up their Hag from the ground, and then fought his way
back through his foes to the edge of the battle ground;
then a heavy blow struck him on the temple, and, still
holding the HaLTS, he rolled senseless to the foot of the
heap. The defenders with shouts of triumph were
rushing down when the prince urged his horse forward.

"Cease!" he said authoritatively. "Enough has been
done, my young masters, and the sport is becoming a
broil."

Hitherto the lads, absorbed in their strife, had paid
but little heed to the party of onlookers; but at the
word they at once arrested their arms, and, baring their
heads, stood still in confusion.

"No harm is done," the prince said, "though your
sport is of the roughest; but I fear that your leader is
hurt, he moves not; lift his head from the ground."
The boy was indeed still insensible. " My lords," the
prince said to the knights who had now ridden up, "1
fear that this boy is badly hurt; he is a gallant lad, and
has the spirit of a true knight in him, citizen's son
though he be. My Lord de Vaux, will you bid your
squire ride at full speed to the Tower and tell Master
Roger, the leech, to come here with all haste, and to
bring such nostrums as may be needful for restoriii;.'
the boy to life."

The Tower was but half a mile distant, but
Master Roger arrived Walter had already recovenil
consciousness, and was iust sitting up when the leecli
hurried up to the spot.

before

th(

THE PRINCE OF WALKS.

of their leader
ent echoed the
i them not. He

With a sudden
loneiits, plucked

fought his way
3 battle ground;
,cuiple, and, still
) the foot of the
i triumph were
is horse forward,
enough has been
vt is becoming a

: strife, had paid

)kers; but at the

and, baring their

id, " though your
iiat your leader is
:om the ground."

" My lords," the
low ridden up, " 1
a gallant lad, and
him, citizen's son
vill you bid your
;r and tell Master

all haste, and to
idful for restoring

listant, but before
already recovon'!
ip when the leccl

"You have arrived too late. Master Roger," the prince
jkaid; "but I doubt not that a dose of your cordials may
et be of use, for he is still dazed, and the blow he got
ould have cracked his skull had it been a thin one."
The leech poured some cordial from a vial into a
mall silver cup and held it to the boy's lips. It was
otent and nigh took his breath away; but when he had
runk it he struggled to his feet, looking ashamed and
onfused when he saw himself the centre of attention
|>f so many knights of the court.

" What is thy name, good lad?" the prince asked.
" I am known as Walter Fletcher."
" You are a brave lad," the prince said, " and if you
ar you as well as a man as you did but now, I would
ish no better to ride beside me in the day of battle,
hould the time ever come when you tire of the peace-
Ible life of a citizen and wish to take service in the
ars, go to the Tower and ask boldly for the Prince of
ales, and I will enroll you among my own men-at-
|krms, and I promise you that you shall have your share
f fighting as stark tis that of the assault of yon heap,
ow, my lords, let us ride on; I crave your pardon for
aving so long detained you."
Walter was some days before he could again cross
ondon Bridge to inform his friend Geoffrey of the
onour which had befallen him of being addressed by
e Prince of Wales. During the interval he was forced
lie abed, and he was soundly rated by Master Giles
r again getting into mischief. GeolTrey was far more
mpathctic, and said, "Well, Walter, although I would
ot that Gaffer Giles heard me say so, I think you have
ad a piece of rare good fortune. It may be that you
ay never have cause to recall the young prince's pro-
ise to him ; but should you some day decide to embrace

'ic

! !li

|i!i

WALTER INDKNTUIJKD.

I'll!

tlie calling of arms, you could wish for notliing better
than to ride behind the Prince of Wales. He is, by ull
accounts, of a most nohle and generous dispositi(jn, and
is said, yonng as he is, to be already highly skilled in
arms. Men say that he will be a wise king and a gal-
lant captain, such a one as a brave soldier might b(3
proud to follow; and as the king will be sure to give
him plenty of opportunities of distinguishing himself,
those who ride with him may be certain of a chance of
doinuc valorous deeds. I will <xo across the bridy;e tu-
morrow, and will have a talk with Master Fleccher.
The sooner you are apprenticed, the sooner you will he
out of your time; and since Madge married eight years
since I have been lonely in the house and shall be glad
to have you with me."

Gcotlrey Ward found his friend more ready to accede
to his reijuest, that Walter should be apprenticed to
him, tlian he had expected. The bowyer, indeed, was
a quiet man, and the high spirits and somewhat tur-
bulent disposition of his young charge gave him so
much uneasiness, that he was not sorry the responsibil-
ity of keeping him in order should be undertaken by
(Jeoti'rey. Moreover, he could not but agree with the
argument, that the promise of the Prince of Wales
oUered a more favourable opportunity for Walter to
enter upon the career of arms, and so, perhaps, some
day to win his way back to rank and honours, than
could have b(;en looked for. Therefore, on the follow-
inir week Walter was indentured to the armourer, ami
as was usual at the time, left his abode in Aldijate ami
took up his residence with his master. He threw him-
self with his whole heart into the work, and by tlie
time he was fifteen was on the way to become a
skilful craftsman. His frame and muscles developcil

1S1>1

UK LHAUNS TIIH USR UK AIIMS.

nothing bettor
. lie is, by all
lisposition, aiul
ghly skilled in
king and a gal-
)ldier migkt be
be sure to give
lishing himself,
n of a chance of
s the bridge tu-
'^laster Fletcher,
oner you will lie
rried eight years
md shall be glad

■e ready to accede
e apprenticed to
vyer, indeed, was
d somewhat tur-
,rge gave him so
■y the responsibil-
be undertaken by
ut agree with the
Prince of Wales
ity for Walter to
so, perhaps, some
ind honours, than
ore, on the follow-
the armourer, an<l
)de in Aldgate and
r. He threw hiui-
work, and by the
way to become a
muscles developed

jvvith labour, and he was now able to swing all save
jtlie very heaviest hammers in the shop. He had never
[aliuted in his practice at arms, and every day when
[woik was over, he and his master had a long bout
-Ciller with cudgel or (pmrter-statr, sword or axe;.
Walter of course used light weapons, but so quick waa
16 with them that Geotlrey Ward acknowledged that
le needed to put out all his skill to hold Ids own
'ith his pupil. But it was not alone with Geoffrey
khat Walter had an opportunity of learning the use of
\rnis. Whenever a soldiei", returned from the wars,
ime to have a weapon repaired by the armourer, he
muld be sure of an invitation to come in in the even-
ig and take a stoup of ale, and tell of the battles and
ieges he had gone through, and in the course of the
^ening would be asked to have a bout of arms with
le young apprentice, whom Geoffrey represented as
jeing eager to learn how to use the sword as well as
low to make it.

Thus Walter became accustomed to different styles
If fighting, but found that very few, indeed, of their
Hsitors w^ere nearly so well skilled with their arms as
[is master. Some of the soldiers were mortitied at
iding themselves unable to hold their own with a
:>}'; others would take their reverses in good part and
^otdd come again, bringing with them some comrade
lown to be particularly skilled with his weapons, to
\y the temper of the armourer's apprentice. At the
le of fifteen Walter had won the prize at the sports,
)th for the best cudgel play and for the best sword-
id-huckler play among the apprentices, to the great
^sgust of many who had almost reached the age of
pidiood and were just out of their time.
On Sundays Walter always spent the day with Giles

!i "rm

DISIiANDKn SOLDIEUS.

' I

!Mi!

Hfli

! i

Fletcher and liis wife, poing to mass with them aiio
walking in the fiokls, where, after service, the citixeii.s
much congregated. Since Walter had gone to work
he had taken no part in the tights and frolics of liis
former comrades; he was, in fact, far too tired at the
end of his day's work to have any desire to do aught
hut to sit and listen to the tales of the wars, of the
many old soldiers who pervaded the country. Soiiu;
of these men were disabled by wounds or long service,
but the greater portion were idle scamps, who caret I
not for the hard blows and sutierings of a campaign,
liking better to hang about taverns drinking, at th((
expense of those to whom they related fabulous talcs
of the gallant actions they had performed. Many, too,
wandered over the country, sometimes in twos or
thr'^es, sometimes in larger bands, robbing and often
murdering travellers or attacking lonely houses. When
in one part or another their ill deeds became too noto-
rious, the sheritls would call out a posse of men and
they would be hunted down like wild beasts. It w.is
not, however, easy to catch thetn, for great tracts of
forests still covered a large portion of the country and
afforded them shelter.

In the country round London these pests were very
numerous, for here, more than anywhere else, wus
there a chance of plunder. The swamps on the soutli
side of the river had especially evil reputation. From
Southwark to Putney stretched a marshy country over
which, at high tides, the river frequently flowed,
Here and there were wretched huts, diflicult of access
and affording good hiding-places for those pursued
by justice, since searchers could be seen approach ini,'
a long way off, and escape could be made by paths
across the swamp known only to the dwellers theio,

TURBULENT IDLKRS.

ilh thorn alio
0, the citi/.cnh
i;one to work
"frolics of Vus
tired at the
re to do aught
e wars, of the
)untry. Soine
)r long service,
lips, who curtil
of a campaign,
rinking, at the
fabulous tales
ed. Many, too,
OS in twos or
hing and often
r houses. When
ccanic too noto-
^sse of men and
beasts. It wiis
great tracts of
the country an<l

pests were very
vhere else, wus
IS on the south
utation. ¥ro\\\
hy country over
quently llowed.
itlicult of access

those pursued
een approachini;

made by paths
5 dwellers theru,

jiind wliere heavily armed men dared not follow. Further
Isuuth, ill the wild country rouinl W<!sterliain, where
|iiiiles of heath and forest stretched away in all direc-
tions, was another noted place where the robber va-
LMunts mustered thickly, and the Sheriff of Kent had
Inuch troul)l(^ with them.

The laws in those days were extremely severe, and
leath was the ptiiialty of those canglit plundering,
^'he extreme severity of the laws, however, operated in
favour of its breakers, since the sympathy of the people
fvho had little to lose was with them, and unless
u:ght red-handed in the act they could generally
jcape, since none save those who had themselves been
|obbed would say aught that would place the pursuers
their traces, or give testimony which would cost the
lie of a fellow-creature. The citizens of London were
)ud in their complaints against the discharged soldiers,
)r it was upon them that the loss mainly fell, and it
ras on their petitions to the king that the sheriffs of
fliddlesex and Hertford, Kssex, Surrey, and Kent,
llrere generally stirred up to put down the ill-doers.
i Sometimes these hunts were conducted in a whole-
lie way, and the whole posse of a county would be
tiled out. Then all found within its limits who had
)t land or visible occupation were collected. Any
!;ainst whom charges could be brought home were
mg without more ado, and the rest were put on board
lip and sent across the sea to the army. Sometimes,
[hen they found the country becoming too hot for
iem, these men would take service with some knijiht
noble going to the war, anxious to take with him as
|rong a following as might be, and not too particular
to the character of his soldiers.
Walter, being of an adventurous spirit, was some-

ri ;

TIIK SWAMPS OK LAMIiKTII.

•1 I

'Mllli

^Im

lli!

, 'I

'If

i : ;i

times wont of a summer ovonin^, when liis work wns
(lone, to waiuler across the niar.slu's, takiiii;' with him
his how and arrows, ami often hrin^inj,' home a wil<l
(hick or two which lie had shot in the pools. Aloro
than once surly men had accosted him, and huii
threatemul to knock him on head it" they a^ain I'ouiid
him wandering that way; hut Walter lau^iusd at their
threats, and seeing, that though but an apprentice lad,
he might be able to send an arrow as straight to tlic
mark as another, they were content to leave him alone,

One day when he was well-nigh in the heart of tln'
swamp of Lambeth h(; saw a figure making his way
across. The hour was already late and the night was
falling, and the appearance of the man was so ditruiiiit
from that of the usual dcni/ens of the swamp that
Walter wondered what his business there might Iw.
Scarcely knowing why he did so, Walter threw himself
down among some low brushwood and watched the
approaching figure. When he came near he recognized
the face, and saw, to his surprise, that it was a kniglit
who had but the day before stoppe . .it the armourci '•>
shop to have two rivets put in his hauberk. He had
particularly noticed him, because of the arrogiuit
manner in which he spoke. Walter had himself }iiit
in the rivets, and had thought, as he buckled on the
armour again, how unpleasant a countenance was that
of its wearer. He was a tall and powerful man, aivi
would have been handsome had not his eyes been ton
closely set together; his nose was narrow, and the ex-
pression of his face reminded Walter of a hawk. 11'
had now laid aside his helmet, and his figure wa-
covered with a long cloak.

"He is up to no good," Walter said to himself, "fn:
what dealings could a knight honestly have with tlu

A MYSTEIIIOUS MEKTINO.

I his work wiis
.kin^' with liim
iig iiome a wil'l
u! puols. ^lore
him, a!\(l \w\ '
hey iipiiii t'ouii'l
hiuj^lii'd at thi'ir
a apprentice lad,
i strui^^ht to tilt' :
leave liim alotic
the heart of tin'
makiii;^ his way
1(1 the ni^ht \va>
1 was so ditlerent
the swamp that
there might V)f
ter threw himself
and watched tin;
icar he recogni/ed
t it was a knight
,i,i the armoure.'^
iiuberk. He hn'.
of the arrogiviit
had himself put
e buckled on tbf
itenance was that
awerful man, aii'i
his eyes been tO''
■row, and the es-
of a hawk. H'
d his figure wa-

r\ to himself, "f<'i'
tly have with tlu

;

ruffians who haunt these swamps. It is assuredly no
)usinoHS of mine, but it may lead to an adventure, and
have had no real fun since 1 loft Aldgate. I will fol-
low and .see if 1 can get to the bottom of the mystery."

When he caine close to the spot where Walter was
ring the knight paused and looked round as if un-
jrtain of his way. For four or five miinites he stood
till, and then gave a shout of "Humphrey" at the top

his voice. It was answered by a distant "Hallo!"
id looking in the direction from which the answer
id come, Walter saw a figure appear above some
ishes some four hundred yards distant The knight

once directed his steps in that direction, and Walter
l^ept cautiously after him.

"A pest upon these swamps and quagmires," the

light said angrily as he neared the other. " Why didst
[)t meet me and show me the way through, as before?"

"I thought that as you had come once you wouM

able to find your way hither again," the man said.

lad I thought that you would have missed it I would
ive come ten times as far, rather than have had my
l,me shouted all over the country. However, there

no one to hear, did you shout thrice as loud, so no
irm is done."
["I thought I saw a figure a short time since," the

light said.

Ihe man looked round in all directions,
rl see none," he said, "and you may have been mis-

:en, for the light is waning fast. It were ill for
[yone I caught prying al'out here. But come in, sir

light; my hovel is not what your lordship is accns-

ned to, but we may as well talk there as here be-

ith the sky."
|The two men disappeared from W^alter's sight. The

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THE HUT IN THE SWAMP.

latter in much surprise crept forward, but until he
reached the spot where he had last seen the speakertj
he was unable to account for their disappearance.
Then he saw that the spot, although apparently a mere
clump of bushes no higher than the surrounding coun-
try, was really an elevated hummock of ground. Any
one might have passed close to the bushes without sus-
pecting that aught lay among them. In the centre,
however, the ground had been cut away, and a low
doorway, almost hidden by the bushes, gave access into
a half subterranean hut; the roof was formed of an
old boat turned bottom upwards, and this had been
covered with brown turf. It was an excellent place
of concealment, as searchers might have passed within
a foot of the bushes without suspecting that aught lay
concealed within them.

"A clever hiding-place," Walter thought to himself.
"No wonder the posse search these swamps in vain.
This is the lowest and wettest part of the swamp, and
would be but lightly searched, for none would suspect
that there was a human habitation among these brown
ditches and stagnant pools."

To his disappointment the lad could hear nothing of
the conversation which was going on within the hut.
The murmur of voices came to his ear, but no words
were audible; however, he remained patiently, thinking
that perhaps as they came out a v/ord might be said
which would give him a clue to the object of the mys-
terious interview between a knight and one who was
evidently a fugitive from justice.

His patience was rewarded. In the half hour which
he waited the night had fallen, and a thick fqg which
was rising over the swamps rendered it difficult to dis-
cern anything at the distance of a few paces.

A COMPACT.

"You are quite sure tlmt you can manage it?" a
voice said as tlie two men issued iiom the Imt.

"There is no diflicult^'^ in managing it," the othor
replied, "if the boat is punctual to the hour named.
It will be jrettinfj dusk then, and it' one boat runs into
another no one need be surprised. Such accidents will
happen."

"They will be here just before nightfall," the other
[said, "and you will know the boat by the white mantle
Ithe lady will wear. The reward will be tifty pieces
[of gold, of which jou have received ten as earnest.
IYou can trust me, and if the job be well done 1 shall
[take no count of the earnest money."

"You may consider it as good as done," the othei*
replied. "If the boat is there the matter is settled.
S'ow I will lead you back across the swamps. I would
lot give much for your life if you tried to find the
vay alone. Who would have thought when you got
Hie off from being hung, after that little atlair at
h'uges, that I should be able to make myself useful
to your worship?"

"You may be sure," the knight replied, "that it was
lust because I foresaw that you might be useful that I
jpened the doors of your cell that night. It is always
pandy in times like these to be able to lay one's hand on

man whom you can hang if you choose to open your

louth."

"Did it not .strike you, sir knight, that it might

iter my mind that it would be very advisable for me
free myself from one who stands towards me in that

jlation?"

"Certainly it did," the knight replied; "but as I
lappcn to be able to make it for your interest to serve
le, that matter did not trouble me. I knew better

';'

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tl- hi;'. ■-

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ih''i!i!iii

rOLLOWINO BY EAR.

than to bring money into this swamp of yours, when
I might be attacked by half a dozen ruffians like your-
self; and I took the precaution of informing Peter, the
captain of my men-at-arms, of the spot to which I was
going, bidding him, in case I came not back, to set a
hue and cry on foot and hunt down all who might be
found here, with the especial description of your
worthy self."

Walter could hear no more; he had taken off his
shoes and followed them at a distance, and their voices
still acted as a guide to him through the swamp. But
he feared to keep too close, as, although the darkness
wc lid conceal his figure, he might at any moment
tread in a pool or ditch, and so betray his presence.
Putting his foot each time to the ground with the
greatest caution, he moved quietly after them. They
Bpoke little more, but their heavy footsteps on the
swampy ground were a sufficient guidance for him.
At last the.se ceased suddenly. A few words wero
spoken, and then he heard returning steps. He drew
aside a few feet and crouched down, saw a dim figure
pass through the mist, and then resumed his way.

The ground wss firmer now, and, replacing his shoes,
he walked briskly on. As he neared the higher
ground along which the road ran he heard two horse-
men galloping away in the distance. He now turned
his face east, and after an hour's walking he reached
the armourer's.

" Why, Walter, you are late," the smith said. " Tlie
men are in bed this hour or more, and I myself can
Boarce keep awake. Where hast thou been, my boy?"

"T have been in the swamps and lo.st my way,"
W^ alter replied.

" It is a bad neighbourhood, lad, and worse are the

ifiiillll

WALTER KELTS HIS OWN COUNSEL.

of yours, when
Tians like your-
•ining Peter, the
to which I was
t back, to set a
il who might be
•iption oi your

ad taken off his
, and their voices
the swamp. But
iigh the darkness

at any mouient
ray his presence,
ground with the
fter them. They

footsteps on the
juidance for him.

few words were

steps. He drew

\ saw a dim figure

med his way.

eplacing his shoes,

eared the higher
heard two horse-
He now turned

alking he reached

smith said. "The
and I myself can
Dubeen, my boy?"
d lost my way,"

and worse are tlie

i people who live there. If I had my way the whole
: piASse should be called out, and the marshes searched
I from end to end, and all found there should be knocked
I on head and thrown into their own ditches. There
[would be no fear of any honest man coming to his end
[thereby; but now to bed, lad. You can tell me all
labout it to-mor-^ow; but we have a rare day's work
[before us, and the fire muot be alight at daybreak."

On his way back Walter had debated with himself
JNvhether to inform his master of what bad happened,
[e was, however, bent upon having an adventure
)n his own account, and it was a serious thing in
^hose days for an apprentice lad to bring an accusation
igainst a noble. The city would not indeed allow
^ven an apprentice to be overridden, and although
Jeoffrey Ward's forge stood beyond the city walls it
ras yet within the liberties, the city allowing its
[raftsmen to open shops just outside the gates, and to
[njoy the same privileges as if dwelling actually within
le walls.

On the following afternoon Walter asked leave to
Base work an hour earli'^'r than usual, as he wished to
|o across into the city. The armourer ^vas surprised,
Ince this was ^he first time that such a thing had hap-
3ned since the lad had worked for him.
"What are you up to, Walter? — some mischief I
^11 be bound. Go, lad; you have worked so steadily
lat you have well earned more than an hour's holiday
lould vou want it."

Walter crossed the bridge, and seeking out four or

.^e of his old companions, begged them < o bring their

)ws and clubs and rejoin him at the stairs by London

Iridge. To their laughing inquiries whether he meant

go a-shooting of fish, he told them to ask no ques-

i '■ !'■ I

ON THE THAMES.

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tions until they joined him. As soon as work was
over the boys gathered at the steps, where Walter had
already engaged a boat. There were some mocking
inquiries from the watermen standing about as to
where they were going shooting. Walter answered
with some light chafi", and, two of the party taking
oars, they started up the river."

" Now I will tell you what we are bent on." Walter
said. " From some words I overheard I believe that
some of the ruffians over in the marshes are this even-
ing going to make an attack upon a boat with a lady
in it coming down the river. W^e will be on the spot,
and can give them a reception such as they do not
expect."

*' Do you know who the lady is, Walter?"

"I have not the least idea. I only caught a few
words, and may be wrong; still it will do no harm
should I be mistaken."

The tide was running down strongly, for there had
been a good deal of rain during the preceding week,
and all night it had poured heavily. It was fine now,
but the stream was running down thick and turbid,
and it needed all the boys' efforts to force the wherry
against it. They rowed by turns; all were fairly
expert at the exercise, for in those days the Thames
was at once the great highway and playground of
London. To the wharves below the bridge ships
brought the rich merchandise o^ Italy and the Low
Countries; while from above, the grain, needed for tlie
wants of the great city was floated down in barges from
the west.

Passing the Temple, the boys rowed along by the green
banks and fields as far as Westminster, which at thai
time was almost a rival of the city, for here were tii«

l-.l!

■ii!

alter?"

ily cauglit a few

will do no harm

Ay, for there hail
'preceding week,

It was fine now,
thick and turbid,
) force the wherry
; all were fairly
'days the Thames
id playground of

the bridge ships
baly and the Low
lin, needed for tlie
)wn in barges from

along by the green
ster, which at that
for here were the

A HARD ROW.

abbey and great monastery; here were the king's palace
and court, and the houses of many of his nobles. Then
they went along by the low shores of Millbank, keep-
ing a sharp look-out for boats going down with the
stream. It was already getting dark, for Walter had
not allowed for the strength of the stream, and he was
full of anxiety lest he should arrive too late.

C5(^i^fe)^)^

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II . Ill, I '

CHAPTER IIL

A THWARTED PLOT.

STk

g-/

p^ BOAT was rowing rapidly down the stream.

[^' It had passed the village of Chelsea, and

the men were doing their best to reach their

destination at Westminster before nightfall.

Two men were rowing; in the stern sat a

lady with a girl of about eleven years old. A woman

evidently a servant, sat beside the lady, while behind,

steering the boat, was an elderly retainer.

" It is getting dark," the lady said; " I would that
my cousin James had not detained us so long at Rich-
mond, and then after all he was unable to accompany
us. I like not being out on the river so late."

"No, indeed, my lady," the woman replied; "I have
heard tell lately much of the doings of the river pirates.
They say that boats are often picked up stove in
and broken, and that none know what had become of
tlieir occupants, and that bodies, gashed and hewn, are
often found floating in the river."

"How horrible," the girl said; "your tale makes
me shiver, Martha; I would you had said nothing about
it till we were on land again."

"Do not be afraid, Edith," the lady said cheerfully;
" we shall soon be safe at Westminster."

THE ATTACK ON THE tOAT.

•wn the stream.
,f Chelsea, and
3t to reach their
Defore nightfall,
the stern sat a
old. A woman
\y, while behind,

icr.
"I would that
30 long at Rich-
ie to accompany
30 late."

•eplied; "I have
bhe river pirates.
ed up stove in
b had become of
d and hewn, are

rour tale makes
id nothing about

said cheerfully;

There were now only two or three boats to be f^een

^n the river. They were ncaring the end of iht-ir

)urney now, and the great pile of the Abbey could be

3en throuijh the darkness. A boat with several men

it was seen rowiiiir across the river towards the

[jambeth side. It was awkwardly managed.

" Look out! " the steersman of the boat coming down
tream shouted; "30U will run into us if you don't
lind."
An order was given in the other boat, the men
brained to their oars, and in an instant the boat ran
[ith a crash into the side of the other, cutting it down
the water's edge. For a minute there was a wild
^ene of confusion; the women shrieked, the watermen
louted, and, thinking that it was an accident, strove,
the boat sank from under them, to climb into that
hich had run them down. They were speedily un-
Scoived. One was sunk by a heavy blow with an oar,
ie other was stabbed with a dagger, while the assail-
its struck fiercely at the old man and the women.
At this moment, however, a third boat made itii
Dpearance on the scene, its occupants uttering loud
puts. As they rowed towards the spot their approach
IS heralded by a shower of arrows. Two of the
iffians were struck — one fell over mortally wounded,
le other sank down into the boat.
I" Row, men, row," their leader shouted, "or we shall

be taken."

[Again seizing their oars, the rowers started at full

jed towards the Lambeth shore. The arrows of

jir pursuers still fell among them, two more of

nr number being wounded before they reached the

Jposite shore. The pursuit was not continued, the

-comers ceasing to row at the spot where the

' ii "I il

THE RESCUE.

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catastrophe had taken place. Walter stood up in tlic
boat and looked round. A floating oar, a stretcher,
and a sheep-skin which had served as a cushion, alone
floated.

Suddenly there was a choking cry heard a few yards
down stream, and Walter leapt into th^ river. A few
strokes took b'm to the side of the girl, and he found,
on throwing his arm round her, that she was still
clasped in her mother's arms. Seizing them both,
Walter shouted to his comrades. They had already
turned the boat's head, and in a minute were alonj,'-
side.

It was a difficult task to jjet the mother and chilil
on board, as the girl refused to loose her hold. It
was, however, accomplished, and the child sat still and
quiet by Walter's side, while his comrades endeavoured
to staunch the blood which was flowing from a seven
wound in her mother's head. When they had boun;
it up they rubbed her hands, and by the time tliej
had reached the steps at Westminster the lady openet
her eyes. For a moment she looked bewildered, am
then, on glancing round, she gave a low cry of deligli
at seeing her child sittinj; by Walter's side.

On reaching the steps the boys handed her over t
the care of the watermen there, who soon procured c
litter and carried her, she being still too weak t
walk, to the dwelling of the Earl of Talbot, where sli
said she was expected. The apprentices rowed bad
to London Bridge, elated at the success of their enter
prise, but regretting much that they had arrived to
late to hinder the outrage, or to prevent the escape i
its perpetrators.

Walter on his return home related the whole circun
stance to his master.

geoffuey's counsel.

stood up in tli«
oar, a stretcher,
a cushion, alone

eard a few yards
IP river. A few
rl, and he found,
at she was still
zing them both,
hey had already
nute were along-

mother and chili
)se her hold. It
child sat still and
:ades endeavoured
'ing from a severt
n they had boun'
by the time the;
ar the lady opene.
d bewildered, m
low cry of deligli
r's side.

landed her overt
10 soon procured
still too weak t
f Talbot, where si.
jntices rowed bat
•cess of their ente
ey had arrived to
•event the escapee

id the whole circuu

" I would you had told me, Walter," the latter said,

I since we might have taken precautions which would

lave prevented this foul deed from taking place.

lowever, I can understand your wanting to accomplish

le adventure without my aid; but we must think

iow what had best be said and done. As the lady

jlongs to the court, there is sure to be a fine pother

3out the matter, and you and all who were there will

examined touching your share of the adventure, and

)w you came to be upon the spot. The others will,

course, say that they were there under your direc-

)n; and we had best think how much of your story

)u had better tell."

" Why should I not tell it all (' '* Walter asked indig-
ently.

["You should never tell a lie, Walter; but in days

te these it is safer sometimes not to tell more than

necessary. It is a good rule in life, my boy, to make

more enemies than may be needful. This knight,

10 is doubtless a great villain, has maybe powerful

Kends, and it is as well, if it can be avoided, that you

\ould not embroil yourself with these. Many a man

^s been knocked on head or stabbed on a dark night,

^cause he could not keep his tongue from wagging.

jast said, the sooner mended,' is a good proverb; but

rill think it over to-night, and tell you in the mc rn-

[When they met again in the workshop the armourer
)d: "Clean yourself up after breakfast, Walter, and
^t on your best clothes. I will go with you before
mayor, and then you shall tell him your story,
kre is sure to be a stir about it before the day is

le. As we walk thither we can settle how much of

ir story it is good to telL"

SILKNCE IS GOLDEN.

1*1

■r

:i i

On their way over the bridge OeofFrcy told Walter
that he thought he Imd better tell the whole wtoiy
exactly as it had occurred, concealing only the fact
that he had recofjnized the knidit's I'uce. "You Imd
best too," he said, "mention nought about the whitf
cloalc. If we can catch the man of the hut in the
swamp, likely enough the rack will wring from him
the name of his employer, and in that case, if you nn'
brought up OS a witness against him you will of course
say that you recognize his face; but 'tis better that tlic
accusation should not come from you. No great weight
would be given to the word of a 'prentice boy us
against that of a noble. It is as bad for earthen pots
to knock against brass ones, as it is for a yeoman in
a leathern jerkin to stand up against a knight in full
armour."

" But unless the lady knows her enemy she may
fall again into his snares."

" I have thought of that," Geoffrey said, "and we will
take measures to prevent it."

"But how can we prevent it?" Walter asked, sur-
prised.

" We must find out who this knight may be, which
should, methinks, not be difficult. Then we will send
to him a message that his share in this night's work u
known to several, and that if any harm should ever
again be attempted against the lady or her daughter,
he shall be denounced before King Edward himself as
the author of the wrong. I trust, however, that we
may capture the man of the swamp, and that the truth
may be wrung from him."

By this time they had arrived at the Guildhall, and
making their way into the court, Geoffrey demamled
private speech with the Lord Mayor.

BEFORE THE LOKD MAYOR.

,lter asked, sur-

"Can you not say in open court what is your busi-
les.si'" the Lord Ahiyor asked.

" I fear that if 1 did it vvouhl defeat the endti of
lu.stice."

lletirinjj with the chief niafristrate into an inner
)om, GeoHi't'y desired Walter to tell Ids story. This
\e did, ending by saying that he regretted much that
|e had not at once told his master what he had heard ;
but that, although he deemed evil was intended, he did
^ot know that murder was meant, and thought it but
)ncerned the carrying off of some damsel, and that
lis he had intended, by the aid of his comrades, to
prevent.

" You have done well, Master Walter, since that be
[our name," the magistrate said. " That you might
lave done better is true, for had you acted otherwise
tou. might have prevented murder from being done,
itill one cannot expect old heads upon young shoulders,
jive me the names of those who were with you, for
shall doubtless receive a message from Westminster
lis morning to know if I have heard aught of the
fair. In the meantime we must take steps to secure
jese pirates of the marsh. The ground is across the
[ver, and lies out of my jurisdiction."
" It is for that reason," Geoffrey .said, ''that I wished
lat the story should be told to you privately, since
le men concerned might well have .sent a friend to
le court to hear if aught was said which might en-
mger them."

" I will give you a letter to a magistrate of Surrey,
id he will despatch some constables under your
lidivnce to catch these rascals. I fear there have
Jen many murders performed by them lately besides
kat in question, and you will be doing a good service

ii I

t:<

SEARCH FUR THE PIRATES.

I )

I '■

I ' ' •

to the citizens by uiiling in the capture of these
ujen."

" I will go willingly," the smith assented.

"I will at once scnJ otl' a messenger on horseback,'
the Lord Maj^or said, after a moment's thought. " it
will be quicker; 1 will tell the justice that if he will
come to the meeting of the roads on Kennington
Common, at seven this evening, you will be there with
your apprentice to act as a guide."

"I will," the armourer said, "and will bring witli
me two or three of my men who are used to hard
blows, for, to tell you the truth, I have no great belitf
in the valour of constables, and we may meet with u
stout resistance."

" So be it," the Lord Mayor sa'd; "and luck be with
you, for these men are the scourges of the river."

That evening the armourer shut up his shop sooner
than usual, and accompanied by Walter and four of
his workmen, all carrying stout oaken cudgels, witli
hand-axes in their girdles, started along the lonely
road to Kennington. Half an hour after their arrival
the magistrate, with ten men, rode up. He was well
pleased at the sight of the reinforcement which await
him, for the river pirates might be expected to make
a desperate resistance. Geotl'rey advised a halt for a
time until it should be well-nigh dark, as the marau-
ders might have spies set to give notice should strangers
enter the marsh.

They started before it was quite dark, as Walter
doubted whether he should be able to lead tlieiii
straight to the hut after the night had completely fallen '
He felt, however, tolerably sure of his locality, for he
had noticed that two trees grew on the edge of tht
swamp just at the spot where he had left it. He liaii

eil ,,^

illiih

EFKECTINO A CAPTLKK.

,ure of t^'Gwe

10 difTiculty in Hnding these, and at once led the way.

riio horses of the magistnite and his followers were
left in charge of three of their number.

"You are sure you are going right?" the magistrate

kaid to Walter. " The marsh seems to stretch every-
Ivhere, and we might well fall into a quagmire, which
[vuuld swallow us all up."
" I am sure of my way," Walter answered; "and see,

render clump of bushes, which you can just observe

^bove the marsh, a quarter of a mile away, is the spot

irhere the house of their leader is situated."
With strict injunctions that not a word was to be

Ipoken until the bush was surrounded, aril that all

fere to step noiselessly and with caution, the party

loved forward. It was now nearly dark, and as they

[pproached the hut sounds of laughter and revelry

lere heard.
"They are celebrating their success in a carouse,"

Seoffrey said. "We shall catch them nicely in a trap."
When they came close a man who was sitting just
the low mouth of the hut suddenly sprang to his

bet and shouted, " Who goes there ? " He had apparent-
been placed as sentry, but had joined in the potations
)ing on inside, and had forgotten to look round from

jnie to time to see that none were approaching.
At his challenge the whole party rushed forward,
id as they reached the hut the men from within came

[rambling out, sword in hand. For two or three
inutes there was a sharp fight, and had the constables

ken alone they would have been defeated, for they

are outnumbered and the pirates were desperate.

[The heavy clubs of the armourers decided the fight.

le or two of the band alone succeeded in break ins

rough, the rest were knocked down and bound; not,

1. 1

THE PniSOXEKS.

ii ■' !.'l

!i:i 1

• 1 1

i '■

I Ml

however, until several severe wounds had been inflicted
on their assailants.

When the fray was over, it was found tlmt nine
prisoners had been captured. Some of tliese were
stunned by th9 blows which the smiths had .lealt them,
and two or three were badly wounded; all wer~ more
or less injured in the strufrgle. When they recovered
their senses they were made to get on their feet, and
with their hands tied securely behind them wore
marched between a double line of theiT* captors off the
marsh.

"Thanks for your services," the justice said when
they had gained the place where the;?^ had left their
horses. " Nine of my men shall tie each one of thesi;
rascals to their stirrups by halters round their necks,
and we will give them a smart run into Richmond,
wli.vre we will lodge them in the jail. Tn-morrow is
Sunday; on Monday they will be brought before me,
and I shall want the evidence of Master Walter
Fletcher and of those who were in the boat with liini
as to what took place on the river. Methinks tin
evidence on that score, and the resistance which tliey
offered to us this evening, will be sufficient to put a
halter round their necks; but from what I have heanl
by the letter which the Lord Mayor sent me, there nn
others higher in rank concerned in the affair; doubtle><
we shall find means to make these ruffians speak."

Accordingly, at the justice's orders, halters were
pluced round the necks of the prisoners, the other eii(l>
being attached to the saddles, and the party set off ai
a pace which taxed to the utmost the strength of the
wounded men. GeofTrey and his party returned in higk
spirits to Southwark.

On the Monday Walter went over to Richmond

len if,
fO ref
•TIh
Id.

in 111.11

WALTEIIS FVI HENCE.

jcompanied by the armourers and by the lads wao

Ud been in the hoat with him. The nine rufiians,

trongly guarded were brought up in the justice room.

Valter first gave his evidence, and related how he had

iverheard a portion of the conversation, which led him

believe that an attack would be made upon the boat

)tning down the river.

"Can you identify either of the prisoners as being
le man whom you saw at the door of the hut?"
" No," Walter sp.id. "When I first saw him I was too
ir of!" to make out his face. When he l<^ft the hut it
^as dark."
" Should you Irnow the other man, the one who was
Idressed as sir knight, if you saw him again?"

I should," Walter replii^d. He then gave an
Ecount of the attack upon the boat, but .said that in
le suddenness of the aflair and the frrowing darkness
noticed none of the figure? distinctly enough to
pcognize them again. Two or three of tiie other
)prentices gave similar testimony as to the attack.
A gentleman then presented himself, and gave his
inie as Sir William de Hertford. He said that he
id come at the request of the Lady Alice Vernon,
|ho was still suffering from the effects of the wound
1(1 immeision. She had requested him to say that at
Inie future occasion she would appear to testify, but
)at in the confusion and suddenness of the attack she
id noticed no faces in the boat which assailed them,
Id could identify none concerned in the affair.
The justice who had headed the attack on the hut
|en gave his evidence as to that affair, the armourer
^o relating the incidents of the conflict.
•The prisoners will be committed for trial," the justice
Id. "At present there is no actual proof that any oi

(284) I)

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■ ; ::i ^ i; !'■

COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.

I'll. I

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iiiii

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-el;

them were concerned in this murderous outrage beyond
the fact that they were taken in the place where it was
planned. The suspicion is strong that some at least
were engaged in it. Upon the persons of all of them
were valuable daggers, chains, and other ornaments,
which could not have been come by honestly, and I
doubt not that they form part of the gang which has
so long been a terror to peaceful travellers alike by the
road and river, and it may be that some who have
been robbed will be able to identify the articles taken
upon them. They are committed for trial: firstly, as
having been concerned in the attack upon Dame Alice
Vernon; secondly, as being notorious ill -livers and
robbers; thirdly, as having resisted lawful arrest by the
king's oflScers. The greatest criminal in the aftiair is
not at present before me, but it may be that from such
information as Dame Vernon may be uble to furnish,
and from such confessions as justice will be able to
wring from the prisoners, he will at the trial stand
beside his fellows."

Walter returned to town with his companions. On
reaching the armourer's they found a retainer of the
Earl of Talbot awaiting them, with the message that
the Lady Alice Vernon wished the attendance of Walter
Fletcher, whose name she had learned from the Lord
Mayor as that of the lad to whom she and her daughter
owed their lives, at noon on the following day, at the
residence of the Earl of Talbot.

"That is the worst of an adventure," Welter said
crossly, after the retainer had departed. " One can't
have a bit of excitement without being sent for, and
thanked, and stared at. I would rather fight the best
swordsman in the city than have to go down to the
mansion of Earl Talbot with my cap in my hand."

A COINCIDEXCR

GeofTrey laughed. " You must indeed have your cap
in your luind, Walter; but you need not bear yourself
in that spirit. The 'prentice of a London citizen may
have just as much honest pride and independence as
the proudest earl at Westminster; but carry not inde-
pendence too far. Remember that if you yourself had
; received a great service you would be hurt if the donor
j refused to receive your thanks; and it would be churlish
indeed were you to put on sullen looks, or to refuse to
accept any present which the lady whose life you have
saved may make you. It is strange, indeed, that it
should be Dame Vernon, whose husband. Sir Jasper
[Vernon, received the fiefs of Westerham and Hyde."

"Why should it be curious that it is she?" Walter
jasked.

Oh!" Geoffrey said, rather confusedly. "I was
Inot thinking — that is — 1 mean that it is curious
Ibecause Bertha Fletcher was for years a dependant on
[the family of Sir Roland Somers, who was killed in the
[troubles when the king took the reins of government
|in his hands, and his lands, being forfeit, were given
to Sir Jasper Vernon, who aided the king in that
itfair."

" I wish you would tell me about that," Walter said,
h How was it that there was any trouble as to King
lidward having kingly authority?"

" It happened in this way," Geoffrey said. " King
i^dward II., his father, was a weak prince, governed
wholly by favourites, and unable to hold in check the
J,urbulent batons. His queen, Isabella of France, sister
)f the French king, a haughty and ambitious woman,
ietermined to snatch the reins of power from the
[ndolei.'t hands of her husband, and af^^.r a visit to her
brother she returned with an arm j from Hainault in

t
!

■ill

IP!

illiilhHIlii'i

Hi! .
I 1' i t

: I

';i|irs

RETROSI'ECTIVE.

order to detlirone him. She was accompanied by her
eldest son, and after a short struggle the king was
de+hroned. He had but few friends, and men thounlit
that under the young Edward, who had already given
promise of virtue and wisdom, some order might be
introduced into the realm. He was crowned Edward
ni., thus, at the early age of fifteen, usurping the
throne of his father. The real power, however, re-
mained with Isabella, who was president of the council
of regency, and who, in her turn, was governed by her
favourite Mortimer. England soon found that the
change which had been made was far from beneficial,
The government was by turns weak and oppressive.
The employment of foreign troops was regarded witli
the greatest hostility by the people, and the insolence
of Mortimer alienated the great barons. Finally, the
murder of the dethroned kinjj excited throughout the
kingdom a feeling of horror and loathing against the
queen.

"All this feeling, however, was confined to her,
Edward, who was but a puppet in her hands, beini;
regarded with affection and pity. Soon after his
succession the young king was married to our queen,
Philippa of Hainan^, who is as good as she is beauti-
ful, and who is loved from one end of the kingdom
to the other. I can tell you, the city was a sight to
see when she entered with the king. Such pageant*
and rejoicing were never known. They were si
young, he not yet sixteen, and she but fourteen, ami
yet to bear on their shoulders the weight of the state
A braver looking lad and a fairer giil mine eyes nevei
looked on. It was soon after this that the events arost
which led to the war with France, but this is too loni
a tale for me to tell you now. The Prince of Wak

THE PLOT AGAINST MORTIMER.

[was born on the loth of June, 1330, two years after
[the royal marriage.

"So far the king had acquiesced quietly in the
luthority of his mother, but he now paid a visit to
''ranee, and doubtless the barons around him there
took advantage of his absence from her tutelage to
^hake her intluence over his mind; and at the same;
time a rising took place at home against her authority,
["his was suppressed, and the Earl of Kent, the king's
mcle, was arrested and executed by Isabella. This act
j)f severity against his uncle, no doubt, hastened the
prince's determination to shake off the authority of his
laughty mother and to assume the reins of govern-
lent himself. The matter, however, was not easy to
Accomplish. Mortimer having the whole of the royal
levenue at his disposal, had attached to himself by
lies of interest a large number of barons, and had in his
py nearly two hundred knights and a large body of
len-at-arms. Thus it was no easy matter to arrest him.
It was determined that the deed should be done at the
leeting of the parliament at Nottingham. Here Mor-
[mer appeared with Isabella in royal pomp. They
)ok up their abode at the castle, while the king and
ther members of the royal family were obliged to
)ntent themselves with an inferior place of residence.
The gates of the castle were locked at sunset, and
le keys brought by the constable, Sir William Eland,
id handed to the queen herself. This knight was a
kyal and gallant gentleman, and regarded Mortimer
pth no affection, and when he received the king's
)mmands to assist the barons charged to arrest him
at once agreed to do so. He was aware of the
^istence of a subterranean communication leading
)m the interior of the castle to the outer country.

I i :

1 ■ ; rr !

1 ■ ii ;

1 1 1

THE EXECUTION OF THE FAVOURITE.

iMi

I I;' I .

illill

and by this, on the night of the 19th of October, 13o(),
he led nine resolute knights — the Lords Montague,
SutTolk, Stafford, Molins, and Clinton, with three
brothers of the name of Bohun, and Sir John Nevil —
into the heart of the castle. Mortimer was found
burrounded by a number of his friends. On the sudden
entry of the knights known to be hostile to Mortimer
his friends drew their swords, and a short but desperate
light took place. Many were wounded, and Sir Hugh
Turpleton and Richard Monmouth were slain. Mor-
timer was carried to London, and was tried and con-
demned by parliament, and executed for felony and
treason. Several of his followers were executed, and
others were attacked in their strongholds and killed;
among these was Sir Roland Somers.

"Queen Isabella was confined in Castle Risings,
where she still remains a prisoner. Such, Walter,
were the troubles which occurred when King Edward
first took up the reins of power in this realm; and
now, let's to supper, for I can tell you that my walk
«o Kingston has given me a marvellous appetite. We
have three or four hours' work yet before we go to
bed, for that Milan harness was promised for the
morrow, and the repairs are too delicate for me to
intrust it to the men. It is good to assist the law, but
this work of attending as a witness makes a grievous
break in the time of a busy man. It is a pity, Waltei; ;|
that your mind is so set on soldiering, for you would
have made a marvellous good craftsman. However, I
reckon that after you have seen a few years of fight-
ing in France, and have got some of your wild blood
let out, you will be glad enough to settle down here
with me; as you know, our profits are good, and
work plentiful; and did I choose I might hold mine

Walter's choice.

6/)

head higher than I

do among the citizens; and you, if
you join me, may well aspire to a place in the common
council, ay, and even to an alderman's gjwn, in which
case I may yet be addressing you as *^phe very wor-
shipful my Lord Mayor."

"Pooh!" Walter laughed; "a fig for your lord
mayors! I would a thousand times rather be a simple
squire in the following of our young prince."

!'|;;.|1/;.

CHAPTER IV.

A KXIGHTS CHAIN.

(!!i|

1 11 ^

I §

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iPJi 'fii:!;::

il S!;! I

jilt fHiii'i:

lli! ' j!s III

HE following xnoniing Walter put on the
sober russet dress which he wore on Sun-
dayr, and holidays, for gay colours were not
allowed to the apprentices, and set out for
Westniinster. Although he endeavoured to
assume an air gC carelessness and ease as he approached
the dwelling of Earl Talbot, he was very far from
feeling comfortable, and wished in his heart that liis
master had accompanied him on his errand. Half a
dozen men-at-arms were standing on the steps of tlit
mansion, who looked with haughty surprise at tlif
young apprentice,

" Daiae Alice Vernon has sent to express her desire
to have speech with me," he said (juietly, " and 1 would
fain know if she can receive me,"

" Here, Dikon," one of :he nif^n cried to anotliei
within the hall. "This is the lad you were sent to
fetch yesterday. I won^lered much w..o the city ap-
prentice was, who with sdcli an assured air, i.iarchcd tip
to tlie door; but it' what thou sayest be true, that lie
saved the life of Dame Vernon and her little daughter,
he ri'.ust be a brave lad, and would be more in pl?oe
ainonjj; men and soldiers than in servinfl: wares behind
the counter oi" a fat city tradesman."

LADY ALICE VEIINON.

ft7

"I serve behind no counter," Walter said indig-
lantly. "I am an armourer, and mayliap can use
unis as well as make them."

There was a laugh among the men at the boy's
kturdy .self-assertion, and then the man named Dikon
laid:

" Come along, lad. I will take you to Dame Vernon
U once. She is expecting you ; and, my faith, it would
lot be safe to leave you standing here long, for I see
fou would shortly be engaged in splitting the weasands
^f tny comrades."

There was another roar of lauorhter from the men,

\nd Walter, somewhat abashed, followed his conductor

ito the house. Leading him through the hall and along

iveral corridors, whose spaciousness and splendour

luite overpowered the young apprentice, he handed

jiin over to a waiting woman, who ushered him into

apartment where Dame Vernon was reclining on a

)uch. Her little daughter was sitting upon a low
tool beside her, and upon seeing Walter she leapt to
[er feet, clapping her hands.

"Oh! mother, this is the boy that rescued us out

the river."

The lady looked with some surprise at the lad. She

id but a faint remembrance of the events which

Dcuried between the time when she received a blow

^0111 the sword of one of her assailants and that when

le found heiself on a couch in the abode of her kins-
i; and when she had been told that she had been

ived by a city apprentice she had pictured to herself

lad of a very different kind to him who now stood

sfore her.
Walter was now nearly sixteen years old. His

lame was very powerful and firmly knit. His dark-

WAI.TKII'S DISCLAIMEIt

I! :'

brown hair was cut short, but, being someivhat longer^
than was ordinary with the apprentices, li'l with u
slight wave back on his forehead. His bearing wa^i
respectful, and at the same time independent. Therij
was none of that confusion which might be expccteli
on the part of a lad from the city in the presence off
a lady of rank. His dark, heavy eyebrows, resolut«|
mouth, and square chin gave an expression of sternnes]
to his face, which was belied by the merry expressionl
of his eyes and the bright smile when he was spoken tol

" I have to thank you, young sir," she said, hol(linj|
out her hand, which Walter, after the custom of tlief
time, raised to his lips, bending upon one knee as
did so, " for the lives of myself and my daughter, wliid|
would surely have been lost had you not jumped ove|
to save us."

" I am glad that I arrived in time to be of aid,
Walter said frankly; "but indeed I am rather to l»|
blamed tlian praised, for had I, when I heard ttit
plotting against the safety of the boat, told my masters
of it, as I should have done, instead of taking the a<l|
venture upon mine own shoulders, doubtless a boal
would have been sent up in time to prevent the attacl|
from taking place. Therefore, instead of being praise|
for having arrived a little too late, I should be rate,
for not having come there in time."

Dame Vernon smiled.

" Although you may continue to insist that you ari
to blame, this does not alter the fact that you liavi
saved our lives. Is there any way in which T canl
useful to you? Are you discontented with yoii|
state? for, in truth, you look as if Nature had ii-
tended you for a gallant soldier rather than a cii
craftsman. Earl Talbot, who is my uncle, would, I a: J

m('}

QLKSTION FOR QUESTION.

jure, receive you into his following should you so
jhooso it, and 1 would gladly pay for the cancelling of
/•our indentures."

"I thank you, indeed, lady, for your kind offices,"
I^Valter said earnestly; "for the present I am well
[joiitent to remain at my craft, which is that of an
irniourcr, until, at any rate, I have gained such manly
Strength and vigour as would fit me for a man-at-
U'lns, and my good master, Geoffrey Ward, will,
athout payment received, let me go when I ask that
|[race of him."

"Edith, go and look from the window at the boats
Massing along the river; and now," she went on, as the
rirl had obeyed her orders, " I would fain ask you
^lore about the interview you overheard in the marshes.
Sir William de Hertford told me of the evidence that
^ou had given before the justice. It is passing strange
hat he who incited the other to the deed should have
^een by him termed 'Sir Knight'. Maybe it was merely

nickname among his fellows."

"Before I speak, lady," Walter said quietly, "I would

lin know whether you wish to be assured of the truth.
|onietimes, they say, it is wiser to remain in ignorance;
It other times forewarned is forearmed. Frankly, 1
[id not tell all I know before the court, deeming that
[eradventure you might wish to see me, and that I

)uld then tell the whole to your private ear, should
[ou wish to know it, and you could then bid me either
pep silence or proclaim all I knew when the trial of

lese evil-doers comes on."

"You seem to me to 'je wise beyond your years,
[oung sir," the lady said.

The wisdom is not mine, lady, but my master's. I

)ok counsel with him, and acted as he advised me."

A TRAITOROUS RELATIVE.

■ : I

!l- I

"I would fain know all," the lady said. "I Lnvy
already strange suspicions of one from whom assuredly
I looked not for such evil designs. It will grieve me to
be convinced that the suspicions are well founded; but
it will be better to know the truth than to remain in
a state of doubt."

"The person then was a knight, for I had .seen liim
before when he came in knightly harness into my
master's shop to have two rivets put into his hauberk.
I liked not his face then, and should have remembered
it anywhere. I knew him at once when I saw him.
He was a dark-faced knight, handsome, and yet with
features which reminded me of a hawk."

Dame Vernon gave a little exclamation, which a.s-
sured the lad that she recognized the description.

"You may partly know, lady, whether it is he whom
you suppose, for he said that he would detain your ;^
boat so that it should not come along until dark, ami
moreover, he told them that they would know tlir
boat since you would be wrapt in a white mantle."

The lady sat for some time with her face hidden in
her hands.

"It is as I feared," she said at last, "and it grievt
me to the heart to think that one who, although iioij
so nearly related in blood, I regarded as a brotlicrj
should have betrayed me to death. My mind
troubled indeed, and I know not what course I shall
take, whether to reveal this dreadful secret or to con|
ceal it."

"I may say, madam," Walter said earnestly, "tlial
should you wish the matter to remain a secret, you nia|
rely upon it that I will tell no more at the trial tliaf
I revealed yesterday; but I would remind you t!i;l
there is a danger that the leader of you ruffians, nvI

THE LADY AND THE 'iMlENTICB.

is probably alone acquainted with the name of his eni-
Lloyer, may, under tho intluenco of the torture, reveal
lit.

"That fear is for tlie present past, since a messenger
mived from Kingston but a few minutes since, saying
tliiit yester-even, under tiie threat of torture, the pri-
Boners had pointed out the one among their number
ho was their ciiief. This morning, however, it was
found that the warder who had charge of them had
seen bribed; ho was missing from his post, and the
ioor of the cell wherein the principal villain had been
[nunured, apart from the others, was opened, and he
^ad escaped."

"Tlion," Walter said, "it is now open to you to speak
kr be silent as you will. You will pardon my forward-
ness if I say that my master, in talking the matter
Iver with me, sugge.sted that tliis evil knight might
scaled from attempting any future enterprise
|gainst you were he informed that it was known to
2voral persons that he was the author of this outrage,
1(1 that if any further attempts were at any time
bade against you, the proofs of his crime would be
|ii(l before the kincr."
"Thanks, good lad," the lady said, "for your sugges-
lon. Should I decide to keep the matter secret, 1 will
|yself send him a message to that effect, in such guise
\i\i he would not know whence it conies. And now,
would fain reward you for what you have done for
and," she went on, .seeing a Hush srddenly mount
3on the lad's face, as he made a half step backwards,
|)efore I saw you, had thought of offering you a purse
gold, which, although it would but poorly reward
^ur services, would yet have proved useful to you
len the time came foi ^'ou to start as a craftsman

) ii

I w

fij

A KXJOHT'S CHAIN.

I'!

on your own account; but now that I have occn you,
1 feel that although there are few who think them-
selves demeaned by accepting gifts of money in re-
ward for services, you would rather my gratitude
took some other form. It can only do that of offering
3'ou such good services that I can render with Earl
'J'albot, should you ever choose the profession of arms;
and in the meantime, as a memento of the lives you
have saved, you will, I am sure, not refuse this chain,"
and she took a very handsome one of gold from her
neck; "the more so since it was the gift of her niajest),
our gracious queen, to myself. She will, I am sure,
acquit me of parting with her gift when I tell her that
I transferred it to one who had saved the lives of myself
and my daughter, and who was too proud to accept
other acknowledgment."

Colouring deeply, and with tears in his eyes at the
kindness and taoughtful consideration of the lady,
Walter knelt on one knee before her, and she placed
round his neck the Ions: irold chain which she had been I

o o

wearing.

"It is a knight's chain," the lady said, smiling, "and
was part of the spoil gained by King Edward from the
French. Maybe," she added kindly, "it will be wornj
by a knight again. Stranger things have happened,
you know."

Walter flushed again with pleasure

"Maybe, lady," he said modestly, "even apprentices!
have their dreams, and men-at-arms may always hopej
by deeds of valour, to attain a knight's spurs even!
though they may not be of noble blood or have served m
page and squire to a baron; but whether as a 'prenticel
or soldier, 1 hope I shall never do discredit to yoiirj
gift."

».• oGcn you,
hink thciii-
oney in re-
y gratitude
t of offering
r with Earl
ion of arms;
le lives you
5 this chain,"
lid from licr

herniajest),
,, I am sure,

tell her that
.ves of myself
lud to accept

is eyes at tlie
of the lady,

id she placed
she had been

smiling, " and
ward from the

will be worn I
ave happened,

en apprentices
Y always hope,
it's spurs even
have served as I
r as a 'prentice I
icredit to yont

;JS

'!■■%

204

'TAKE THIS GAGE AS A REWARD OF YOUR VALOUR."

A GIRLS GAGE.

•'Edith, come here/' Dame Vernon sai<l, "I have done
talking now. And what are you going to give this
brave knight of ours who saved us trora drowning."

The girl looked thoughtfully at Walter. " I don't
think you would care for presents," she said; "and you
look as if a sword or a horse would suit you better
than a girl's gift. And yet I should like to give you
something, such as ladies give their knights who have
done brave deeds for them. It must be something
quite my own, and you must take it as a keepsake.
What shall it be, mamma?"

"Give him the bracelet which your cousin gave you
last week," her .nother said; "I would rather that you
did not keep it, and I know you are not very fond of
him."

"I can't bear him," the girl said earnestly, "and I wish
ihe would not kiss me; he always looks as if he were
[going to bite, and I will gladly give his bracelet to
[this brave boy."

"Very well, Edith, fetch the bracelet from that coffer
I in the corner."

The girl went to the coffer and brought out the
[little bracelet, then she approached Walter.

"You must go down on your knee," she said; "true
[knights always do thft to receive their lady's gifts.
iow hold out your hand. There," she went on in a
)retty imperious way, "take this gage as a reward of
i^our valour, and act ever as a true knight in the ser-
iice of your lady."

Bending down she dropt a kiss upon Walter's glow-
ing cheek, and then, half frightened at her own te-
[nerity, ran back to her mother's side.

"And nov/." Dame Vernon went on, "will you thank
rour five comrades for their service in the matter, and

A MOTH Ell's AXXIEFIES.

give them each two gold pieces to spend as they
will."

" He is a noble lad," Dame Vernon had said to her-
self when Walter had taken his leave. "Would he
had been the son of one of the nobles of the court! It
might have been then, if he had distinguished himself
in war, as he would surely do, that the king might
have assigned Edith to him. As her lord and guardian
he is certain to give her hand as a reward for valour in
the field, and it may well be to a man with whom she
would be less happy than with this 'prentice lad; but
there, I need not be troubling myself about a matter
which is five or six years distant yet. Still the
thought that Edith is a ward of the crown, and that
her hand must go where the king wills, often troubles
me. However, I have a good friend in the queen, who
will, I know, exert what influence she has in getting
me a good husband for my child. But even for myself
I have some fears, since the king hinted, when last he
saw me, that it was time I looked out for another i
mate, for that the vassals of Westerham and Hydej
needed a lord to lead them in the field. However, 1 1
hope that my answer that they were always at his ser- j
vice under the leading of my cousin James will suffice
for him. Now, what am I to do in that matter? Who|
would have thought that he so coveted my lands that
he would have slain me and Edith to possess himself!
of them? His own lands are thrice as broad as mine,[
though men say that he has dipped deeply into them
and owes much money to the Jews. He is powerful!
and has many friends, and although Earl Talbot woulJj
stand by me, yet the unsupported word of an apprenj
tice boy were but poor evidence on which to charges!
powerful baron of such a crime as this. It were besl|

geokfrky's suggestion.

methinks, to say nought about it, hut to hury the
thought in my own heart. Nevertheless, I will not
fail to take the precaution which the lad advised, and
to let Sir James know that there are some who have
knowledsre of his handiwork. I hear he crosses the
seas to-morrow to join tho army, and it may be long
ere he return. 1 shall have plenty of time to consider
how 1 had best shape my conduct towards him on his
return; but assuredly he shall never be friendly with
me again, or frighten Edith with his kisses."

"Well, Walter, has it been such a dreadful business
as you expected?" the armourer asked the lad when
he re-entered the shop. " The great folks have not
eaten you at any rate."

"It has not been dreadful," Walter replied with a
smile, "though I own that it was not pleasant when I
first arrived at the great mansion; but the lady put me
quite at my ease, and she talked to me for some time,
and finally she bestowed on me this chain, which our
lady, the queen, had herself given her."

"It is a knight's chain and a heavy one," Geoffrey
said, examining it, "of Genoese work, I reckon, and
worth a large sum. It will buy you harness when you
go to the wars."

'I would rather fight in the thickest melde in a cloth
j doublet," Walter said indignantly, "than part with a
iHingle link of it."

"I did but jest, Walter," Geoffrey said laughing;
"but as you will not sell it, and you cannot wear it,
you had best give it me to put aside in my strong
[coffer until you get of knightly rank."

"Lady Vernon said," the lad replied, "that she hoped
lone day it might again belong to a knight; and if I
[live," he added firmly, "it shall."

(204) ■

ij I

f "1 ',

ENCOURAGEMENT.

"Oh I she ha,s been putting these ideas into your
head; nice notions truly for a London apprentice! I
shall be laying a complaint before the lord mayor
against Dame Vernon, for unsettling the mind of my
apprentice, and setting him above his work. And the
little lady, what said she? Did she give you her
colours and bid you wear them at a tourney?"

Walter coloured hotly.

"Ah! I have touched you," laughed the armourer;
"come now, out with the truth. My lad," he added
more gravely, "there is no shame in it; you know that
I have always encouraged your wishes to be a soldier,
and have done my best to render you as good a one as
any who draws sword 'neath the king's banner, and
assuredly I would not have taken all these pains with
you did I think that you were al v ays to wear an iron
cap and trail a pike. I too, lad, hope some day to see
you a valiant knight, and have reasons that you wot
not of, for my belief that it will be so. No man rises
to rank and fame any the less quickly because he
thinks that bright eyes will grow brighter at his
success."

" But, Geoffrey, you are talking surely at random.
The Lady Edith Vernon is but a child; a very beautiful
child," he added reverently, "and such that when she
grows up, the bravest knight in England might be
proud to win. What folly for me, the son of a city
bowyer, and as yet but an apprentice, to raise mine
eyes so high!"

" The higher one looks the higher one goes," the
armourer said sententiously. " You aspire some day to
become a knight, you may well aspire also to win the
hand of Mistress Edith Vernon. She is five years
younger than yourself, and you will be twpnty-two

THE CALSES OF THE WAR.

when she is seventeen. You have time to make your
way yet, and I tell you, though why it matters nut,
that I would rather you set your heart on winning
Mistress Edith Vernon than any other heiress of broad
lands in merry England. You have saved her life,
and so have made the first step and a long one. Be
ever brave, gerftle, and honourable, and, I tell you, you
need not despair; and now, lad, we have already lost
too much time in talking; let us to our work."

That evening Walter recalled to GeofiVey his promise
to tell him the causes which had involved England in
so long and bloody a war with France.

"It is a tangled skein," Geoflrey said, "and you
must follow me carefully. First, with a piece of chalk
I will draw upon the wall the pedigree of the royal
line of France from Phillip downwards, and then you
will see how it is that our King Edward and Phillip of
Valois came to be rival claimants to the throne of

France.

Piiiu.rp,
King uf France.

I
Phtt.mp i.f Rel,
King of France.

LE liUTXIf.

Phti.i.tp

LU LONO.

CHAnr.KS

ISABEIXA,

Queen
of England.

Edward III.

ClIARI.En,

Cmitlt
of Valois.

I
Phillip,

Count
of Valois.

In :

Now, you see that our King Edward is nephew of
Cliarles le Bel, the last King of France, while Phillip
of Valois is only nephew of Phillip le Bel, the father
of Charles. Edward is consequently in the direct line,
and had Isabella been a man instead of a woman
his right to the throne would be unquestionable.

ii!

THE SAMC LAW.

■i

In France, however, there is a law called the 'Salic'
law, which exclu 'ss feuK :e.s from the throne; but it is
jiiaintalnf ' ' / ri. v/ 1. .. m1 n the la.v, that althoui'li
a female is hel<l o \m incompetent to reign because
from her sex sh^ civnno*/ k;ad her armies to battle, yet
she no ways forfeits otherwi her rights, and that her
son is therefore the heir to the throne. If this con-
. tention, which is held by all English jurists, and by
many in France also, bo well founded, Edward is tho
rightful King of France. Phillip of Valois contends
that the 'Salic law' not only bars a female from
ascending the throne, but also destroys all her rights,
and that the succession goes not to her sons but to the
next heir male; in which case, of course, Phillip is
rightful king. It is not for me to say which view is
the right one, but certainly the great majority of those
who have been consulted have decided that, accordint;
to ancient law and usage, the right lies with Edward.
But in these matters 'right is not always might.' Ha I
Isabella married a French noble instead of an Enirl.sh
king it is probable that her son's claims to the throjjo
would have been allowed without dispute, but her son
is King of England, and the French nobles prefer being
ruled by one of themselves to becoming united with
England under one kinjj.

"At the time of the death of the last king, Edw".rd
was still but a boy under the tuition of his mother,
Phillip was a man, and upon the spot, therefore he was
able to win support by his presence and promises, and
so it came that the peers of France declared Phillip of
Valois to be their rightful monarch. Here in Englami,
at a parliament held at Northampton, the rights of
Edward were discussed and asserted, and the Bishops
of Worcester and Coventry were despatchvid to Paris

9 mother,
,re he was

■nises, aivl

EDWAI'IJS DILEMMA. 09

to protest ;i ainst the validity of Philip'b nomination.
i^s, hr<vvevur, the country v'?.s not in a position to
enforce the claim of their young king by arms, Phillip
became firmly seated as King of France, and having
shown great energy in at once marching against and
repressing the people of Flanders, who were in a state
of rebellion against their count, one of the feudatories
of the French crown, the nobles were well satisfied
with their choice, and no question as to his right was
ever henceforth raised in France. As soon as the
rebellion in Flanders was crushed, Phillip summoned
the King of England to do homage for Aquitaine,
Ponthieu and Montreuil, fiefs held absolutely from
the crown of France. Such a proceeding placed
Edward and his council in a great embarrassment. In
case of a refusal the whole of the possessions of the
crown in France might be declared forfeited and be
seized, while England was in no condition to defend
them; on the other hand, the fact of doing homage
to Phillip of Valois would be a sort of recognition of his
right to the throne he had assumed. Had Edward
then held the reins of power in his hands, there can
be little doubt that he would at once have refused,
and would have called out the whole strength of Eng-
land to enforce his claim. The influence of Isabella
and Mortimer was, however, all powerful, and it was
agreed that Edward should do homage as a public act,
making a private reservation in secret to his own
councillors, taking exception to the right of Phillip.

" Edward crossed to France and journej-ed to Amiens,
where Phillip with a brilliant court awaited him, and
on the appointed day they appeared together in the
cathedral. Here Edward, under certain protestations, did
homage for his French estates, leaving certain terms

K-^

■^

In i
Pi; i

THE TOUUNAMEXT AT WESTCIIEAPE.

I I

and questions open for the consideration of his council,
l^or some time the matter remained in this shupu; but
lionest men cannot but admit that King Edward did,
by his action at the time, acknowledge Phillip to be
Iving of France, and that lie became his vassal for hi.v
estates there; but, as has happened scores of times before,
and will no doubt happen scores of times again, vassals,
when they become powerful enough, throw otl* their
allegiance to their feudal superiors, and so the time
came to King Edward.

"After the death of Mortimer and the imprisonment
of Isabella, the king gave rein to his taste for militaiy
sports. Tournaments were held at Dartford and otlitr
places, one in Westcheape. What a sight was that,
to be sure! For three days the king, with fourteen of
his knights, held the list against all comers, and in thu
sight of the citizens and the ladies of the court, jousted
with knights who came hither from all parts of Europe.
I was there each day and the sight was a grand one,
though England was well-nigh thrown into mourninj^
by an accident which took place. The gallery in which
the queen and her attendants were viewing the sports
had been badly erected, and in the height of the con-
tests it gave way. The queen and her ladies woru
in great peril, being thrown from a considerable heiglit,
and a number of persons were severely injured. The
king, who was furious at the danger to which the
queen had been exposed, would have hung upon the
spot the master workman whose negligence had caused
the accident, but the queen went on her knees before
him and begsred his life of the kinj;. The love of
Edward for warlike exercises caused England to be
regarded as the most chivalrous court in Europe, and
the frequent tournaments aroused to the utmost the

THE STOUY CUT bllOllT.

spirits of the people and prepared them for the war
with France. But ot* the events of that war I will tell
you some other night It is time now for us to betake
us to our beds."

*^^

CIIAITER V.

TUE CITY GAMES.

HE next evening the armourer, at Walter's
request, continued his narrative.

" Soon after the tournament we began to
fight again with Scotland. For some years
we had had peace with that country, aiul
under the regency a marriage was made between David,
King of Scotland, son of Robert the Bruce, with the
Princess Joan, sister to our king, and a four years'
truce was agreed to."

"But why should we always be fighting with Scot-
land?" Walter asked.

"That is more than 1 can tell you, Walter. We were
peaceful enough with them until the days of EdwanI
I.; but he set up some claim to the throne of Scotland,
the rights of which neither I nor anyone else, so far as
1 know, have ever been able to make out. The fact
was he was strong, and thought that he could conquer
Scotland. The quarrels between her nobles — most of
them were allied by blood with our own and held pos-
sessions in both kingdoms — gave Edward an excuse lo
interfere. Scotland was conquered easily enough, but
it was a hard task to hold it. Sir William Wallace
kept the country in a turmoil for many years, licing

1. 'ii

THE WAUS WITH SCOTLAND.

joined by all the common people. He inflicted one
heavy defeat ui)on us at ytirlinjjf, but receiving,' no
support from the nobles he was defeated at Falkirk,
and some years afterwards was captured and executed
here. His head you nmy see any day over London
Bridge. As ho fought only for his country and had
ever refused allegiance to our king, it seems to me that
his fate was a cruel one. Then when all appeared
quiet, Robert Bruce raised Scotland again and was
crowned king. There was war for many years, but at
last, at Eannockburn he inflicted such a defeat upon
us as we have never had before. After that there
were skirmishes and excursions, but Edward II. was a
weak prince, and it seemed that the marriage of David
and the Princess Joan would bring about a permanent
peace between the two countries ; but it was not to be
so.

" Many of the English nobles held claims by marriage
or grants upon lands in Scotland. They had, of course,
been driven from these when the English were turned
out by Bruce. By the terms of the marriage treaty in
1328 it was agreed that they should be reinstated. It
was a foolish clause, because it was plain that the King
of Scotland could not take these lands again from the
Scotch nobles who had possession of them, many of
them being well-nigh as powerful as himself. At this
time Edward Buliol, son of ^he great rival of Robert
lliuce, was in England. He ^till claimed the throne'
of Scotland as his right. Round him gathered a
number of the English nobles .vho claimed lands in
Scotland. The kinj; offered no hindrance to the
<,'athering of this force, for I doubt not that he was
,L,'lad to see dissension in Scotland, which might give
liim some such pretext for interference as that which

I ,,

!■ i ,1 !

.'I 1

I511LUE AND JJALIOL.

^■1^:

Edward I. had seized to possess hiinseli' of that country.
At lirst Baliol was succussiul and was crowned at Scone,
but he was presently defeated and driven out of Scot-
land. The Scots now made an eruption across the
frontier as a retaliation for Edward's having permitted
E'liiol to gather a force here for his war against Bruce.
King Edward was on the point of starting for Ii-eiand,
and he at once hastened north. He defeated the Scots
at Halidon Hill, captured Berwick, and placed Baliol
upon the throne. Bruce lied to France, where he was
jupported and encouraged by the French king.

"The ill feeling bitween Edward and Phillip of
Valois had gone on increasing ever since the former h;ul
been compelled to cake the oath of allegiance to the
latter, but outwardly the gui.<e of friendship was kept
up, and negotiations went on between the two couits
for a marriage between the little Prince of Wales and
Joanna, daughter of the French king.

"The aid which Phillip gave to Bruce increased the
bad feeling, and Edward retaliated for Phillip's
patronage of Bruce by receiving with the greatest
honour and courtesy Robert of Artois, a great feudatory
of France, who had been banished by King Phillip.
For a time, although both countries were preparing for
war, peace was not broken, as Edward's hands were full
in Scotland, where Baliol having bestowed innnensc
possessions upon the English nobles who had assisted
him, the country again rose in favour of Bruce. Duriiii,'
the three years that followed King Edward was ob-
liged several times to go to Scotland to support
Baliol, who held the crown as his feudal vassal. He
was always successful in the field, but directly his
army recrossed the frontier the Scotch rose again. In
W.\0 a new crusade was preached, and in October ot

Duntry.
, Scone,
,f Scot-
OSS the
riuitted
b Bruce.
Ireland,
lie Scots
d Baliol
3 he was

i'lillip of
riuer hinl
;e to tlie
was kept
wo courts
Vales and

cased the

Phillip's

greatest
feudatory
_ Phillip. I
paring for
s were inW

inunense
ad assisted
ze. Durini,'
rd was ob-
to support

assal. He
llirectly his

Lgain. 1"

October of

PlULLll' COLLECTS AN ARMY.

that year King Phillip solemnly received the cross and
collected an immense army nominally for the recovery
of Jerusalem. Whether his intentions "'»re honest or
not I cannot say, but cei-tainly King Edward con-
sidered that Phillip's real aim in creating so great an
ariny Wfis to attack England. Whether this was so or
not would need a wiser head than mine, Walter, to tell.
Ceitainly Phillip of Valois invited Edward to co-
operate with him in the crusade. The king in reply
stated his belief that the preparations were intended
for war in Europe rather than in Asia; but that if the
Kin'jf of France would agree to conclude a tirm league
of amity between the two countries, to restore the
castles and towns of Aquitaine, whose surrender had
been f"e(iuently promised but never carried out, and
would bind himself by oath to give no assistance, direct
or indirect, to Scotland, he would join him in his war
for the delivery of the Holy Land.

"I must sav that King Edward's demands were
reasonable, for '*". was clear that he could not march
away from England with his whole force and leave
Baliol unsupported against the assaults of his Scotch
ononiies, aided by France. Phillip was willing to
accede to the first two conditions; but in regard to the
third positively declined treating until David Bruce
should be restored to the throne of his father. Now, had
the French king cpenly supported Bruce from the first,
none could have said that his conduct in befriendino; a
dethroned monarch was aught but noble and generous;
hut he had all along answered Edward's complaints
of the aid afforded by Frenchmen to the Bruce by
denials that he himself supported him; and this
declaration in his favour now certainly seemed to show
that he had at last determined openly to throw oti' the

> . HI

1 1;
ii;

f|i

l!!

THE VOW ON THE IIKISON.

veil, and that liis great army was really collected
against England. Robert ot* Artois craftily seized a
moment when the king's indignation against Pliillip
was at the highest. At a great banquet held by KinL;-
Edward, at which all his warlike nobles were present,
Robert entered, preceded by two noble maidens carry-
ing a heron, which, as you know, Walter, is considered
the most cowardly of birds. Then in loud tones lie
called upon the knights present each to swear on the
bird to perform some deed of chivalrous daring. Fii'st
he presented it to King Edward himself, giving him
to understand that he regarded him but as little braver
than the heron for resigning without a blow the fair
heritage of France.

"The moment was well chosen, for Edward was smart-
ing under the answer he had jusc received from Phillip.
He at once 'ose and took an uath to enter France in
arms; to wait there a month in order to give Phillip
time to offer him battle, and to accept the combat, even
should the French outnumber him ten to one. Every
knight present followed the example of the king, and
so the war with France, which had been for years a
mere question of time, was at last suddenly decided
upon. You yourself, Walter, can remember the pre-
parations which were made througliout England: men
were enrolled and arms prepared. We armourers were
busy night and day, and every man felt that his own
honour, as well as that of the country, was concerned
in winning for King Edward the heritage of which he
had been unlawfully robbed by the King of France.

"On the 17th of March, 1337, at the parliament at
Westminster, the king created the little prince, then
seven years of age, Jl)uke of Cornwall; and the prince
immediately, in e.xercise of his new dignity, bestownl

GIIEAT r.HEPARATIONS.

< I

Upon twenty of the most distinguished aspirants the
honour ot* knighthood. Immense supplies were voted
by the parliaments held at Nottingham, Westminster,
and Northampton. Half the wool shorn in the summer
following was granted to the king, with a variety of
other taxes, customs, and duties. The revenues of all
the foreign priories in England, a hundred and ten in
number, were appropriated to the crown. Provisions
of bacon, wheat, and oats were granted, and the king
pawned his own jewels, and even the crown itself, to
hire soldiers, and purchase him allies on the Continent.
So great did the scarcity of money become in the coun-
try that all goods fell to less than half their value.
Thus a vast army was raised, and with this Kinj^^
Edward prepared to try his strength with France.

" Phillip on his part was making great preparations.
While Edward had purchased the assistance of many
of the German nobles Phillip raised large armaments
in the maritime states of Italy. Spain also contributed
a number of naval adventurers, and squadrons were
fitted out by his vassals on the sea-coasts of Normandy,
Brittany, and Picardy. King Edward had crossed over
into Belgium, and after vast delays in consequence of
the slowness of the German allies, at last prepared to
enter France at the end of September, 1.339. Such, my
lad, is the story, as far as I know, of the beginning of
thiit war with France which is now rajjinjT, and whose
events you know as well as I do, seeing that they are
all of late occurrence. So far, although the EnixHsh
have had the best of it, and have sorely mauled the
French both in the north and south, we have not
gained any such advantages as would lead to a belief
that there is any likelihood of an early termina-
tion, or that King Edward will succeed for a long

i :

i, '

I ' !

war's COMl'ENSATIONS.

time in winning back his inheritance of the throne of
France,

"There is no doubt that the war weighs heavily upon
the people at large. The taxes are doubled, and thu
drain of men is heavy. We armourers, of course, ha\ e
a busy time of it, and all trades which have to d(j
with the furnishing of an army flourish excoedingly.
Moreover, men of metal and valour have an opportunity
of showing what they are composed of, and England
rings with the tales of martial deeds. There are some,
Walter, who think that peace is the greatest of bless-
ings, and in some ways, lad, they are no doubt right;
but there are many compensations in war It brings
out the noble qualities; it raises men to think that
valour and fortitude and endurance and honour are
qualities which are something above the mere huckster-
ing desire for getting money, and for ignoble ease and
comfort. Some day it may be that the world will
change, and that war may become a thing of the past;
but to my mind, boy, I doubt whether men will be any
happier or better for it. The priests, no doubt, would
tell you otherwise ; but then you see I am an armourer,
and so perhaps am hardly a fair judge on the matter,
seeing that without wars my craft would come to an
end."

Walter remained in thouofht for some time. "It
seems to me. Master Geoffrey, that while wars may suit
strong and courageous men, women would rejoice were
such thiiicrs to be at an end."

' Women suffer most from wars, no doubt," Geoffrey
said, " and yet do you mark that they are more stirred
hy de* (Is of valour and chivalry than are we men; that
they are ever voj^dy to bestow their love upon thoso
who have won honour and glory in war, even althoujrl

ly upon
tnd the
36, have
e to do
edingly.
ortunity
England
tre some,
of bless-
bt rigbt;
It brings
link tluit
anour arc
huckstev-
e ease ami
vorld will
f the past;
vill be any
ubt, would
1 arinouvci,
the matter,
come to an

THE ARMOUUEKS I'KoriiEUY. 79

tlio noxt battle may leave them widows. This has been
always somewhat of a marvel to me; but I suppose
that it is human nature, and that admiration for deeds
of valour and bravery is in'^rained in the heart of man,
and will continue until ?uch times come that the desire
for wealth, which is ever on the increase, has so seized
ill! men that they will look with distaste upon every-
thing which can interfere with the making of money,
and will regard the man who amasses gold by trading
as a higher type than he who does vuliant deeds in
battle."
" Surely that can never be," Walter said indignantly.
"There is no saying," the armourer answered; "at
anyrate, Walter, it will matter little to you or to me,
for many generations must pass before such a state of
things 3an come about."

Two days later Walter, v/ho had been across into
the city, returned in a state of excitement.

"Wiiat do you think, (jieofl'roy? The king, with the
Prince of Wales and all his court, are coming to the
games next month. They say that the king himself
will adjudge the prizer.; and there is to be a grand
assault-at-arms between ten of tlie 'prentices with n,
captain, and an equal number of sons of nobles and
knights."

" That will be rare," Geoffrey Ward exclaimed ; " but
there will be some broken limbs, and maybe worse.
These assaults-at-arms seldom end without two or three
being killed. However, you youngsters will not hit as
hard as trained knights; and if the armour be good,
no great damage should be done."

"Do you think that I shall be one of the ten?"
Walter asked anxiously.
" Just as if you did not know you would," Geoffrey

t-\

i !

1 1

' Ml

1^ i !

■s':

■f'l I

i .

THE CITY SrOHTS.

replied, laughing. " Did you not win the prize for sword
play last year ? and twelve months have added much
to the strength of your arm, to say nothing of your
skill with weapons. If you win this year again — and
it will be strange if you do not — you are like enough
to be chosen captain. You will have tough fightiuif,
I can tell you, for all these young aspirants to knight-
hood will do their best to show themselves off before
the king and queen. The fight is not to take place on
horseback, I hopt ; for if so, it well be settled as soon
as it be<>ins."

" No, it is to be on foot; and the king himself is to
give orders as to the tijjhtinjj."

"You had best get out that helmet and coat of mail of
yours," Geoffrey said, "I warrant me that there will be
none of finer make or of truer metal in the tourney,
seeing that I made them specially for you. They are
light, and yet strong enough to withstand a blow from
the strongest arm. I tried them hard, and will warrant
them proof, but you had best see to the rivets and
fastenings. They had a rough handling last year, ami
you have not worn them since. There are some other
pieces that 1 must put in hand at once, seeing that in
such a meMe you must be covered from head to foot'"

For the next week nothing was talked of in London
but the approaching sports, and the workmen were
already engaged in the erection of the lists and
pavilions in the fields between the walls and West-
minster. It was reported that the king would adl
valuable prizes to those given to the winners by tlie
city; that there would be jousting on horseback by
the sons of the court nobles, and that the young Prince
of Wales would himself ride.

The king had once before taken part in the city

were cr

• swonl
L much
)f your
n — and
enough

knigVit-
tl' before
place on
1 as soon

of mail oi
;re will be
e tourney,
They are
blow from
ill warrant
rivets an^l
t year, and
some other
jing that in
id to foot.'
' in London
•kmen wei»
e lists au'l
; and West-
would ad'l
iners by tl'*^
lorseback V
yroung Prinw

r.EYOND THE WALLS.

sports, and with ten of the citizens had held his own
against an equal number of knights. This was at the
commencement of his reign; but the acciilent to the
queen's stand had so angered him that he had not again
been present at the sports, and his reappearance now
was considered to be an act of approval of the efforts
,,hich the city have made to aid him in the war, and
as an introduction of the young prince to the citizens.
When the day arrived there was a general flocking
out of the citizens to the lists. The scene was a pictur-
esque one ; the weather was bright and warm ; the fields
were green; and Westminster, as well as London, sent
out large numbers to the scene. The citizens were all
in their best; their garments were for the most part of
sober colours — russet, murrey, brown, and gray. Some,
indeed, of the younger and wealthier merchants adopted
somewhat of the fashion of the court, wearing their
shoes long and pointed, and their garments parti-
coloured. The line of division was down the centre of
the body; one leg, arm, and half the body would be
bUie, the other half russet or brown. The ladies' dresses
were similarly divided. Mingling with the citizens, as
tliey strolled to and fro upon the sward, were the
courtiers. These wore the brightest colours, and their
shoes were so long that the points were looped up to
the knees with little gold chains to enable them to
walk. The ladies wore head-dresses of prodigious
height, culminating in two points; and from these fell,
sweeping to the ground, streamers of silk or lighter
inat(!iial. Cloths of gold and silver, rich furs, silks,
and velvets, were worn both bv men and women.

None who saw the nobles of the court walking in
garments so tight that they could scarce move, with
their long parti -coloured hose, their silk hoods but-

(»»)

I •■

rii

'I-

A VAIUED THRONO.

illHiCil!...!

toned under the chin, their hair braided down their
back, would have thought that these were the most
warlike and courageous of knights, men whose personal
prowess and gallantry were the admiration of Europe.
Their hair was generally cut close upon the forehead,
and the beard was suflered to grow, but was kept
trimmed a moderate length. Many of the ladies had
the coat-of-arms of their family embroidered upon
their dresses, giving them the appearance of heralds'
tabards. Almost all wore gold or silver girdles, with
embroidered pouches, and small daggers.

Thus, the appearance of the crowd who moved about
among the fields near the lists was varied and brilliant
indeed. Their demeanour was quiet, for the London
merchants deemed a grave demeanour to belong to
their calling, and the younger men and apprentices
rest)ii,r?ed their spirits in the presence of their super-
iors, i'^or their special amusement, and in order, per-
haps, to keep them from jostling too freely against
the court gallants and ladies, the city authorities had
appointed popular sports such as pleased the rougher
classes; and bull-baiting, cock-fighting, wrestling for a
ram, pitching the bar, and hand-ball, were held in a
field some distance away. Here a large portion of
the artisans and apprentices amused themselves until
the hour when the king and queen were to arrive at
their pavilion, and the contests were to commence.

Presently a sound of trumpets was heard, and the
royal procession was seen moving up from Westminster.
Then the minor sports were abandoned; the crowd
gathered round the large fenced-in space, and those
who, by virtue of rank or position in the city, had
places in the various stanus, took their places there.

There wa.s a flourish of trumpets as the king and

king ii

THE OI'ENINfi OF THE SPOKTS.

queen appeared in front of their pavilion, accotn-
punied by the Prince of Wales and many of the iiobios
of the court, and a shout of welcome arose from tlie
crowd. The shooting at a mark at once began. The
preliminary trials had been shot off upon the preceding
day, and the six chosen bowmen now took their
places.

Walter had not entered for the prizes at archery.
He had on previous years shot well; but since he had
fully determined to become a man-at-arms he had
given up archery, for which, indeed, his work at the
forge and his exercises at arms when the fires were out,
left him but little time. The contest was a close one,
and when it was over iV.a winner was led by the city
marshal to the royal pavilion, where the queen bestowed
upon him a silver arrow, and the king added a purse
of money. Then there were several combats with
quarter-staff and broadsword between men who had
served among the contingents sent by the city to aid the
king in his wars. Some good sword-play was shown
and many stout blows exchanged, two or three men
were badly hurt, and the king and all present were
miyhtily pleased with the stoutness with which they
foui^dit.

The apprentices then came forward to compete for
the prizes for sword-play. They wore light iron caps
and shirts of thickly quilted leather, and fought with
lilunted swords, for the city fathers deemed wisely
that with these weapons they could equally show their
skill, and that with sharpened swords not only would
severe wounds be given, but bad blood would be
created between the apprentices of the various wards.
Each ward sent its champion to the contest, and as
these fought in pairs, loud was the shouting which

" i

'd '

'}\

THE 'pRRNTICrs' SWORD-PI.AY.

rose from their comrades at each blow given or
warded, and even the older citizens joined sometimes
in the shouting and took a warm interest in the cham-
pions of their respective wards.

The iron caps had stout cheek-pieces which defended
the sides of the face and neck, for even a lilunted
sword can deliver a terrible blow if it fall upon the
naked flesh. It took a long time to get through tlio
combats; the pairs were drawn by lot, and fought until
the king decided which was the superior. Some were
speedily beaten, at other times the contests were lon<;
and severe. It was generally thought by the appren-
tices that the final contest lay between Walter FletcluM'
of Aldgate and Ralph Smith of Ludgate. The former
was allowed to be superior in the use of his weapon,
but the latter was also skilful, was two years older,
and greatly superior in strength. lie had not taken
part in the contest in the preceding year, ewi he hml
been laid up with a hurt in his hand which he had got
in his employnjent as a smith, and the lads of Ludgate
were confident that he would turn the tables upon the
champion of the eastern ward. Both had defeated
with ease the various opponents whom they had met,
but it chanced that they had not drawn together until
the last round, when they remained alone to struggle
for the fivst and second prizes.

The interest in the struggle had increased with each
round, and wagers were freely laid upon the result,
According to custom the two champions had laid aside
their leathern shirts and had donned mail armour, for
it was considered that the crowning contest between
the two picked young swordmen of the city would be
a severe one, and greater protection to the limbs was
needed.

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A WAGER.

Before taking their places they were led up to the
royal pavilion, where they were closely inspected by
the king and his nobles.

"You are sure that this man is still an apprentice?"
the king asked the Lord Mayor, who was seated next
to hitn ; " he has the appearance of a man-at-arms, and
a stout one too; the other is a likely stripling, and is,
its I have seen, marvellously dexterous with his sword,
but he is but a boy while the other is a grown man."

" He is an apprentice, my liege, although his time
will be up in a few days, while the other has yet three
years to serve, but he works for an armourer, and is
lamed through the city, boy as he is, for his skill with
weapons."

After a few words to each, exhorting them to do their
best in the sight of the queen and her ladies, the king
di-^missed them.

" I know the young one now!" the Prince of Wales
said, clapping his hands as the apprentices turned away
to take their places. " My Lord Talbot, I will wager
a gold chain with you upon the smaller of the two."

" I will take your wager," the noble answered; " but
I am by no means sure that I shall win it, for I ha ve
watched your champion closely, and the downright
blows which he struck would seem to show that he has
the muscle and strength of a man though still but a
boy."

The event justified the Prince of Wales's confidence;
at the commencement of the struggle Ralph S nith tried
to beat down his opponent by sheer strengtli as ho had
done his prior opponents, but to his surprise he found
that all his efforts could not break down his opponent's
guard. Walter indeed did not appear to take advan-
tage of his superior lightness and activity, but to prefer

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THE FINAL COXIEST.

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to prove that in strength as well as skill he was equal
to his antagonist. In the latter respect there was
no comparison, for as soon as the smith began to relax
his rain of blows Walter took the offensive and with a
sweeping blow given with all his strength broke down
his opponent's guard and smote him with such force
upon his steel cap that, blunted as the sword was, it
clove through the iron, and stretched the smith sense-
less on the ground. A loud shout broke from the
assemblage. The marshal came up to Walter, and
removing his helmet, led him to the royal pavilion,
while Ralph was carried to a tent near, where a leech
attended to his wound.

:ll-!!

•^^•.

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:M I

Mi lip

CHAPTER VL

THE m£:l^e.

OU have won your prize stoutly and well,
sir 'prentice," the king said. " I should not
have deemed it possible that one of your
age could have smitten such a blow, and
right glad should I be of a few hundred
lads of your mettle to follow me against the French.
What is your calling? "
" I am an armourer, my liege," Walter answered.
" An you are as good at mending armour as you are
at marring it," the king said, "you will be a rare crafts-
man one of these days. 'Tis a rare pity so promising
a swordsman should be lost to our army. Wouldst
like to change your calling, boy, and take to that of

"It is my hope to do so, sir," Walter answered
modestly, "and his grace the Prince of Wales has
already promised me that I shall some day ride behind
him to the wars."

"Ah! Edward," the king ejaculated/* how is this?
Have you been already enlisting a troop for the
wars?"

" No, sir," the young prince replied, " but one day,
now some four years since, when I was riding with my

1 ■!!
ii

m'l

BESTOWING THE PRIZE.

■MV^

1l!i

Lord Talbot and others in the fields near the Tower I
did see this lad lead his play-t'ellows to the assault of
an earthen castle held by others, and he fought so well
and gallantly that assuredly no knight could have done
better, until he was at last stricken senseless, and when
he recovered I told him that should he choose to be a
man-at-anns I would enlist him in my following to the
wars."

The kin or laughed.

" I deemed not that the lads of the city indulged in
such rough sports; but 1 wonder not, seeing that the
contingent which my good city of London furnishes
me is ever one of the best in my army. We shall see
the lad at work again to-morrow and will then talk
more of it. Now let us bestow upon him the prize
that he has so well earned."

Walter bent on one knee, and the queen handed to
him a sword of the best Spanish steel, which was the
prize given by the city to the victor. The king handed
him a heavy purse of gold pieces, saying:

" This may aid in purchasing your freedom."

Walter bowed deeply and murmured some words of
thanks, and was then led off by the marshal. After
this many of the young nobles of the court jousted on
horseback, ran at the ring, and performed other feats
of knightly exercise to the great pleasure of the multi-
tude. The marshal on leading Walter away said to him,
" You will be captain of the city band to-morrow, and
I must therefore tell you what the king purports. He
has prepared a surprise for the citizens, and the present
ishow will be difierent to anything ever before seen in
London. Both to show them somewhat of the sieges
which are takmg place on the borders of France and
the Low Countries, in which Sir Walter Manjiy and

THE MIMIC CASTLE.

many other gallant knights have so greatly distin-
guished themselves, and as an exercise for the young
nobles, he has determined that there shall be a castle
erected. It will be built of wood, with battlements and
towers, with a moat outside. As soon as the lists are
over a large number of workmen will commence its
erection; the pieces are all sawn and prepared. There
will be machines, ladders, and other appliances. The
ten champions on either side will fight as knights; you
will have a hundred apprentices as men-at-arms, and
the court party will have an equal number of young
esquires. You, as winner of to-day's tourney, will have
the choice of defence or attack. I should advise you
to take the defence, since it is easier and requires less
knowledge of war, und many of the other party have
accompanied their fathers and masters in the field and
have seen real sieges carried out."

" Can you show me a plan of the castle," Walter said,
" if it be not contrary to the rules, in order that I may
think over to-night the plan of fighting to-morrow?"

" Here it is," the marshal said. " You see that the
walls are 200 feet long, they are 12 feet in height, with
a tower at the end and one over the gateway in the
centre six feet high. There is a drawbridge defended
by an outwork of palisades six feet high. The moat will
be a dry one, seeing that we have no means of filling
it with water, but it will be supposed to be full, and
must be crossed on planks or bridges. Two small
towers on wheels will be provided, which may be run
up to the edge of the moat, and will be as high as the
top of the towers."

" Surely they cannot make all this before morning?"
Walter said.

" They will do so," the marshal replied. " The castle

ii:!

^!i *'A

I'll 8

PL
i

j;:i|Bf!.v-'i; i

A RARE SrECTACLE.

has been put together in the king's court-yard, and the
pieces are all numbered. Two hundred carpenters will
labour all night at it, besides a party of labourers for
the digging of the moat. It will be a rare show, and
will delight both the citizens and the ladies of the
court, for such a thing has never before been attempted.
But the king grudges not the expense which it will
cost him, seeing that spectacles of this kind do much to
arouse the warlike spirit of the people. Here is a list
of the various implements which will be provided, only
it is understood that the mangonels and arblasts will
not be provided with missiles, seeing that many would
assuredly be killed by them. I'hey will be employed,
however, to show the nature of the work, and parties
of men-at-arms will be told off to serve them. Cross-
bow.i and airows will be used, but the weapons will be
blunted. You will see that theie are ladders, planks
for making bridges, long hooks for hauling men down
from the wall, beams for battering down the gate,
axes for cutting down the palisades, and all other wea-
pons. The ten who will serve under you as kniglits
have already lieen nominated, and the city will furnish
them with full armour. For the others, the apprentices
of each ward will choose sufficient representatives to
make up the hundred, who will fight as men-at-arms;
these will wear steel caps and breastpieces, with leather
jerkins, and vizors to protect their faces, for even a
blunted arrow or a wooden quarrel might well kill if it
struck true."

On leaving the marshal Walter joined Giles Fletcher
and Geoffrey Ward, who warmly congratulated him
upon his success. He informed them of the spectacle
which the king had prepared for the amusement of the
citizens on the morrow.

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ATTACK OR DEFEN'CE?

" In faith," Geoliiey said, " the idea is a good one,
and promises rare sport, but it will be rough, and we
may expect many broken limbs, for it will be no joke
to be thrown down with a ladder from a wall even
twelve feet high, and there will be the depth of the
moat besides."

" That will only be two feet/* Walter said, " for so it
is marked on the plan."

"And which do you mean io take, Walter, the
attack or the defence? Methinks the king has erred
somewhat in making the forces equal, for assuredly
the besiegers should outnumber the besieged by fully
three to one to give them a fair chance of success."

"I shall take the assault," Walter answered; "there
is more to be done that way than in the defence.
When we get home, Geoffrey, we will look at the
plans, and see what may be the best manner of
assault."

Upon examining the plan that evening they found
that the wall was continued at an angle at either end
for a distance of some twenty feet back so as to give a
postern gate behind each of the corner towers through
which a sortie might be made. Geoffrey and Walter
talked the matter over, and together contrived a plan
of operation for the following day.

" You will have one great advantage," Geoffrey said.
" The apprentices are all accustomed to the use of the
bow, while the young nobles will know but little of
that weapon; therefore your shooting will be far
straighter and truer, and even a blunt-headed arrow
drawn from the shoulder will hit so s' iiart a blow that
those on the wall will have difficulty in withstanding
them."

After the talk was ended Walter again crossed

iii

I - J

iPU

WALTER AND RALPH.

^!'. :,

:i!

London Bridge, and made his way to Ludgate, where
he found his late antagonist, whose head had been
plastered up, and was little the worse for the conflict.

"There is no ill-will between us, I hope," Walter
said, holding out his hand.

" None in the world," the young smith said frankly.

He was a good-tempered-looking young giant, with
closely-cropped hair, light-blue eyes, and a pleasant
but somewhat heavy face.

" My faith! but what a blow was that you gave me.
why, one would think that your muscles were made of
steel. I thought that I could hit a good downright
blow, seeing that 1 have been hammering at the anvil
for the last seven years; but strike as I would I could
not beat down your guard, while mine went down, as
if it had been a feather, before yours. I knew, directly
that I had struck the first blow, and felt how firm was
your defence, that it was all up with me, knowing that
in point of skill I had no chance whatever with you."

" I am glad to see that you bear no malice, Ealph,"
Walter said, " and hope that we shall be great friends
henceforth, that is, if j'ou will take me as such,
seeing that you are just out of your apprenticeship,
while I am not yet half through mine. But I have
come to talk to you about to-morrow. Have you heard
that there is to be a mimic siege?"

" I have heard about it," Ralph said. " The city is
talking of nothing else. The news was published at
the end of the sports. It will be rare fun, surely."

"It will be pretty rough fun," W^alter replied; "and
I should not be much surprised if some lives are lost;
but this is always so in a tournament; and if knights
and nobles are ready to be killed, we apprentices need
not fear to hazard our lives. But now as to to-morrow.

here
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id; "and

are lost;

knights
ices need

morrow.

THE WOODEN CASTLE.

I, as the winner to-day, am to be the leader of the
party, and you, as second, will of course be captain
under me. Now I want to explain to you exactly
what I propose to do, and to arrange with you as tc
your share in the iiusiness."

The young smith listened attentively to Waltei's
explanation, and, when he had done, exclaimed ad-
iiiiiingly: " Why, Walter, you seem to be made for a
guneral. How did it all come to you, lad? I should
never have thought of such a scheme."

"I talked it over with m^ master," Walter said,
" and the idea is his as much as mine. I wonder if it
will do."

"It is sure to do," the smith said enthusiastically.
" The castle is as good as taken."

The next day all London poured out to the scene of
the sports, and the greatest admiration and wonder
were expressed at the castle, which had risen, as if by
magic, in the night. It was built at one end of the
lists, which had been purposely placed in a hollow, so
that a great number of people besides those in the
pavilions could obtain a view from the surrounding
slopes. The castle was substantially built of heavy
timber painted gray, and looked at a little distance as
if constructed of stone. A flag floated from the central
tower, and the building looked so formidable that the
general opinion was freely expressed that the task of
the assailants, whoever they might be — for at present
this was unknown — was quite impos.sible. At ten
o'clock the king and his court arrived. After they
had taken their places the two bands, headed by their
leaders, advanced from the lower end of the lists, and
drew up in front of the royal pavilion. The leaders
took their places in front. Behind them stood the ten

I I

III

i| ; !

[f^

If ir

THK TWO COMrAXIES.

chosen followers, all of whom, as well as their chiefs,
were incased in full armour. Behind, on one side,
were 100 apprentices, on the other 100 esquires, all
attired as men-at-arms. The court party were led by
Clarence Aylmer, son of the Earl of Pembroke. His
companions were all young men of noble family, aspir-
ants for the order of knighthood. They were, for the
most part, somewhat older than the apprentices, but as
the latter consisted chiefly of young men nearly out of
their term the difference was not great. Walter's
armour was a suit which the armourer had con-
structed a year previously for a young knight who
had died before the armour could bo delivered.
Walter had wondered more than once why Geoffrey
did not endeavour to sell it elsewhere, for, although
not so decorated and inlaid as many of the suits of
Milan armour, it was constructed of the finest steel,
and the armourer had bestowed special care upon its
manufacture, as the young knight's father had long
been one of his best customers. Early that morning
Geoffi'ey had brought it to his room and had told him
to wear it instead of that lent by the city.

" But I fear it will get injured," Walter had urged.
" I shall not spare myself, you know, Geoffrey, and the
blows will be hard ones."

"The more need for good armour, Walter. These
city suits are made for show rather than use. You
may be sure that young Pembroke and his band will
fight their hardest rather than suffer defeat at the
hands of those whom they consider as a band of city
varlets."

Before issuing from the tent where he and his
companions had put on their mail Walter carefully
fastened in the front of his helmet a tiny gold bracelet.

!;l^:

TTIE kino's ADDUESS.

[Jpon taking their places before the pavilion the king
ordered the two leaders to advance, and aildressed
them and the multitude in the following words:

"Brave leaders, and you, my people, I have con-
trived the pastime to-day that I may show you on a
mimic scale the deeds which my brave soldiers are
called upon to perform in France. It is more spe-
cially suited for the combatants of to-day, since one
party have had but small opportunity of acquiring skill
on horseback. Moreover, I wish to teach the lesson
that fighting on foot is as honourable as fighting on
horseback, for it has now been proved, and sometimes
to our cost, in Scotland, that footmen can repulse even
the bravest chivalry. To-day each party will fight his
best. Remember that, even in the heat of conflict,
matters must not be carried to an extreme. Those cut
off from their friends will be accounted prisoners, ass
will those who, being overpowered, throw down their
arms. Any wounded on either side will not be accounted
as prisoners, but may retire with honour from the field.
You," he said, looking at Walter, " as the conqueror of
yesterday, have the choice of either the attack or de-
fence; but I should advise you to take the latter, see-
ing that it is easier to defend a fortress than to assault
it. Many of your opponents have already gained credit
in real warfare, while you and your following are new
to it. Therefore, in order to place the defence on fair
terms with the assault, I have ordered that both sides
sliall be equal in numbers."

" If your liege will permit me," Walter said, bowing,
" I would fain take the assault. Methinks that, with
my following, I could do better thus than in defence."

The king looked somewhat displeased.

"As you will," he said coldly; " but I fear that this

/•

THE yUEKN OF THE TOLUXEY.

■ 1

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will somewhat mar the effect of tlio spectacle, seeing
that you will have no chance whatever against an
equal force, more accustomed to war than your party,
and occupying so superior a position. However," he
went on, seeing that Walter made no sign of changing
his mind, " as you have chosen, so be it; and now it is
for you to choose the lady who shall be queen of the
tourney and shall deliver the prizes to the victors.
Look round you ; there are many fair faces, and it is
for you to choose among them."

Smiles passed between many of the courtly dames
and ladies at the choice that was to be made among
them by the apprentice lad ; and they thought that he
would be sorely puzzled at such a duty. Walter, how-
ever, did not hesitate an instant. He ran his eye over
the crowd of ladies in the royal gallery, and soon saw
the object of his search.

" Since I have your majesty's permission," he said,
" I choose, as queen of the tournament. Mistress Edith
Vernon."

There was a movement of surprise and a general
smile. Perhaps to all who thought that they had a
chance of being chosen the selection was a relief, as
none could be jealous of the pretty child, who, at the
king's order, made her way forward to the front, and
took her sekt in a chair placed between the king and
queen. The girl coloured brightly; but she hail
heard so much of tourneys and jousts that she knew
what was her duty. She had been sitting far back on
the previous day, and the apprentice, when brought
up before the king, was too far below for her to see
his features. She now recognized him.

"Sir Knights," she said in a loud, clear, childish
voice, " you will both do your duty to-day and show

EDITH S (JAdR.

yourselves worthy cavaliera Methinks that, as queen
of the tourney, 1 should be neutral between you, but
as one of you carries my gage in liis helm, my good
wisheH must needs go with him; but bright eyes will
be Hxed on you both, and may well stir you to deeds
of valour."

So saying, she resumed her seat with a pretty air of
dignity.

" Why, sweetheart," the king said, " how is it that
this 'prentice lad knows your name, and how is it that
he wears your gage, for I know that the young Pem-
broke wears the glove of the Earl of Surrey's daughter?"

" He saved my life, sir, mine and my mother's," the
child said, "and I told him he should he my true
knight, and gave him my bracelet, which you see he
wears in his helm."

"1 recall somewhat of the story," the king said, "and
will question my Lady Vernon further anon; but see,
the combatants are tiling off to their places."

With flags flying and trumpets blowing young Pem-
broke led his forces into the castle. Each of his ten
knights was followed by an esquire bearing his banner,
and each had ten men-at-arms under his immediate
Older. Two of them, with twenty men, remained in
the outwork beyond the drawbridge. The rest took
their station on the walls and towers, where a platform
had been erected running along three feet below the
battlements. The real men-at-arms with the machines
of war now advanced, and for a time worked the ma-
chines, which made pretence at casting great stones
and missiles at the walls. The assailants then moved
forward and, unslinging their bows, opened a heavy
fire of arrows at the defenders, who, in turn, replied
with arrows and cross-bows.

(204) o

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THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE SIEGE.

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"The 'prentices shoot well," the king said; "by our
lady, it would bo hot work for the defenders were the
shafts but pointeil! Even as it is the knocks must be
no child's play, for the arrows, although not pointed,
are all tipped with iron, without which, indeed, straight
shooting would be iinpossible."

The return tire from the walls was feeble, and the
king said, laughing, "So far your knight, fair mistress,
has it all his own way. 1 did not reckon sufficiently
upon the superiority of shooting of the London lads,
and, indeed, I know not that I ought not in fairness
to order some of the defenders off the walls, '^eeing,
that in warfare, their numbers would be rapidly
thinned. See, the assailants are moving up the two
towers under shelter of the tire of the archers."

By this time Aylmer, seeing that his followers
could make no effectual reply to the arrow fire, had
ordered all, save the leaders in full armour, to lie down
behind the parapet. The assailants now gathered
thickly round each tower, as if they intended to attempt
to cross by the bridges, which could be let down from
an opening in the tower level with the top of the wall,
while archers upon the summit shot fast and thick
among the defenders who were gathering to oppose them.

"If the young Pembroke is wise," the king said, "he
will make a strong sally now and fall upon one or
other of the parties."

As he spoke there was a sudden movement on the
part of the assailants, who, leaving the foot of the
towers, made a rush at the outwork in the centre. The
instant they arrived they fell to work with axes upon
the palisades. Many were struck down by the blows
dealt them by the defenders, but others caught up the
axes and m less than a minute several of the palisades

THE CAJTURE OF THE OUTWORK.

were cut down and the assailants poured in. The
defenders fought gallantly, but they were overpowered
by numbers. Some were struck down, others taken
prisoners by main force, and the rest driven across the
drawbridge, just as the gates were opened and Pem-
broke, at the head of the defenders, swarmed out to
their assistance.

There was a desperate fight on the bridge, and it was
well that the armour was stout, and the arms that
wielded the weapons had not yet attained their full
strength. Several were knocked off the bridge into the
moat, and these were, by the rules, obliged at once to
retire and take no further part in the contest. Walter
and Ralph the smith, fought in front of their men, and
hard as Pembroke and his followers struggled, they
could not drive them back a foot. The court party
were galled by the heavy fire of arrows kept up by
the apprentices along the side of the moat, and finding
all his efforts to regain the earthwork useless, Pem-
broke withdrew his forces into the castle, and in spite
of the efforts of the besiecrers managed to close the
gates in their faces. The assailants, however, succeeded
in severing the chains of the drawbridge before it could
lie raised.

From the tower above, the defenders now hurled
over great stones, which had been specially placed
tliere for the purpose of destroying the drawbridge
should the earthwork be carried. The boards were
soon splintered, and the drawbridge was pronounced by
the Earl of Talbot, who was acting as judge, to be
destroyed. The excitement of the spectators was worked
up to a great pitch while the conflict was going on,
and the citizens cheered lustily at the success of the
apprentices.

• 1

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100

THE KIXO'S CRITICISM.

1 'I
h

"That was gallantly done," the king said to Queen
Philippa, "and the leader of the assailants is a lad of
rare mettle. Not a captain of my army, no, not Sir
Walter Manny himself, could have done it more
cleverly. You see, by placing his forces at the ends of
the wall he drew all the garrison thither to withstand
the assaults from them, and thus by his sudden move-
ment he was able to carry the outwork before they
could recover from their surprise, and come down to
its aid. I am curious to know what he will do next.
What thinkst thou, Edward?" he asked his son, who
was standing by his side.

"He will win the day," the young prince said; "and
in faith, although the others are my comrades, I should
be glad to see it. He will make a gallant knight, sir,
one of these days, and remember he is engaged to fol-
low my banner, so you must not steal him from me.
See, my liege, they are taking planks and ladders to
the outwork."

"They are doing wrongly then," the king said, "for
even should they bridge the moat where the draw-
bridge is, they cannot scale the wall there, since the
tower defends it, and the ladders are but long enough
to reach the lower wall. No, their leader has changed
his mind, they are taking the planks along the edge of
the moat towards the tower on the left, and will aid
the assault by its bridge by a passage of the moat there."

It seemed, indeed, that this was the plan. While
some of the assailants kept up the arrow tire on the
wall others mounted the tower, while a party prepared
to throw a bridge of planks across the moat. The
bridge from the tower was now lowered; but a shout
of triumph rose from the defenders when it was seen
that by soir.o mistake of the carpenters this was too

Sciid.

"He
off," t
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heade
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sally.p

force

A SORTIE.

101

short, and when lowered did not reach within six feet
of the wall.

"All the better," the king said, while the prince gave
an angry exclamation. "Accidents of this kind will
happen, and give an opportunity to a leader to show
his resources. Doubtless he will carry planks up to
the tower and so connect the bridge and the wall."

This, indeed, was what the assailants tried to do, while
a party threw planks across the moat, and rushing over
placed ladders against the wall and strove to climb.
They strove in vain, however. The ladders were thrown
down as fast as they were placed, while the defenders,
thickly clustered on the walls, drove back those who
tried to cross from the tower.

"I do not see the leader of the assailants," the prince
said.

"He has a white plume, but it may have been shorn
off," the king said. "Look, the young Pembroke is
making a sortie!"

From the sortie gate behind the tower the defenders
now poured out, and running down the edge of the
moat fell upon the stormers. These, however, received
them with great steadiness, and while some continued
the attack the rest turned upon the garrison, and,
headed by Ralph the smith, drove them gradually back.

"They fight well and stead dy," the king said. "One
would have thought that they had reckoned on the
sortie, so steadily did they receive it."

As only a portion of the garrison had issued out
they were unable to resist long the pressure of the
apprentices, who drove them back step by step to the
sally-port, and pressing them hard endeavoured to
force their way in at their heels.

1; \

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CHAPTER VIL

THE YOUNQ ESQUIRE.

ir^ V

III ''If If'

ml
mi

HILE the attention of the whole of the spec-
tators and combatants was iixed upon the
struggle at the right-hand angle of the castle,
a party of twenty 'prentices suddenly leapt
to their feet from among the broken pali-
sades of the outwork. Lying perdu there they had
escaped the attention of the spectators as well as of
the defenders. The reason why the assailants carried
the planks and ladders to this spot was now apparent.
Only a portion had been taken on to the assault of the
right-hand tower; those who now rose to their feet
lifted with them planks and ladders, and at a rapid
pace ran towards the left angle of the castle, and reached
that point before the attention of the few defenders
who remained on the wall there was attracted to them,
^o absorbed were they in the struggle at the other
ngle. The moment that they saw the new assailants
they raised a shout of alarm, but the din of the
combat, the shouts of the leaders and men were so
loud, that their cries were unheard. Two or three
then hurried away at full speed to give the alarm,
while the others strove to repel the assault. Their
eflbrts were in vain. The planks were flung across th»i

THE CASTLE CAPTURED.

103

moat, the ladders placed in position, and led by Walter
the assailants sprang up and gained a tooting on the
wall before the alarm was fairly given. A thundering
cheer from the spectators greeted the success of the
assailants. Springing along the wall they drove before
them the few who strove to oppose them, gained the
central tower, and Walter, springi/ig up to the top,
pulled down the banner of the defenders and placed
that of the city in its place. At this moment the de-
fenders, awakened too late to the ruse which had been
played upon them, came swarming back along the
wall and strove to regain the central tower. In the
confusion the assault by the flying tower of the assail-
ants was neglected, and at this point also they gained
a footing on the wall. The young nobles of the court,
furious at being outwitted, fought desperately to regain
their lost laurels. But the king rose from his seat and
held up his hand. The trumpeter standing below him
sounded the arrest of arms, which was echoed by two
others who accompanied Earl Talbot, who had taken
his place on horseback close to the walls. At the
sound swords dropt and the din abruptly ceased, but
the combatants stood glaring at each other, their blood
too heated to relinquish the fray readily.

Already much damage had been done. In spite of
armour and mail many serious wounds had been in-
flicted, and some of the combatants had already been
carried senseless from the field. Some of the assailants
had been much shaken by being thrown backward
from the ladders into the moat, one or two were hurt
to death; but as few tourneys took place without the
loss of several lives, this was considered but a small
amount of damage for so stoutly fought a melee, and
the knowledge that many were wounded, and some

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104

WALiJCU'si TKIUMI'H.

|!l

perhaps dying, in no way damped the enthusiasm of
the spectators, who cheered lustily for some minutes
at the triumph which the city had obtained.

In the galleries occupied by the ladies and nobles of
the court there was a comparative silence. But brave
deeds were appreciated in those days, and although
the ladies would far rather have seen the victory in-
cline the other way, yet they waved their handker-
chiefs and clapped their hands in token of their ad-
miration at the success of an assault which, at the com-
mencement, appeared well-nigh hopeless.

Lord Talbot rode up to the front of the royal pavilion.

"I was about to stop the fight, sire, when you gave
the signal. Their blood was up, and many would have
been killed had the combat continued. But the castle
was fairly won, the central tower was taken and the
flag pulled down, a footing had been gained at another
point of the wall, and the assailants had forced their
way through the sally-port. Further resistance was
therefore hopeless, and the castle mast be adjudged
as fairly and honourably captured."

A renewed shout greeted the judge's decision. The
king now ordered the rival hosts to be mustered before
him as before the battle, and when this was done Earl
Talbot conducted Walter up the broad steps in front
of the king's pavilion. Geoffrey Ward, who had, after
fastening on Walter's armour in the tent, before the
.sports began, taken his place among the guards at the
foot of the royal pavilion, stept forward and removed
Walter's helmet at the foot of the steps.

"Young sir," the king said, "you have borne your-
self right gallantly to-day, and have shown that you
possess the qualities which make a great captain. I
do my nobles no wrong when I say that not one of

THE VICTOtt'S WUEATII.

105

them could have better planned and led the assault
than you have done.' Am I not right, sirs?" and he
looked round.

A muraiur of assent rose from the knicrhts and
nobles, and the king continued: "I thought you vain
and presumptuous in undertaking the assault of a
fort held by an equal number, many of whom are well
accustomed to war, while the lads who followed you
were all untrained in strife, but you have proved that
your confidence in yourself was not misplaced. The
Earl of Talbot has adjudged you victor, and none can
doubt what the end of the strife would have been.
Take this chain from your king, who is glad to see
that his citizens of London are able to hold their own
even against those of our court, than whom we may
say no braver exist in Europe. Kneel now to the
queen of the tourney, who will bestow upon you the
chaplet which you have so worthily earned."

Walter bent his knee before Edith Vernon. She rose
to her feet, and with an air of pretty dignity placed a
chaplet of laurel leaves, wrought in gold and clasped
with a valuable ruby, on his head.

" I present to you," she said, "the chaplet of victory,
and am proud that my gage should have been worn by
one who has borne himself so bravely and well. May
a like success rest on all your undertakings, and may
you prove a good and valiant knight!"

" Well said, Mistress Edith," Queen Philippa said
smiling. "You may well be proud of your young
champion. I too must have my gift," and drawing a
ring set with brilliants from her finger she placed it in
Walter's hand.

The lad now rose to his feet. "The prince, my son,"
the king said, "lias promised that you shall ride with

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106

THE ANNOUN'UEMENT.

his men-at-arms when he is old enough to take the
field. Should you choose to abandon your craft and
do so earlier I doubt not that one of my nobles, the
brave Sir Walter Manny, for example, will take you
before that time."

" That will I readily enough," Sir Walter said, "and
glad to have so promising a youth beneath my banner "

" I would that you had been of gentle blood," the
king St;id.

"That makes no difference, sire," Sir Walter replied.
"I will place him among the young gentlemen, my
pages and esquires, and am sure that they will receive
him as one of themselves."

Geofi'rey Ward had hitherto stood at the foot of the
steps leading to the royal pavilion, but doffing his caj)
he now ascended. " Pardon my boldness, sire," he said
to the king, "but I would fain tell you what the lad
himself has hitherto been ignorant of. He is not, as
he supposes, the son of Giles Fletcher, citizen and bow-
maker, but is the lawfully born son of Sir Roland
Somers, erst of Westerham and Hythe, who wac
killed in the troubles at the commencement of your
majesty's reign. His wife. Dame Alice, brought the
child to Giles Fletcher, whose wife had been her nurse.
and dying left him in her care. Giles and his wife,
if called for, can vouch for the truth of this, and can
give you proofs of his birth."

Walter listened with astonishment to Geoffrey's
speech. A thrill of pleasure rushed through his veins as
he learned that he was of gentle blood and might hope
to aspire to a place among the knights of King Edward's
court. He understood now the pains which Geoffrey
had bestowed L. seeing that he was perfected in war-
hke eiercises, and why both he and Giles had en-

Walter's lineaue.

107

couraged rather than repressed his love for martial
exercises and his determination to abandon his ciat't
and become a man -at -anus when he reached man's
estate.

"Ah! is it so?" the king exclaimed, "I remember
Sir Roland Somers, and also that he was slain by Sir
Hugh Spencer, who, as 1 heard on many hands, acted
rather on a private quarrel than, as he alleged, in my
interest, and there were many who avowed that the
charges brought against Sir Roland were unfounded.
However, this matter must be inquired into, and my
High Justiciar shall see Master Giles and his wife,
hear theii' evidence, and e.: amine the proofs which they
may bring forward. As to the estates, they were granted
to Sir Jasper Vernon and cannot be restored. Never-
theless I doubt not that the youth will carve out for
himself a fortune with his sword. You are his master,
I suppose? I would fain pay you to cancel his
apprenticeship. Sir Walter Manny has promised to
enroll him among his esquires."

" I will cancel his indentures willingly, my Hege," t
armourer answered, "and that without payment. Tii_
lad has been to me as a son, and seeing his high spirit,
and knowing the gentle blood running in his veins, I
have done my best so to teach him and so to put him
in the way of winning back his father's rank by his
sword."

"He hath gone far towards it already," the king
said, "and methinks may yet gain some share in his
father's inheritance," and he glanced at little Mistress
Edith Vernon and then smiled at the queen. " Well,
we shall see," he went on. " Under Sir Walter Manny
he will have brave chances of distinguishing himself,
and when my son takes the field he shall ride w^ith him.

-, 11

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108

THE TWO LEADERS.

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I'liiji

But I am keeping the hosts waiting. Bring hither," he
snid to Earl Talbot, "Clarence Ayhner."

The young noble was led up to the king. "You
have done well, Clarence; though you have been worsted
you fought bravely, but you were deceived by a ruse
which might have taken in a more experienced captain.
1 trust that you will be friends with your adversary,
who will be known to you henceforth as Walter Soniers,
son of Sir Roland of that name, and who will ride to
the wars, whither you also are shortly bound, under
the standard of Sir Walter Manny."

The cloud which had hung over the face of tlio
young noble cleared. It had indeed been a bitter
mortification to him that he, the son of one of the
proudest of English nobles, should have been worsted
by a London apprentice, and it was a relief to him to
find that his opponent was one of knightly blood. He
turned frankly to Walter and held out his hand. " I
greet you as a comrade, sir," he .said, " and hope some
day that in our rivalry in the field I may do better
than 1 have done to-day."

" That is well spoken," the king said. Then he rose
and in a loud voice addressed the combatants, saying.
that all had borne themselves well and bravely, uiid
that he thanked them, not only for the rare pastime
which they had made, but for the courage and boldness
which had been displayed on both sides. So sayinj,',
he waved his hand as a token that the proceedings
were ended, and returned with the court to West-
minster; while the crowd of spectators overflowed the
lists, those who had friends in the apprentice array
being anxious to know how they had fared. That
evening there was a banquet given by the lord-ma \ or.
Walter was invited to be present, with Giles and

r," he

" You
arsteil
a ruse
iptain.
jrsary,
oniers,
ride to
under

WALTCUS FUIEXDH.

109

Geoffrey, and many complimentary things were said to
him, and he was congratulated on the prospects which
awaited him. After dinner all the 'prentices who had
taken part in the sports tiled through the hall and were
eucii presented with a gold piece by the lord-mayor, in
tlie name of the corporation, for having so nobly sus-
tained the renown of the city.

After the entertainment was over Walter returned
with Geotirey to the bowyer's house, and there heard
from his two friends and Bertha the details of his
mother's life from the time that she had been a child,
and the story of her arrival with him, and her death. He
had still difficulty in believing that it was all true, that
Giles and Bertha, whom he had so long regarded as
his father and mother, were only his kind guardians,
and that he was the scion of two noble families. Very
warmly and gratefully he thanked his three friends for
lie kindness which they had shown to him, and vowed
that no change of condition should ever alter his
feelings of atiection towards them. It was not until
the late hour of nine o'clock that he said good-bye to
his foster parents, for he was next day to repair to the
lodging of Sir Walter Manny, who was to sail again
ht'fore the week was out for the Low Countries, from
which he had only returned for a few days to have
private converse with the king on the state of matters
there. His friends would have delivered to him his
mother's ring and other tokens which she had left, but
thought it better to keep these, with the other proofs
of his birth, until his claim was established to the
satisfaction of the lord justiciaries.

The next morning early, when Walter descended the
stairs, he found Ralph Smith waiting for him. His
face was strapped up with plaster and he wore his

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110

n.VMMi THU SMlTil.

arm in a slin^, for liis armour had been twice cut
through as he led his ptirty in throuj^h the sally-port.

" How goes it with you, Ralph f'" Walter said. "Mot
much the worse, I hope, for your hard knoei<8?"

" Not a whit," Ralph replied cheerfully, "and I shall
be all right again before the week is out; but the leecli
made as much fuss over me as if I had been a girl, just
as though one was not accustomed to hard knocks in a
smithy. Those I got yesterday were not half so hard
as that which you gave me the day before. My head
rings yet with the thought of it. But 1 have not come
to talk about myself. Is the story true which they
tell of you, Master Walter, that you are not the son of
Giles the bowyer, but of a great noble?"

" Not of a great noble, Ralph, but of a gallant knight,
which is just as good. My father was killed when 1
was three years old, and my mother brought me to
Bertha, the wife of Giles the bowyer, who had been
her nurse in childhood. I had forgotten all that had
passed, and deemed myself the son of the good citizen,
but since I have heard the truth my memory has
awakened somewhat, and I have a dim recollection of
a lordly castle and of my father and mother."

"And they say, Walter, that you are going with
Sir Walter Manny, with the force which is just sailing
to the assistance of Lady De Montford."

" That is so, Ralph, and the good knight has taken
me among his esquires, young as I am, although I
might well have looked for nothing better than to coni-
mence, for two years at least, as a page, seeing that I
am but eighteen now. Now I shall ride with him into
the battles and shall have as good a chance as the
others of gaining honour and winning my spurs."

" I have made up my mind that I will go with yon,

WALTEK8 FIIUST FULLuWER.

Ill

Master Walter, if you will taK'o me; each sqtiire hRs a
iiian-ut-arins who burve.s hhii, and I will j^ivo you gooil
uii(i faithful service if you will take iiiu with you. I
spoUe to the Hinith, my m&ster, lust night when 1 heard
the news, and an my apprenticeship is out next week
lie wjus willinij enough to give me the few days which
rt'inain. Once out of my apprenticeship I may count
tu be a irian, and seeing that 1 am nineteen, and as I
may say well grown of my years, methinks I am fit
for service as a man-at-arms, and I would rather fiy:ht
behind you than labour all my life in the smithy."

" I shall be glad indeed, Ralph, to have you with me
if such V)e really your wish, and I do not think that
Sir Walter Manny will say nay, for they have been
beating up for recruits through the kingdom, and we
proved yesterday that you have courage as well as
strength. If he will consent I should be glad indeed
to have so brave a conu'ade with me, so we may con-
sider that settled, and if you will come down to West-
minster, to Sir Walter Manny's lodging, this afternoon,
1 will tell you what he says touching the matter. You
will, of course, need arms and armour."

" I can provide that," Ralph replied, "seeing that his
worshipful the lord-mayor bestowed upon me yester-
day five gold pieces as the second in command in the
sports. I have already a steel cap and breast and back
pieces, which 1 have made for myself in hours of leisure,
and warrant will stand as hard a knock as the French-
men can give them."

Going across into the city with Geoffrey, Walter
purcha'jed, with the contents of the purse which the
king had given him, the garments suited for his new.
position. He was fortunate in obtaining some which
titted him exactly. These had been made for a young

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112

THE FASHION OF THE DAY.

esquire of the Earl of Salisbury; but the tailor, when
he heard from Geoffrey for whom they were required,
and the need for instant despatch, parted with them to
Walter, saying that he for whom they were made
could well wait a few days, and that he would set his
journeymen to work at once to make some more of
similar fit and fashion.

Walter felt strange in his new attire, and by no
means relished the tightness of the garments, which
was strictly demanded by the fashion of the day. His
long hose, one of which was of a deep maroon, the
other a bright yellow, came far up above the knee,
then came a short pair of trunks of similar colours
divided in the middle. The tight-fitting doublet was
short and circled at the waist by a buff belt mounted
in silver, and was of the same colours as the hose and
trunks. On his head was a ca^ peaked in front; this
was of maroon, with a short erect feather of yellow.
The long - pointed shoes matched the rest of the
costume. There were three other suits similar in
fashion, but different in colour; two like the first were
of cloth, the third was of white and blue silk, to be
worn on grand occasions.

" You look a very pretty figure, Walt jr," Geoffrey
said, "and will be able to hold your own among the
young gallants of the court. If you lack somewhat of
courtly manners it will matter not at all, since you are
leaving so soon for the wars. The dress sets off your
figure, which is fully two years in advance of your
age, seeing that hard work has widened you out and
thickened your muscles. I need not tell you, lad, not
to be quarrelsome, for that was never your way; but
just at first your companions may try some jests with
you, as is always the manner of young men with

...r^

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m, the

AT SIR WALTER MANNY .S.

113

new-comers, but take them in a good spirit, and be
sure that, seeing the strength of arm and skill which
you showed yesterday and the day before, none will
care to push matters with you unduly."

One of the journeymen accompanied Walter to West-
minster to cnrry up from the boat the valise with bis
clothes and the armour which he had worn in the
sports. Sir Walter received the lad with much kind-
ness and introduced him to his future companions.
They were live in number; the eldest was a man of
some thirty years old, a Hainaulter, who had accom-
panied Sir Walter Manny to England at the time when
the latter first came over as a young scpiire in the suite
of the Princess Philippa. He was devotedly attached
to the knight, his master, and although he might
several times have received the rank of knighthood for
his bravery in the field, he preferred remaining in his
position as esquire and faithful friend of his master.

The other four were between the ages of nineteen
and twenty-one, and all belonged to the families of the
highest nobility of England, it being deemed a distin-
guished honour to be received as a squire by the most
gallant knight at the court of England. Their duties
were, as Walter soon learned, almost nominal, these
being discharged almost exclusively by John Mervaux.
Two of the young esquires, Richard COningsby an<l
Edward Clifford, had fought in tlie melee, having been
among the ten leaders under Clarence Aylmer. They
bore no malice for the defeat, but received Walter with
cordiality and kindness, as did tlie other young men.
Walter on his arrival acquainted the knight with
Iialph's wish to follow him, and requested permission
for him to do so. This was readily granted, Sir Walter
Manny telling the lad that although esquii-es were

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HORSEMANSHIP.

supposed to wait entirely upon themselves, to groom
their horses, and keep their armour and arms bright
and in good order, yet, in point of fact, young men
of good families had the greater part of these duties
performed for them by a retainer who rode in the ranks
of their master's following as a man-at-arms.

" The other esquires have each one of their father's
retainers with them, and I am glad that you should bo
in the same position. After you have taken your mid-
day meal you had best go across to the Earl of Talbot's
and inquire for the Lady Vernon, who is still stay-
ing with him. She told me at the king's ball last
night that she wished to have speech with you, and I
promised to acquaint you with her desire. By the
way, dost know aught of riding?"

" I have learnt to sit on a horse. Sir Walter," the lad
answered. " My good friend Geoffrey, the armourer,
advised that I should learn, and frequently hired from
the horse-dealer an animal for my use. I have often
backed half-broken horses which were brought up by
graziers from Kent and Sussex for use in the wars.
Many of them abode at the hostels at Southwark, and
willingly enough granted me permission to ride their
horses until they were sold. Thus I have had a good
deal of practice, and that of a rough kind; and seeing
that latterly the horses have, for the most part, found
it difficult to tling me when sitting barebacked across
them, I think I could keep my seat in the high-peaked
saddles on the most vicious, but I have had no prac-
tice at tilting, or at the ring, or other knightly exer-
cises."

"That matters not at all," the knight said. "All
these knightly exercises which you speak of are gooil
in time of peace, for they give proficiency and steadi-

DAME ALICE VEUXON.

II?)

ncss, but in time of war he who can sit tirmlv in his
saddle and wield sword and battle-axe lustily and skil-
fully is equal to the best; but never fear, when this
expedition is over, and we have time for such things, 1
will see that you are instructed in them. One who has
achieved so much martial skill a.s you have done. at so
early an age will have little difficulty in acquiring what
may be teimed the pastime of chivalry."

Ralph arrived just as Walter was setting out. The
latter presented him to the knight, who spoke with
l)raise of the gallantry which he had displayed on the
previous day, and then handed him over to John Mer-
vaux, with instructions to enrol him as a man-at-arms
among his followers, to inform him of his duties, and
to place him with those who attended upon the other
esquires.

After seeing Ralph disposed of, Walter went across
to the Earl of Talbot and was auain conducted to the
presence of Dame Vernon.

" You have changed since we met last, young sir,"
she said with a smile, " though it is but a month since.
Then you were a 'prentice boy, now you are an esquire
of Sir Walter Manny, and on the highway to distinc-
tion. That you will win it I am well assured, since
one who risked his life to rescue a woman and child
whose very names were unknown to him is sure to
turn out a noble and valiant knight. I little thought
when my daughter called you her knight, that in so
short a time you might become an aspirant to that
honour. I hope that you do not look askance at us,
now that you know I pm in possession of the lands of
your parents. Such changes of land, you know, often
occur, but now I know who you are, I would that the
estates bestowed upon Sir Jasper had belonged to some

1 1 ■',

ll«

Walter's queen.

I I; |:

[' ft W^'

Other than you; however, I trust that you will hold no
grudge against us, and that you may win as fair an
estate by the strength of your arm and the king's
favour."

" Assuredly I feel no grudge, madam," Walter re-
plied, " and since the lands were forfeited, am pleased
that of all people they should have gone to one so
kind and so fair as yourself."

"What, learning to be a flatterer already!" Dame
Vernon laughed. "You are coming on fast, and I pre-
dict great things from you. And now, Edith, lay aside
that sampler* you are pretending to be so busy upon
and speak to this knight of yours."

Edith laid down her work and came forward. She
was no longer the dignified little queen of the tourna-
ment, but a laughing, bright-faced girl.

"I don't see that you are changed," she said, "except
in your dress, ^""ou speak softly and naturally, just .is
you used to do, and not a bit like those little court
fops. Uncle Talbot's pages. I am afraid you will not
want to be my knight any more, now that you are
going to get great honours at the war; for I heard my
Uncle Talbot tell my lady mother that he was sure you
would gain great credit for yourself."

" I shall be always your knight," Walter said ear-
nestly; "I told you I should, and I never break my
word. That is," he went on, colouring, " if Dame Ver-
non makes no objection, as she well might."

" If I did not object before, Walter," she said smil-
ing, " why should I do so now? "

" It is diflerent, my lady; before, it was somewhat of
a jest, a sort of childish play on the part of Mistress
Edith, though so far as I was concerned it was no
play, but sober earnest."

THE REWARD OF BRAVERY.

117

Id no
ir an

dng's

"It needs no permission from me," Dame Vernovi
replied, " for you to wear my daughter's colours. Any
knii^ht may proclaim any lady he chooses the mistress
uf his heart, and a reigning beauty will often have a
dozen young knights who wear her colours. However,
I am well content that one who has done me such
oreat service and who has shown such high promise
hhould be the first to wear the gage of my little daugh-
ter, and if in after years your life fulfils the promise
of your youth, and you remain true to her gage, there
is none among all the youths of the court whom I
would so gladly see at her feet. Remember," she said,
as Walter was about to speak, " her hand will not be
at my disposal, but at that of the king. His majesty
is wont to bestow the hands of his wards upon those
who most distinguish themselves in the field. You
have already attracted his royal attention and com-
mendation. Under Sir Walter Manny you will be sure
of opportunities of distinguishing yourself, and the
king may well be glad some day at once to reward
your services and to repair a cruel injustice by bestow-
ing upon you the hand of the heiress of your father's
lands. If I mistake not, such a thought has even now
crossed his majesty's mind, unless I misinterpreted a
glance which yesterday passed between him and our
sweet queen. I need not tell you to speak of your hopes
to none, but let them spur you to higher exertions and
nobler efforts. Loving my little Edith as I do, I natu-
rally consider the prize to be a high one. I have often
been troubled by the thought that her hand maybe some
day given to one by years or temper unsuited for her,
and it will be a pleasure to me henceforth to picture
her future connected with one who is, I am sure, by heart
and nature fitted for her. And now, farewell, young sir.

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118

GOUD WISHES.

May God protect you in the field, and may you carry
in the battle which awaits you the gage of my daugh-
ter as fairly and successfully as you did in the mimic
fiay of yeaturJay!"

'"«'

'■I'

CHAPTER VIIL

OFF TO THE WARS.

fj3B^ WO days later Walter started with Sir Walter
. Wm Manny, with a large number of knights,

squires, men-at-arms, and archers, for the
Orwell. Walter was mounted, as were the

other squires and men-at-arms, and indeed
many of the archers. Ralph Smith, in the attire of a
man-at-arms, rode behind.

Walter was in the highest spirits. A brilliant career
was open to him under the most favourable circum-
stances; he had already distinguished himself, and had
gained the attention of the highest personages in the
realm, his immediate lord was one of the bravest and
most chivalrous knights in Europe, and he had to sus-
tain and encourage him the hopes that Lady Vernon hail
given him, of regaining some day the patrimony of
his father. It was a satisfaction to him that he was as
well born as those who surrounded him, and his purse
was as well lined as any in the company. Although
he had spent the largess which had been bestowed
upon him at the tournament in procuring clothes fitted
for his rank, he was yet abundantly supplied with
money, for both Geoffrey Ward and Giles Fletcher,
liavins: no children of their own and being both well-

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120

THE PAY OF OUR FORETATllERS.

to-do men, had insisted upon his accepting a sum which
would enable him to make a good appearance with the
best.

A large number of squires followed the banner of
Sir Walter Manny. The records of the time show that
the barons were generally accomjjanied in the field by
almost as many squires as men-at-arms. The former
were men of good family, sons of knights and nobles,
aspirants for the honour of knighthood, and sons of the
smaller gentry. Many were there from pure love of a
life of excitement and adventure, others in fultilment
of the feudal tenure by which all land was then held,
each noble and landowner being obliged to furnish so
many knights, squires, men-at-arms, and archers, in
accordance with the size of his holding. The squires
fought in the field in the front rank of the men-at-arms,
save those who, like Walter, were attached to the per-
son of their leader, and who in the field fought behind
him or bore his orders to the companies under his
banner.

In the field all drew pay, and it may be interesting
in the present day to know what were the rates for
which our forefathers risked their lives. They were as
follows: — each horse archer received C deniers, each
squire 12 deniers or 1 sol, each knight 2 sols, each
knight banneret 4 sols. 20 sols went to the pound,
and although the exact value of money in those days
relative to that which it bears at the present time is
doubtful, it may be placed at twelve times the present
value. Therefore each horse archer received an equi-
valent to Cs. a day, each squire 128., each knight 24s.,
and each knight banneret 488. per day.

Upon their arrival at the Orwell, where many troops
from other parts had been gjithered, the expedition at

THE TRANSPORT.

1^1

lUtion lit

once embarked on board the numerous ships which had
lioen collected. As that in which Sir Walter sailed
filso carried several of l)is kniohts there was not room
for all his younj^ cs(iuires, and Walter and the three
other juniors were told oli' into another ship. She was
!i smaller vessel tlian most of those which composed
the expedition, and only carried twelve nien-at-arms
und as many archers, together with the four young
squires, and a knight, Sir John Powis, wdio was in
command of the whole.

" Your craft is but a small one," the knight said to
the captain.

" She is small, but she is fast," the latter answered.
" She would sail round and round the best part of the
fleet. 1 had her built according to my own fancy.
Small though she be, I warrant you she will be one of
the first to arrive at Hennebon, and the sooner the
better say I, since I am but paid by the trip, and
would fain be back again at my regular work. It
pays better carrying merchants' goods between London
and Holland than taking his majesty's troops over to
France."

" Your speed will not be of much avail," Sir John
Powis said, " seeing that the fleet will keep together."

"Yes, I kno'./ that is the order," the captain an-
swered; " but accidents happen sometimes, you know "
— and his eye twinkled. " Vessels get separated from
fleets. If they happen to be slow ones so much the
worse for those on board; if they happen to be fast
ones so much the better, seeing that those' they carry
will arrive long before their comrades, and may be
enabled to jjain credit and renown while the others
are whistlinj; for a wind in mid-ocean. However, we
hhall see."

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122

A TANGLED SKEIN.

W§^

llli i

The next morninjr tlie fleet sailed from the Orwell.
It contained G20 nien-at-anns, among whom were many
of the noblest and bravest of the country, and COOO
picked archers in the pay of the king. The whole
were commanded by Sir Walter. The scene was a
very gay one. The banners of the nobles and knights
floated from the lofty poops, and the sun shone on
bright armour and steel weapons. Walter, who had
never seen the sea before, was delighted. The wind
was fair, and the vessels glided snioothly along over
the sea. At evening the knight and his four young
companions gathered in the little cabin, for it was in
the first week in March, and the night was cold.

" Will you please tell me. Sir John," Walter said to
the knight, " the merits of this quarrel in which we are
going to fight? I know that we are going in aid of
the Countess of Montford; but why she is in a sore
strait I know not."

"The matter is a mixed one, Walter, and it re-
quires a herald to tell you all the subtleties of it.
John III., Duke of Brittany, was present with his liege
lord, Phillip of Valois, in the last war with England,
on the border of the low country. When the English
retired from before Tournay Phillip dismissed his nobles.
The Duke of Burgundy was taken ill, and died at
Caen, in Normandy, on the 30th of April, 1341.
Arthur II., his father, had been twice married. By
his first wife he had three sons, John, Guy, and Peter.
John and Peter left no issue. Guy, who is also dead,
left a daughter, Joan. By his second wife, Jolande
de Dieux, Duke Arthur had one son, John, Count
of Montford. Thus it happened, that when Duke
John died, his half-brother, the Count of Montford,
and Joan, daughter of his second brother Guy, were

lilH'l'

RIVAL CLAIMANTS.

123

all that survived of the family. These were the rival
claimants for the vacant dulcedom. In England we
have but one law of succession, which rules through
the whole land. In France it is diHerent There
tlie law of succession depends entirely upon the cus-
tom of the county, dukedom, or lordship, which is
lurther atTected both by the form of grant by which
the territory was conveyed to its first feudal possessors
and by the mode in which the province had been
acquired by the kings of France. This is important,
as upon these circumstances alone it depended whether
the son or the grand-daughter of Arthur II. should
inherit the dukedom.

"Joan claimed the duchy as the daughter of the
elder brother. The Salic law of France, which barred
females from the right of succession, and in virtue of
which Phillip of Valois succeeded to the throne instead
of King Edward, certainly did not obtain in Brittany.
Duke John regarded Joan as his heiress, and married
her to Charles of Blois, nephew of the King of France,
thus strengthening her in her position; and he also
induced the provincial parliament of Brittany to ac-
knowledge her husband as his successor in the dukedom.
Altogether it would seem that right is upon Joan's
side; but, on the other hand, the Count of Montford
is the son of Jolande, a great heiress in Brittany. He
is an active and energetic noble. The Bretons love
not too close a connection with France, and assuredly
prefer to be ruled by a duke whom they regard as one
of themselves rather than by Charles of Blois, nephew
of the French king. Directly Duke John was dead
the Count of Montford claimed the inheritance. As-
suming the title of duke he rode to Nantes, where
the citiicens did him homage, and then proceeded to

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124

DE MONTIOIID'S EARLY SUCCESSES.

Limoges with a large train of nien-nt-arnis, and there

took possession of tiie iirnnense trensures wliicli tl
lute duke had uccuniulated in tlie course of a loni; <m
tranquil reiij^n. With these sinews of war at his eim.
niand ho returned to Mantes, where he had left \u>
wife the countess, who was a sister of the Count ot
Flanders. He iiinnediately invited the nobility of
Brittany to a grand bancjuet, but only one knight of
any renown presented himself at the feast, the rest all
holding aloof. With the wealth of which he had pos-
sessed himself he levied large forces and took the field.
He first marched against Brest, where the garrison,
commanded by Walter de Clisson, refused to acknow-
ledge him. After three days' hard fighting the place
was taken. Rennes was next besieged, and presently
surrendered. Other towns fell into his hands, and so
far as Brittany was concerned all opposition, except in
one or two fortresses, ceased. In the nnean while Charles
of Blois sought assistance from his uncle the King of
France; the Count de Montford, therefore, crossed to
England and besought the aid of King Edward, and
did homage to him as King of France. Edward, on
his part, promised to assist him. The fact that Phillip
was sure to espouse the opposite side was in itself
sufficient to decide him; besides which, the dukes of
Brittany have always been in a special way connected
with England and bear the English title of Earls oi
Richmond.

"Believing that his journey, which had been a secret
one, was unknown to the King of France, De Mont
ford went boldly to Paris, where he had been sum-
moned by the king to an assembly of peers called to
decide upon the succession. He found, however, that
Phillip had already obtained news uf his journey to

THE CAMUUR OF NANTES.

llT)

I'jigland. His mannor convinced Do Montford that it
was unsafe to rciiuiin in Paris, and ho socrotly niado
Ills escaiio. Fil'tc-on days after vvaixls tho poors gavo
judgment in favour of Charles of lllois. Tlie Dukes
of Normandy, Burgundy, and Bourhon, tlio Counts of
Alen(;on, En, and (Juisncs, and many other French
nohlos, prepared to lead an army into the field to sup-
port Charles, and tlio king added a body of 3000
(Jenoese mercenaries in his pay.

" Knowing the storm that was preparing to break
upon him, Do Montford put every town and castle in
a state of defence. He Idmself, confiding in the affec-
tion of the inhabitants of Nantes, remained in that
city, while his wife repaired to llonnos.

" The Duke of Normandy advanced from Anglers
with an army of 5000 men-at-arms and a numerous
infantry, and after capturing tho castle of Chanto-
ceaux marched to Nantes and laid siege to tho city.
A sortie was made by the besieged, led by Henry de
Leon, but, being attacked by the whole of the French
army, they were driven back into the town, a great
many of the citizens being killed. A warm alterca-
tion took place between Henry de Leon and De Mont-
ford, who attributed to him tho evil result of the
sortie. The result was that a large number of the
citizens whoso friends had been captured by the
French conspired to deliver up the place to Charles
of Blois, and Henry do Leon also entered into private
negotiations with tiio Duke of Normandy. Do Mont-
ford, finding that ho could rely neither upon the
citizens nor tho soldiers, surrendered to tho duke on
condition that his life was spared. He was sent to
Paris, where ho still remains a prisoner. Winter was
coming on, and after putting Nantes in a fresh state

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120

A SPIRITED LADY.

'^11 ;,

Mm:]

of defence and leaving Charles of Blois there, the
Duke of Konnandy dismissed his forces, engagiiii,'
them to reassemble in the spring. Had he pushed on
at once he would have experienced no resistance, so
great was the panic which tiie surrender of Nantes and
the capture of De Montford had caused among the
latter's partisans.

"In Rennes, especially, the deepest despondency
was felt. The countess, however, showed the greatest
courage and firmness. Showing herself, with her
infant in her arms, she appealed to the citizens, and
by her courageous bearing inspired them with new
hopes. Having restored heart at Rennes she travelled
from garrison to garrison throughout the province, and
filled all with vigour and resolution. Feeling, how-
ever, the hopelessness of her struggle against all France,
she despatched Sir Almeric de Clisson, who had lately
joined her party, to England, to ask the aid which the
king had promised. He arrived a month since, and, as
you see, our brave king has not been long in despatch-
ing us to her aid; and now, youngsters, to bed, for mc-
thinks that the sea is rougher than it was and t'.j.t
the wind is getting up."

" Ay, that is it," the captain, whc heard the knight's
closing words, exclaimed. " We are in for a storm, and
a heavy one, or my name is not Timothy Martin, and
though with plenty of sea-room the Kitty makes not
much ado about a storm more or less, it's a very dif-
ferent thing in the middle of a fleet of lubberly craft,
which may run one down at any time. 1 shall edge
out of them as soon as I can, you may be sure."

Before morning a serious gale was blowing, and for
the next three or four days Walter and his companions
knew nothing of what was going on. Then the storiii

HE.NNEUO.V.

127

abated, and they stagp^ered out from their cabin. Tho
«ea was still high, but the sun shone brightly over-
head. In front of them the land was visible. They
looked round, but to their astonishment not a sail was
in sight.

"Why, where is the fleet?" Walter exclaimed in
astonishment.

"Snug in the Thames, I reckon," the captain said.
" Soon after ihe storm came on one of the sailors pre-
tended he saw the li<;hts of recall on the admiral's
ship; but 1 was too busy to look that way, I had
enough to do to look after the safety of the ship.
Anyhow, I saw no more of them."

"And what land is that ahead?" Walter asked.

"That is Brittany, young sir, and before nightfall
we shall be in the port of Hennebon; as to the others,
it may be days and it may be weeks befoie they
arrive."

The lads were not sorry at the chance which had
taken them to their destination before their companions
and had given them a chance of distinguishing them-
selves. Late in the afternoon the ship dropped anchor
ort" the castle of Hennebon, and Sir John Powis and
liis following were conveyed in the ship's boats to
shore. The countess received them most graciously,
and was delighted at the news that so strong a force
was on its way to her aid.

"In the absence of Sir Walter Manny, macium, I
place myself and my men at your orders. Our horses
will be landed the first thing in the morning, and we
will then ride whithersoever you may bid us."

" Thanks, Sir John," the countess replied. " In that
case I would that you ride by Rennes, towards whiclk
the army or the Duke of Normandy is already ad-

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128

THE SIEGE OF RESXES.

vancing.

The fjarrison there is comrnanded by Sir
William of Caddoudal, a good and valiant knight."

The horses were landed on the following morning,
and accompanied by the four young squires and the
men-at-arms, and followed by the twenty archers on
foot, Sir John Powis set out for Rennes. The^;
arrived there, but just in time, tor the assailants were
closing round the city. They were received with the
greatest cordiality by the governor, who assigned
apartments to Sir John and the squires, and lodged
the men-at-arms and archers near them.

Tn a day or two the whole of the French army came
up, and the siege commenced. Sir Jolin Powis, at his
own request, was posted with his men for the defence
of a portion of the wall which was especially open to
the assaults of the enemy. These soon commenced in
earnest, and the Genoese and Spanish mercenaries
endeavoured to carry the place by assault. Sometimes
one point would be attacked, at others points far
distant. Covered by the fire of the French crossbow-
men, the Spaniards and Germans came on to the
assault, carrying ladders, with which they strove to
climb the walls, but the defenders plied them so
vigorously with quarrels from their cross-bows and
flights of arrows that they frequently desisted before
reaching the walls. When they pushed on, and strove
to ascend, their luck Avas no better. Great stones were
hurled down, and boiling oil poured upon them. The
ladders were flung back, and many crushed by the fall,
and in none of the assaults did they gain any footiiii,'
in ti»e town. Machines were used, but these were not
sutiieiently powerful to batter down the walls, and at
the end of April the city was as far from being captured
as it was on the day of the commencement of the siege.

COWARDLY CITI/EXS.

129

Walter bore his full share in the fijjhtinjrj, but he had
no opportunity of especially distinguishing himself,
although Sir John several times commended him for
Ills coolness when the bolts of the crossbow-men and
the stones from the machines were flying most thickly.
But although as yet uninjured by the enemy's attacks,
the prospect of the city holding out was not bright.
The burgher?, who had at first fouglit valiantly, were
soon wearied of the strife, and of the hardships it
entailed upon them. The siege had continued but a
short time when they began to murmur loudly. The
force under the command of the governor was but a
small one, and it would have been impossible for him
to resist the will of the whole population. For a time
his exhortations and entreaties were attended with suc-
cess, and the burghers returned to their positions on the
walls; but each time the difficulty became greater, and
it was clear to Caddoudal and Sir John Powis that ere
long the citizens would surrender the place in spite of
then). The lilnglish knight was furious at the coward-
liness cf the citizens, and proposed to the governor to
summon twenty of the leading burghers, and to hang
them as a lesson to the others; but the governor shook
his head.

" 1 have but two hundred men on whom I can rely,
including your following. Sir John. We could not
keep down the inhabitants for an hour; and were we
to try to do so, they would o]ien the gates and let in
the French. No; I fear that we Diust await the
end."

Tlie following: mornincr Sir John was awoke with
the news that in the niiiht Caddoudal had been seized
and thrown into prison by the burghers, and that a
deputation of citizens had already

(•J(i4)

gone out through
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130

THE SUIUtKNOER OF RENNFS.

the gate to treat with the Duke of Normandy for tlib
surrender of the city.

The English knight was furious, but with his little
band he could do nothing, especially as he found that
a strong guard of burghers had been placed at the
door of the apartments occupied by him and the
esquires, and he was informed that he must consider
himself a prisoner until the conclusion of the negotia-
tions.

Cowardly and faithless as the burghers of Rennes
showed themselves to be, they nevertheless stipulated
with the Duke of Normandy, as one of the conditions of
the surrender, that Caddoudal, Sir John Powis, and the
troops under them should be permitted to pass through
the French lines and go whithersoever they would.
These terms were accepted. At mid-day the governor
was released, and he with his men-at-arms and the
band of Englishmen filed out from the city gate, and
took their way unmolested through the lines of the
French army to Hennebon.

They had been for a month in ignorance of all that
had passed outside the walls, and had from day to day
been eagerly looking for the arrival of Sir Walter
Manny with his ai my to their relief. Once past the
French lines they iiKniired of the peasantry, and heard
to their surprise tluu the English fleet had not yet
arrived.

" We were in luck indeed," Walter said to his coin-
panions, " that Captain Timothy Martin was in a hurry
to get back to his tradings with the Flemings. Had
he not been so, we should ail this time have been kick-
ing our heels and fretting on board a ship."

On nearing Hennebon, Sir William Caddoudal, with
Sir John Powis and the squires, rode forward and

or tlib

3 little
id that
at the
nd the
onsider
legotia-

Rennes
pulated
itions of
and the
through
would,
fovernor
and the
rate, and
s of the

all that
,y to day
r Walter
past the
nd heard
, not yet

his coin-
n a hurry

s. Had
)een kick-

udal, with
•ward and

1 1 >

j I
i I

I : -I

-!:i i. ^:i

m^^

264

THE CITIZENS I'REI'AUE TO DEFEND IIENNEBON.

PKEPARATIONS AT HEN N EBON.

131

met the countess. They were the fii-st bearers of the
news of the surrender of Rennes, and the countess was
filled with consternation at the intelligence. How-
ever, after her first burst of indignation and regret had
passed, she put a brave face on it.

" They shall meet with another reception at Henne-
bon," she said. " This is but a small place, and my
garrison here, and the soldiers you have brought, will
well-nigh outnumber the burghers; and we need have
no fear of such faintheartedness as that which has
given Nantes and Rennes into the hands of my enemy.
The English aid cannot tarry long. Until it come we
can assuredly hold the place."

All was now bustle in Hennebon. Sir John Powis
took charge of a part of the walls, and busied himself
with his men in placing the machines in position, and
in preparing for defence. The countess, attired in
armour, rode through the streets haranguing the
townspeople. She urged the men to fight till the
last, and bade the women and girls cut short their
dresses so that they could the better climb the steps
to the top of the walls, and that one and all should
carry up stones, chalk, and baskets of lime to be cast
down upon the assailants. Animated by her words
and gestures, the townspeople set to work, and all vied
with each other, from the oldest to the youngest, in
carrying up stores of missiles to the walls. Never
did Heanebon present such a scene of life and bustle.
It seemed like an ant-hill which a passer-by has dis-
turbed.

Absorbed in their work, none had time to think
of the dangers which threatened them, and a stranger
would rather have thought from their cheerful and ani-
mated countenances that they were preparing for a

'•1

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132

THE COiniEXCEMEXT OF THE SIEGE.

II;; pi i^
lit

great fete than for a siege by an army to which the
two cliief towns in Brittany had succumbed.

Ere long the French army was seen approacliing.
The soldiers, who had been labouring with the rest,
buckled on their armour. The citizens gathered on
the walls to hurl down the piles of stones which had
been collected, and all prepared for the assault.

" Sir John Powis," the countess said, " I pray you to
grant me one of your esquires, who may attend me
while I ride about, and may bear my messages for me.
He will not be idle, nor will he escape his share of the
dangers ; for, believe me, 1 do not intend to hide myself
while you and your brave soldiers are fighting for me."

" Willingly, lady," Sir John answered. " Here is
Walter Somers, the son of a good knight, and himself
brave and prudent beyond his years; he will, I am
sure, gladly devote himself to your service."

The French, encouraged by their successes, thought
that it would be a comparatively easy task to capture so
small a place as Hennebon, and as soon as their camp
was pitched they moved forward to the attack.

" Come with me, Master Somers," the countess said.
" I will mount to one of the watch-towers, where we
may see all that passes."

Walter followed her, and marvelled to see the liglit-
ness and agility with which the heroic countess,
although clad in armour, mounted the rickety ladders
to the summit of the watch-tower. The French were
pressing forward to the assault; their crossbow-men
opened a heavy fire upon the walls, which was
answered by the shafts of the little party of English
bowmen. These did much execution, for the English
archers shot far harder and straiohter than those of
France, and it was only the best armour which could

A SORTIE.

h the

clung.
; vest,
•ed on
;h had

keep out their cioth-yard shafts. So small a body,
however, could not check the advance of so large a
I'orce, and the French swarmed up to the very foot of
tho walls.

"Well done, my men!" the countess exclaimed, clap-
ping her hands, as a shower of heavy rocks fell among
the mass of the assailants, who were striving to plant
their ladders, crushing many in their fall; "but you
are not looking. Master Somers. What is it that you
see in yonder camp to withdraw your attention froni
such a tight?"

" I am thinking. Countess, that the French have left
their camp altogether unguarded, and that if a body
of horse could make a circuit and fall upon it, the
camp, with all its stores, might be destroyed before
thoy could get back to save it."

" You are right, young sir," the countess exclaimed,
" and it shall be done forthwith."

So saying, she descended the stairs rapidly and
mounted her horse, which stood at the foot of the tower;
then riding through the town, she collected a party of
about three hundred men, bidding all she met mount
their horses and join her at the gate on the opposite
side to that on which the assault was taking place.
Such as had no horses she ordered to ta ce them from
those in her own stables. Walter was mounted on one
of the best of the count's chargers. Immediately the
force was collected, the gate was opened and the coun-
tess rode forth at their head. Making a considerable
detour, the party rode without being observed into the
rear of the French camp. Here only a few servants
and horse-boys w^ere found, these were at once killed or
driven out; then all dismounting, set fire to the tents
and stores; and ere the French were aware of what

134

A HOT CHASE.

I: I

was going on, the whole of their camp was in flames.
As soon as the conflagration was perceived, the French
commanders drew ott' their men from the attack, and
all ran at full speed towards the camp.

"We cannot regain the town," the countess sai<l;
" we will ride to Auray at full speed, and re-enter tlie
castle when best we may."

Don Louis of Spain, who with a considerable follow-
ing was fighting in the French ranks, hearing from the
flying camp-followers that the countess herself was at
the head of the party which had destroyed the camp,
instantly mounted, and with a large number of horse-
men set ofl' in hot pursuit. A few of the countess's
party who were badly mounted were overtaken and
slain, but the rest arrived safely at Auray, when the
gates were shut in the face of their pursuers.

The blow was a heavy one for the besiegers, but
they at once proceeded to build huts, showing that
they had no intention of relinquishing the siege. Spies
were sent from Auray, and these reported that the
new camp was established on the site of the old one,
and that the French evidently intended to renew the
attack upon the side on which they had first com-
menced, leaving the other side almost unwatched.

Accordingly, on the fifth day after leaving the town
the countess prepared to return. Except Walter, none
were informed of her intention, as she feared thai
news might be taken to the French camp by friends
of Charles of Blois; but as soon as it was nightfall,
and the gates were shut, the trumpet sounded to horse.
In a few minutes the troop assembled in the market-
place, and the countess, accompanied by Walter, placing
herself at their head, rode out from the town. The
strictest silence was observed. On nearinff the town

tcr t\ie

EoUow-
om t\io
was at
e camp,
I horsc-
mntcss's
iicn and
/ben the

A CAKKLESS WATCH.

13a

all were directed to dismount, to tear up the horse-
cloths, and to muffle the I'ect of their horses. Then
the journey was resumed, and so careless was the watch
ivcpt by the French that they passed through the
sentries unobserved, and reached in safety the gate
from which they had issued. As they neared it they
were challenged from the walls, and a shout of joy
was heard when Walter replied that the countess
herself was present. The gates were opened and the
party entered. The news of their return rapidly ran
through the town, and the inhabitants, hastily attiring
themselves, ran into the streets, tilled with joy. Much
depression had been felt during her absence, and few
had entertained hopes that she would be able to re-
enter the town. She had brought with her from
Auray two hundred men, in addition to the party that
had sallied out.

i I

iii;r,:r

:^!h,'M

CUAriER IX.

THE SIEGE OF IIEXXEIJON.

II ij

(' .

1,1

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■

'IE besiegers of Ilennebon were prontly dis-
couraged at tlie succ(>ss of the entorprise of
tlie counte.s.s. They lind ah'eady attejii|)te(l
several desperate as.-,aults, but Imd each time
been repulsed with vejy heavy loss. They
now sent to Rennes for twelve of the iinniense machines
used in battering walls, which had Ix'cn left behind
there on a false report of the weakness of Hennebon.
PendinsT the arrival of these, Charles of Blois with one
division of the army marched away to attack Auray,
leaving Don Louis to carry on the siege with a force
considered amply sufficient to compel its surrender
after the arrival of the battering machines.

In a few days these arrived and were speedily set
to work, and immense masses of stone were hurled at
the walls.

Walter continued to act as the countess's especial
8(iuire. She had informed Sir William Caddoudal and
Sir John Powis that it was at his suggestion that she
hiid made the sudden attack upon the French camp,
and he had gained great credit thereby.

The ellect of the new machines was speedily visible.
The walls crumbled under the tremendous blows, and

TRKACHKIIY WITHIN.

137

altiionErh thoarcliors Imrasscrl by thoir aiTows tlio mon
Nvorkin<,' tlieni, tho French spueclily erected screeiiH
which slielterod them from their live. Tho spirits of
the ild'enilers bcG^an to sink rapidly, as tliey saw that
ill a very short time j^reat breaches would l)e made in
the wulls, and that all the horrors and disasters of a
city taken by a.ssault awaited them. The Bishop of
(juiiiiper, who was within the walls, entered into secret
neijotiations with his nephew, Henry de Leon, who had
1,'one over to the enemy alter the surrender of Nantes,
und was now with the besieging army. The besiegers,
delighted to find an ally within the walls who might
.save them from the heavy losses which an a.ssanlt
would entail upon them, at once ( lubraced his oilers,
iiiul promised him a large recompense if he would
hriii'' over the other connnanders and nobles. The
wily bi.shop set to work, and the con.sequences were
soon visible. Open grumbling broke forth at the
hardships which were endured, and at the prospect
of the wholesale slaughter which would attend a storm
when all hope of a successful resistance was at an end.
"I fear, Walter," Sir John said one morning, "that
the end Is at hand. On all sides submission is spoken
of, and all that I can say to keep up their spirits is
useless. U})on our own little band we can rely, but I
doubt if outside them a single determined man is to be
found in the town. In vain do I speak of the arrival
of Sir Walter Manny. Nearly ninety days have elapsed
since we sailed, and all hope of his coming is gone. 1
point out to them that contrary winds have been blow-
injT, and that at any moment he may arrive; but they
will not hear me. The bishop has gained over the
whole of them by his promises that none shall be
uiolosted in property or estate should they surrender."

I :M'

ii i

!.'

111;

;: r : 'J

li^

:'' ',t

il '

138

THE LAf.T SUy^t.ONS.

" It is sad to see the countess," Waiter replied; "she
who has shown such high spirit throughout the siege
now dees nothing but weep, for she kno.^s that with
her and her child in the hands of the French the cause
of the count is lost. If she could carry oH' the child by
sea she would nc^ so much care for the fall of the
town, but the French ships lie thick round the port,
and tiiere is no hope of breaking through."

Two days later the conspiracy came to a head, and
the people, assembling round the countess's house, clam-
oured for surrender. The breaches were open and
the enemy might pour in at any time and put all to
the sword. The countess beuffed for a little further
delay, but in vain, and withdrew to the turret where
she had for so many weary week.^ watched the horizon,
in hopes of seeing the sails of the approaching fleet.
Walter was afc the time with Sir John Powis on the
walls. Presently a large body of French were seen
approaching headed by Henry de Leon, who summoned
the town to surrender. Many standing on the walls
shouted that the gates should be thrown open ; but Sir
John returned for answer that he must confiult the coun-
tess, and that upon her answer must depend whether
he and his men would defend the breach until the last.

"Come with me, Walter," he said, "we must

rain

persuade the countess. If she says no, we Englishmen
will die in the breach; but though ready to give my
life for so brave a lady, I own that it is useless to fight
longer. Save our own little band not one in the town
will lift a sword again. Such resistance as we can
oflTer will but inflame ohem to fury, and all the horrors
of a sack will be inflicted upon the inhabitants. There
she is, poor lady, on the tuiret, gazing, as usual, sea-
ward." '

TUE LOXG-AWAITED SUCCOU'^.S.

139

Sudajnly they saw her throw up her arms, and then
turning towards the city she cried, as she perceived the
Enghjh knight, "1 see them! I see them! The Eng-
lish fleet are coming!"

"Run up, Walter," Sir John exclaimed, *'maybe the
countess is distraught with her sorrows."

Walter dashed up to the turret, and looking seaward
beheld rising over the horizon a number of masts.

"Hurrah! Sir John," he shouted, "we are saved, the
Erciish fleet is in sij:;ht."

ii'aijy others heard the shout, and the tidings ran
like lightning through the town. In wild excitement
the people ran to the battlements and roofs, and with
clieering and clapping of hands hailed the appearance
of the still far-dista'x+- fleet. The church bells rang
out joyfully and the whole town was wild with excite-
ment.

The Bishop of Quimper, finding that his p'ans were
frustrated, gathered around him some of those who
had taken a leading part in the intrigue. These,
leavmg the city by a gate at which they had placed
some of their own faction to open it to the French,
issued out and made their way to the assailants'
camp, to give news of the altered situation^ Don
Louis at once ordered an attack to be made with his
whole force, in hopes of capturing the place before the
arrival of the English succour. But, animated by their
new hopes, those so lately despondent and ready to
yield manned the breaches and repulsed with great
slaughter all attempts on the part of the French to
carry them. While the struggle v^as still going on,
the countess, aided by the wives of the burghers, busied
herself in preparing a sumptuous feast in honour of
her deliverers who were fast approaching, their ships

p i

i'lt

I :

i .:ri

1 1 ,

1 1 •' '

1 ' '

1 ,

1 ,' ' ■

140

THE RELIEF OF HEXNEBON.

i"l!

iriipolled by a strong and favourable breeze. Tlie
vessels of the French hastily drew off, and the Enf^li.sh
fleet sailed into the port hailed by the cheers of tlie
inhabitants. Tlie countess herself received Sir Walter
Manny on his I.uiding, and the townspeople vied with
each other in ofFering hospitality to the men-at-arms
and archers.

"Ah! Sir John Powis," Sir Walter exclaimed, "M'luit,
are you here ? I had given you up for lost. Wa
thought you had gone down in the gale the night you
started."

" We were separated from the fleet, Sir Walter, but
the master held on, and we arrived here four days
after we put out. We took part in the siege of Rennes,
.and have since done our best to aid the countess here."

" And their best has been much," the countess said ;
" not to say how bravely they have fought upon the
walls, it is to Sir John and his little band that I owe
it that the town was not surrendered days ago. They
alone remained steadfast when all others fell away,
and it is due to them that I am still able, as mistress
of this town, to greet you on your arrival. Next to
Sir John himself, my thanks are due to your youncj
esquire, Walter Somers, who has cheered and stood by
me, and to whose suggestions I owe it that I was able
at the first to sally out and destroy the French camp
while they were attacking the walls, and so greatly
hindered their measures against the town. And now,
sir, will you follow me? I have prepared for you and
your knights such a banquet of welcome as our poor
means will allow, and my townspeople will see that
good fare is set before your soldiers."

That evening there was high feasting in the town,
although the crash of the heavy stones cast by the

A DASIIINO SORTIE.

141

alter, but
our days
•f Kennes,
,ess hero."
.tens said ;
upon the
hat I owe
TO. They
tell away,
,8 mistress
Next to
our youno;
i stood by
I was able
anch camp
so greatly
And now,
)r you and
,s our poor
ill see that

French machines against the walls never ceased. Early
the next morning Sir Walter Manny made a survey of
the place and of the disposition of the enemy, and pro-
posed to his knights to Kally forth at once and destroy
the largest of the enemy's machines, which had been
brought up close to the walls. In a few minutes the
knights were armed and mounted. Three hundred
knights and esquires were to take part in the sortie,
they were to be followed by a strong body of men-at-
arms.

As soon as the gates were opened a number of
archers issued out, and taking their place at the edge
of the moat, poured a rain of arrows upon the men
working the machine and those guarding it. Most of
these took to flight at once, the remainder were cut
down by the men-at-arms, who at once proceeded to
hew the machine in pieces with the axes with which
they were provided. Sir Walter himself and his
mounted companions dashed forward to the nearer
tents of the French camps, cut down all who opposed
them, and setting fire to the huts retired towards the
city.

By this time the French were thoroughly alarmed,
and numbers of knights and men-at-arms dashed after
the little body of English cavalry. These could have
retrained the place in safety, but in the chivalrous spirit
of the time they disdained to retire without striking a
blow. Turning their horses, therefore, and laying their
lances in rest, they charged the pursuing French.

For a few minutes the conflict was desperate and
many on both sides were ov:tthrown; then, as large
reinforcements were continaally arriving to the French,
Sir Walter called off his men and retired slowly. On
reaching the moat he halted his forces. The knighta

I \

142

A DECISIVE REPULSE.

wlieeled and presented a firm face to the enemy, cover-
ing the entrance of their followers into the gate. The
French chivalry thundered down upon the little body,
but were met by a storm of arrows from the archers
lining the moat. Many kniglits were struck through
the bars of their vizors or the joints of their mail.
The horses, though defended by iron trappings, fell
dead under them, or, maddened by pain, dashed wildly
through the ranks carrying confusion with them, and
the French commanders, seeing how heavy were their
losses, called off their men from the assault. Sir Walter
Manny with his party remained without the gate until
the enemy had re-entered their camp, and then rode
into the town amid the acclamations of the inhabitants,
the countess herself meeting her deliverers at the gate
and kissing each, one after the other, in token of her
gratitude and admiration.

The arrival of the reinforcements and the proof of
skill and vigour given by the English leader, together
with the terror caused by the terrible effect of the
English arrows, shook the resolution of Don Louis and
his troops. Deprived of half their force by the absence
of Charles of Blois, it was thought prudent by the
leaders to withdraw at once, and the third morning
after the arrival of Sir Walter Manny the siege was
raised, and the French marched to join Charles of Blois
before the Castle of Auray.

Even with the reinforcements brought by Sir Walter
Manny, the forces of the Countess of Montford were
still so greatly inferior to those of the divisions of the
French army that they could not hope to cope with
them in the field until the arrival of the main Enolish
army, which the King of England himself was to bring
over shortly. Accordingly the French laid sieire to

THE DIVISION OF DON LOUIS.

143

ai.-l captured many small towns and castles. Charles
of Blois continued the siege of Auray, and directed
Don Louis with his division to attack the town of
Dinan. On his way the Spaniard captured the small
fortress of Conquet and put the garrison to the sword.
Sir Walter Manny, in spite of the inferiority of hia
force, sallied out to relieve it, but it was taken before
his arrival, and Don Louis had marched away to Dinan,
leaving a small garrison in Conquet. It was again
captured by Sir Walter, but finding it indefensible he
returned with the whole of his force to Hennebon,
Don Louis captured Dinan and then besiegtd Gue-
rande. Here he met with a vigorous resistance, but
carried it by storm, and gave it up to be pillaged by
his soldiers. He now sent back to Charles of Blois the
greater part of the French troops who accompanied
him, and embarked with the Genoese and Spanish,
8000 in number, and sailed to Quimperle, a rich and
populous town in Lower Brittany.

Anchoring in the River Leita he disembarked his
troops, and leaving a guard to protect the vessels
marched to the interior, plundering and burning, and
from time to time despatching his booty to swell the
immense mass which he brought in his ships from the
sack of Gueranda

Quimperle lies but a short distance from Hennebon,
and Sir Walter Manny with Almeric de Clisson, a
number of English knights, and a body of English
archers, in all three thousand men, embarked in the
ships in tJie port, and entering the Leita captured the
enemy's fleet and all his treasure. The English then
landed, and dividing into three bodies, set out in search
of the enemy.

The Enulish columns marched at a short distance

\'' I!

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144

THE ROUT OF TIIK Sl'AXIARDS.

apart so as to be able to give each other assistance in
case of attack. The news of the English approach
Boon reached the Spaniards, who were gathered in a
solid body, for the enraged country people, armed with
clubs and bills, hung on their flanks and cut off any
stragglers who left the main body. Don Louis at once
moved towards the sea-coast, and coming in sight of one
of the English divisions, charged it with his whole force.

The English fought desperately, but the odds of
seven to one were too great, and they would have
been overpowered had not the other two divisions ar-
rived on the spot and fallen upon the enemy's flanks.
After a severe and prolonged struggle the Genoese and
Spaniards were completely routed. The armed peas-
antry slew every fugitive they could overtake, and of
the 7000 men with whom Don Louis commenced the
battle only 300 accompanied him in his flight to
Rennes, the troops of Sir Walter and de Clisson pur-
suing him to the very gates of that city. Sir Walter
marched back with his force to the ships, but findini,'
the wind unfavourable returned to Hennebon by land,
capturing by the way the castle of Goy la Foret,
Their return was joyfully welcomed, not only f(;r the
victory which they had achieved, but because the enemy
was again drawing near to the town. Auray had
fallen. The brave garrison, after existing for some
time upon the flesh of their horses, had endeavoured
to cut their way through the besiegers. Most of them
were killed in the attempt, but a few escaped and made
their way to Hennebon.

Vannes, an important town, and Carhaix quickly
surrendered, and the French force was daily receiving
considerable reinforcements. This arose from .the fact
that large numbers of French nobles and knights had,

ill

HENNEBON AGAIN BESIEGED.

145

with their followers, taken part vvith Alfonso, Kini? of
Castile and Leon, in his war with the Moors. This
had just terminated with th(! expulsion of the latter
from Spain, and the French knights and nobles on
tlu'ir way home for the most part joined at once in the
war which their countrymen were waging in Bretagne.

Seeing the great force which was gathering for a
fresh siege of Henncbon, Sir Walter Manny and the
Countess of Montford sent an urjxent messajre to Kin;;
Edward for further support. The king was not yet
ready, but at the beginning of Augnst he despatched a
force under the command of the Earl of Northampton
and Robert of Ar<^ois. It consisted of twenty-seven
knights bannerets and 2000 men-at-arms. Before,
however, it could reach Hennebon the second siege of
that city had begun. Charles of Blois had approached
it with a far larger army than that with which he had
on the first occasion sat down before it. Hennebon
was, however, much better prepared than at first for
resistance. The walls had been repaired, provisions and
military stores laid up, and machines constructed. The
garrison was very much larger, and was commanded
by one of the most gallant knights of the age, and the
citizens beheld undaunted the approach of the great
French army.

Four days after the French had arrived before Hen-
nebon they were joined by Don Louis, who had been
severely wounded in the fight near Quiniperle, find
lif.d lain for six weeks at Rennes. Sixteen great
engines at once begun to cast stones against the walls,
but Sir Walter caused sand -bags to be lowered, and
so protected the walls from the attack that little
damage was done. The garrison, confident in their
powers to resist, taunted the assailants from the walls,

IW'ti

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lilifHit f

146

A sava(;e imun'ce.

f ^ :

i iii|

I ! Hill

and specially enraged the Spaniards and Don Louis liy
allusions to the defeat at Quimperld

So furious did the Spanish prince become that lio
took a sten unnrcjedeiited in those days of chivahy.
Ho one morning entered the tent of Charles of I^lois,
whore a number of Fieiich nobles were gathired, jiini
demanded a boon in rc(|uital of all his services. Charles
at once assented, when, to his surprise and liorror. Prince
Louis demanded chat tw^ Enfrlish knights. Sir John
Butler and Sir Hubert Frisnoy, who iiad been captured
in the course of the campaign and were kept prisoners
at Faouet, should be delivered to him to be executed.
"These English," he said, "have pursued, discomforted
nnd wounded me, and have killed the nephew whom 1
loved so well, and as I have none other mode of ven-
geance I will cut ort" their heads before their companions
who lie within those walls."

Charles of Blois and his nobles were struck with
auiazement and horror at the demand, and used every
means in their power to turn the savage prince from
his purpose, but in vain. They pointed out to liiin
that his name would be dishonoured in all countries
Wiiere the lav;s of chivalry prevailed by such a deed,
and besought h'ln,. to choose some other boon. Don
Louis refused to yield, and Charles of Blois, finding
no alternative between breakir.g his pioni\>e and li^-
live'-ing his prisoners, at last agreed to his request.

The prisoners were sent for, and were informed by
Don Louis himself of their approaching end. At tirst
they could not believe that he was in e-^-rn >st, for such
a proceeding was so utterly opposed to the spirit of
the times that it seemed impossible to them. Fin'J'"j,'
that he was in earn - ;t they warned him of the eternal
^tain which such a deed would bring upon his name.

AN ATTACK ON THE FRENCH CAMP.

147

The Spaniard, however, was unmoved either by their
words or by the entreaties of the French nobles, but
told them that he wcUd give them a few hours to
])iepare for death, and that they should be executed
in si-'ht of the walls after the usual dinner hour of the
luiny.

In those days sieges were not conducted in the strict
maniior in which they are at present, and non-combat-
niits passed without ditliculty to and fro between town
and camp. The news, therefore, of what was intended
speedily reached the garrison, whom it filled with in-
di<,'nation and horror. A council was immediately
called, and Sir Walter Manny proposed a plan, which
was instantly adopted.

Without loss of time Almericde Clisson issued forth
froiu the great gate of Hennebon, accompanied by 300
iiieii-at-arms and 1000 archers. The latter took post
at once along the edge of the ditches. The men-at-
erins rode straight for the enemy's camp, which was
undefended, the whole army being within their tents
at dinner. Dashing into their midst the English and
Breton men-at-arms bejjan to overthrow the tents and
to spear all that were in them. Not knowing the
extent of the danger or the smallness of the attacking
force, the French knights sprang up from table,
mounted, and rode to encounter the assailants.

For some time these maintained their ground against
all assaults until, finding that the whole army was
upon them, Almeric de Clisson gave order for his
troop to retire slowly upon the town. Fighting every
step of the ground and resisting obstinately ti.e re-
peated onslaught of the French, Clisson approached
the gate. Here he was joined by the archers, who
A\ ith bent bows prepaied to resist the advance of the

I •

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{

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148

THE I'lUSONKRS RESCUED.

French. As it appeared that the garrison were pre-
pared to give battle outside the walls, the vvholy
French army prepared to move aganst them.

In the meantime Sir Walter Manny, with 100 men-
at-arms and r)00 horse archers, issued by a sally-port on
the other side of the town, and with all speed rudi-
round to the rear of the French cainp. There he foun i
none to oppose him save servants and camp-followors,
and making his way straight to the tent of Charles of
Blois, wherfe the two knights were confined, he soon
freed them from their bonds. They were mountetl
without wasting a moment's time upon two spare horsos,
and turning again the whole party rode back towuids
Hennebon, and had reached the postern gate before tlie
fugitives from the camp reached the French commandtis
and told them what had happened.

Seeing that he was now too late, because of De Clis-
son's sortie, Charles of Blois recalled his army from the
attack, in which he could only have sufl'ered heavily
from the arrows of the archers and the missiles from
the walls. The same day, he learned from some pri-
soners captured in the sortie, of the undiminished
spirit of the garrison, and that Hennebon was amply
supplied by provisions brought by sea. His own army
was becoming straitened by the scarcity of supplif*
in the country round, h<: therefore determined at oner
to raise the siege, and to besiege some place where he
would encounter less serious resistance.

Accordingly next morning he drew off his army and
marched to Carhaix.

Shortly afterwards the news came that the Earl of
Northampton and Robert of Artois, with their force,
had sailed, and Don Louis, with the Genoese anl
other Italian mercenaries, started to inteicept them

THE SIEGE OF YAXXES.

149

3t' De Clis-
y from the
ed heavily
ssiles from
\ some pii-
idiminisbetl
was amply
9 own army
of Jjupplit;^
ned at once
ce where he

witli a large fleet. The fleets itiet ofl the island of
(imriisey, and a severe engagement took place, which
lasted till night. During the darkness a tremendous
.stonu burst upon them and the combatants separated.
Tim English succeeded in making their way to Brittany
and landed near Vann^'s. The Spaniards captured
iuur small ships which had been separated in the storm
I'roni their consorts, but did not succeed in regaining
the coast of Brittany, being driven south by the storm
as far as Spain. The Earl of Northampton at once laid
.siege to Vannes, and Sir Walter Manny moved with
every man that could be spared from Hennebon to
assist him.

As it was certain that the French army would press
forward with all speed to relieve the town, it was
decided to lose no time in battering the walls, but
to attempt to carry it at once by assault. The walls,
however, were so strong that there seemed little pros-
pect of .success attending such an attempt, and a j)lan
was therefore determined upon by which the enemy
might be thrown off their guard. The assault com-
menced at three points in the eaily morning and
was continued all day. No great vigour, however,
was shown in these attempts, which were repulsed at
all points.

At nightfall the assailants drew off to their camp,
and Oliver de Clisson, who commanded the town,
suffered his weary troops to quit the walls and to seek
lor refreshment and repose. The assailants, however,
did not di.sarm, but after a suflRcient tnne" had elapsed
to allow the garrison to lay aside their armour two
strong parties attacked the principal gates of the town,
while Sir Walter Manny and the Earl of Oxford moved
round to the opposite side with ladders for an escalade.

150

A SUCCKSSKUL RUSE.

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I , 1 1

'J'he plan was successful. The ;»airisou, finatcliing up
their arms, hurried to repel their attack \ipon tlie
gates, every man hastening in that direction. Sir
Walter Manny with his party were therefore enahlcd
to mount the walls unobserved and make their way
into the town; here they fell upon the defenders in the
rear, and the sudden onslaught spread confusion iukI
terror among them. The parties at the gates forces 1
their way in and joined their friends, and the whohiol'
the garrison were killed or taken prisonei*s, save a few,
including Oliver Clisson, who made tlieir escape liy
sally-ports. Robert of Artois, with the Earl of StatlonI,
was left with a garrison to hold the town. The Earl
of Salisbury, with four thousand men, proceeded to
lay siege to Rennes, and Sir Walter Manny hasteucci
back to Hennebon.

•■'tMiie of Sir Walter's men formed part of the gani-
soii of Vannes, and among these was Sir John I'uwis
with a hundred men-at-arms.

The knight had been so pleased with Walter's cool-
ness and courage at the siege at Hennebon that he
requested Sir Walter to leave him with him at Vannes.
"It is possible," he said to Walter, "that we may have
fighting here. Methinks that Sir Walter would have
done better to leave a stronger force. The town is a
large one, and the inhabitants ill-disposed towards us.
Oliver Clisson and the French nobles will feel their
honour wounded at the way in which we outwitted
them, and will likely enough make an effort to regain
the town. However, Rennes and Heanebon are not
far away, and we may look for speedy aid from the
Earl of Salisbury and Sir Walter should occasion arise. "

Sir John's previsions were speedily verilied. Oliver
Clisson and his friends were determined to wipe out

DI£I.I:AGUBUED by TlIK FIIKXCH.

151

tlicir defeat and scattered throtij/li the countrj', raiHinrj
vuluntourH from ainonj,' the Holdiery in all the nei;,'h-
bouring towns aii<l castles, and a month aftor Vannes
was taken thoy suddenly appeared before the town
with an army of 12,000 men, commanded l»y lieau-
inanolr, marshal of Brotagne for Charles of lUois, The
Kiiine reasons which had induced the Karl of North-
ampton to decide upon a speedy assault instead of the
kIow process of breaching the walls, actuated the French
in pursuing the same course, and, divided into a num-
ber of storming parties, the army advanced at once to
tlie assault on the walls. The little garrison prepared
for the defence.

"The outlook is bad, Walter," Sir John Powis said.
"These men a[)proach with an air of resolution wliich
shows that they are bent upon success. They out-
number us by twelve to one, and it is likely enough
that the citizens may rise and attack us in the rear.
They have been ordered to bring the stones for the
machines to the walls, but not one has laid his hand
to the work. We must do our duty as brave men, my
lad, but I doubt me if yonder is not the last sun which
we shall see. Furious as the French are at our recent
success here you may be sure that little quarter will

be given."

--^--

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CHAPTER X.

A PLACE OF REFUGE.

ifOo c>av. |HE French, excited to the iitrr.ost by the ex-
|^|j hortatioMS of their commanders, and by their
'Wj desire to wipe out the disgrace of the easy
"J)) capture of Vannes by the English, advanced
with nrdour to the assault, and officers and
men vied with each otlier in the valour which they
displayed. In vain did the garrison shower arrows
and cross-bow bolts among them, and pour down boil-
ing oil and quicklime upon them as thoy thronged at
the foot of the wall. In vain were the ladders, time
after time, hurled back loaded with men upon the
mass l>elow. The c {forts of the men-at-arms to scale
the defences were seconded by tbcii" archers and cross-
bow-men, who shot such a slorm of bolts that great
numbers of the defenders were killed. The assault
was made at a score of difi'ercnt points, and the garrison
was too weak to defend all with success. Sir John
Po'vis and his party repulsed over and over again the
efforts of the assailants against that part of the wall
intrusted to theuj, bdt at other points the French
gained a footing, and swarming up mshcd along the
walls, slaying all whom they encountered.

"All is lost," Sir John exclaimed; "lot us fall back
to the castle and die iighting there."

y the ex-
1 by their
the easy
advanced
po^rs and
liich they
er arrows
own boil-
ronccod at
Jers, fnne
upon the
IS to scale
and cross-
that great
he assault
le ojarrison
Sir John
again the
)f the wall
he French
along the

THE SLAUGHTER OF THE GARRISON.

153

Descending from the wall the party made their way
tlirough the streets. The French were already in the
town; every house was closed and barred, and from
the upper windows the burghers hurled down stones
and bricks upon the fugitives, while parties of the
French soldiers fell upon them fiercely. Many threw
down their arms and cried f^c quarter, but were in-
stantly slain.

For a while the streets were a scene of wild eon-
fusion; here and there little knots of Englishmen stood
together and defended themselves until tlie last, others
lan through the streets chased by their exulting foes,
some tried in vain to gain shelter in the houses. Sir
John Powis's band was soon broken and scattered,
and their leader slain by a heavy stone from a house
top. Walter fought his way blindly forward towards
tlie castle although he well knew that no refuge would
lie found there. Ila,]ph Smith kept close beside him,
levelling many of his assailants with the tremendous
blows of a huge mace. Somehow, Walter hardly knew
liow, they made their way through their assailants and
dashed in at the castle gate. A crowd of their assail-
ants were close upon their heels. Walter glanced round ;
(lashing across the court-yard he ran through some
passages into an inner j'ard, in which, as he knew, was
tlie well. The bucket hun£j at the windlass.

"Catch hold, Ralph!" he exclaimed; "there is just a
chance, and we may as well be drowned as killed."
They grasped the rope and jumped off. The bucket
hegan to descend with frightful velocity. Faster and
faster it wont and yet it seemed a long time before
they plunged into the water, which was nigh a hundred
it'et below the surface. Fortunately the rope was con-
siderably longer than was necessary, and they sank

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154

AN UNPLEASANT POSITION.

:« ■',':

'p\

ilitl

many feet into the water, still retaining their hold.
Then clinging to the rope they h&nlod themselves to
the surface.

" We cannot hold on here five minutes " Ralph ex-
claimed, " my armour is dragging me down."

" We will soon get rid of that," Walter said. " There
go our helmets; now I will hold on with one hand and
help you to unbuckle your breast and back pieces; you
do the same for me."

With great efforts they managed to rid themselves
of their armour, and then held on with ease to the
rope. They hauled the bucket to the surface and
tied a knot in the slack of the rope, so that the bucket
hung four feet below the level of the water. Putting
their feet in this, they were able to stand with their
heads above the surface without difficulty.

" This is a nice fix," Ralph exclaimed. " I think it
would have been just as well to have been killed at
once. They are sure to find us here, and if they don't
we shall die of cold before to-morrow morning."

" I don't think they will find us," Walter said cheer-
fully. "When they have searched the castle thoroughly
it may occur to some of them that we have jumped
down the well, but it will be no particular business of
any one to look for us, and they will all be too anxious
to get at the wine butts to trouble their heads about
the matter; besides, it must be a heavy job to wind up
this bucket, and it is not likely there wiil be such
urgent need of water that anyone will undertake the
task."

" But we are no better off if they don't," Ralph re-
marked, "for we must die here if we are not hauled
out. I suppose you don't intend to try and climb that
rope. 1 might do twenty feet or so on a pinch, but I

HOW TO ESCAPE.

155

coulJ no more get up to the top there than I could
lly."

"We must think it over," Walter rejoined; "where
there is a will there's a way, you know. We will take
it by turns to watch that little patch of light over-
head; if we see anyone looking down we must leave
the bucket and swim to the side without making the
least noise. They may give a few turns of the wind-
lass to see if anyone has hold of the rope below;
be sure you do not make the slightest splashing or
noise, for the sound would be heard above to a cer-
tainty."

Ten minutes later they saw two heads appear above,
and instantly withdrew their feet from the bucket ana
made a stroke to the side, which wus but four feet
distant, being Cireful as they did so that no motion
was imparted to the rope. Then, though it was too
dark to see anything, they heard the bucket lifted
from the water. A minute later
with a splash, then all was quiet.

" We are safe now, and can take our place in the
bucket. They are satisfied that if we did jump down
here w ' are drowned. And now we must think about
climbing up,"

"Ay, that will require a good deal of thinking,"
Ralph grumbled.

For some time there was silence; then Walter said,
" The first thing to do is to cut off the slack of the rope,
there are some twelve feet of it. Then we will unwind
the strands of that. There are five or six large strands
as far as I can feel; we will cut them up into lengths
of about a couple of feet, and we ought to be able to
tie these to the rope in such a way as not to slip down
with our weight. If we tie them four feet apart

it fell back again

! H

J 1 Hi ll:'! I ■;!

ll ll r i li

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156

MAKING STEPS.

we can go up step by step; I don't see much difficulty
about that."

" No," Ralph said much more cheerfully, "I should
think that we could manage that."

They at once set to work. The rope was cut up and
unravelled, and the strands cut into pieces about two
foet long. They then both set to work trying to dis-
cover some way of fastening it by which it would not
slip down the rope. They made many fruitless
attempts; each time that a strand was fastened with
a loop large enough for them to pass a leg through, it
slid down the rope when their weight was applied to
it. At last tliey succeeded in finding out a knot whicli
would hold. This was done by tying a knot close to
one end of a piece of the strand, then sufficient was
loft to form the loop, and the remaindei* was womi<l
round the rope in such a way that the weight only
served to tighten its hold.

"Shall we begin at once?" Ralph said, when success
was achieved.

" No, we had better wait until nightfall. The vibra-
tion of the rope when our weight once gets on it miglit
be noticed by anyone crossing the court-yard."

" Do you think we have sutHcient bits of rope, '
Ralph asked.

"Just enough, I think," Walter replied; "there were
six strands, and each has made six pieces, so we have
thirty-six. I know the well is about a hundred feet
deep, for the other day I heard some of the soldiers
who were drawing water grumbling over the labour
required. So if we ])ut them three feet apart it will
take thirty-three of theni, which will leave three over;
but we had better place them a little over a yard so
as to niake sure."

1 success

A LONG CLIMB.

157

In a short time the fading brightness of the circle of
lioht far overhead told thein that twilight had com-
nienced, and shortly afterwards they attached the tiist
strand to the rope some three feet above the water.

" ]Sow," Walter said, " I will go first, at anyrate
for a time. I must put one leg through the loop, and
sit, as it were, while I fasten the one ab'^ve, as I shall
v.ant both hands for the work. You will find it a
good deal easier to stand with your foot in the loo]).
If I get tired I will fasten another loop by tiie side of
that on wliich I am resting, so you can come up and
pass me. There is no hurry. It ought not to take up
ahove an hour, and it will not do for us to get to the
top until the place becomes a little quiet. To-night
they are sure to be drinking and feasting over their
victory until late."

They now set to work, and step by step mounted
the rope. They found the work less arduous than they
had expected. The rope wi.s dry, and the strands held
tightly to it. Two or three times they changed places,
resting in turn from their work ; but in less than two
hours from the time they made the fii-st loop Walter's
head and shoulders appeared above the level of the
court-yard. He could hear sounds of shouting and
singing within the castle, and knew that a great feast
was going on. Descending a step or two he held
parley with Ralph.

" I think, perhaps, it will be better to sally out at
once. Every one is intent on his own pleasure, uv.d
we shall have no difiiculty in slipping out of the castle
unnoticed. All will be feasting and riot in the town,
and so long as we do not brush against any one so
that they may feel our wet ganuents we are little
likely to be noticed; besides, the gates of the town

138

ON THE SURFACE AGAIN.

: :i

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will stand open late, for people from the villages round
will have come in to join in the revels."

•' I am ready to try it, Master Walter," Ralph re-
plied, "for I ache from head to foot with holding on
to this rope. The sooner the better, say I."

In another minute both stood in the court-yard. It
was a retired spot, and none were passing. Going
along the passage they issued into the main yard.
Here great tires were blazing, and groups of men sat
round them drinking and shouting. Many lay about
in drunken sleep.

" Stay where you are in the shade, Ralph. You hiid
best lie down by the foot of the wall. Any one wlio
passes will think that you are in a drunken sleep. I
will creep forward and possess myself of the steel cai^s
of two of these drunkards, and if I can get a couple of
cloaks so much the better."

There was no difficulty about the caps, and by dint
of unbuckling the cloaks and rolling their wearers
gently over, Walter succeeded at last in obtaining two
of them. He also picked up a sword for Ralph — his
own still hung in its sheath — and then he joined his
companion, and the two putting on the steel caps and
cloaks walked quietly to the gate. There were none
on guard, and they issued unmolested into the town.
Here all was revelry. Eontires blazed in the streets.
Hogsheads of wine, with the heads knocked out, stood
before many of the houses for all to help themselves
who wished. Drunken soldiers reeled alons: shoutinir
snatches of songs, and the burghers in the highest state
of hilarity thronged the ways.

" First of all, Ralph, we will have a drink of wine,
for I am chilled to the bone."

" Ay, and so am I," Ralph replied. "I got hot enou<,d)

gate

them

none

Were

usfo]

Pr«

again

piowc

m ^

STOPPED AT THE GATES.

1.09

climbing that rope, but now the cold has got hold of
me again, and my teeth are chattering in my head."

Picking up one of the fallen vessels by a cask they
clipped it in and took a long draught of wine; then,
turning off from the principal streets, they made their
way by quiet lanes down to one of the gates. To their
(Jisinay they found that this was closed. The French
coiiinianders knew that Sir Walter Manny or Salis-
bury might ere this be pressing forward to relieve the
town, and that, finding that it had fallen, they might
attempt to recapture it by a sudden attack. While
permitting therefore the usual license, after a successful
assault, to the main body of their forces, they had
placed a certain number of their best troops on the
walls, giving them a handsome largess to make up for
their loss of the festivities.

At first Walter and his friend feared that their
retreat was cut off for the night, but several other
people presently arrived, and the officer on guard
said, coming out, "You must wait a while; the last
batch have only just gone, and I cannot keep opening
and closing the gate; in half an hour I will let you
out."

Before that time elapsed some fifty or sixty people,
anxious to return to their villages, gathered round the
gate.

" Best lay aside your steel cap, Ralph, before we join
them," Walter said. " In the dim light of that lamp
none will notice that we have no head-gear, but if it
were to glint upon the steel cap the officer might take
U3 for deserters and question us as to who we are."

Presently the oflScer came out from the guard-room
again. There was a forward movement of the little
piovvd, and W^alter and Ralph closed in to their midst.

... , ,

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rlfellNHLil

460

BEYOND THE WALLS.

The qates wort opened, and without any question tlio
vill . rs V — ed out, anr' the jifatos wtn. shut ihblantiv'
behind i.U'^a,

We' i)'\ \ his comrade at once started at a brisk
pace and walk ' ' all night in the direction of llennobon.
Their clothes sooi; dried, and elated at their escajiL!
from danger they struggled on briskly. When mor-
ning broke they entered a wood, and lay there till
evening, as they feared to continue their journey lost
they nught fall into the hands of some roving band uf
French horse. They were, too, dog-tired, and were
asleep a few minutes alter they lay down. The sun
was setting when they awoke, and as soon as it was
dark they resumed their journey.

" I don't know what you feel. Master Walter, but
I am well-nigh famished. It is thirty -six hours
since I swallowed a bit of food, just as the French
were moving to the pttack. Hard blows I don't
mind — I have been used to it; but what with fightinu,
and being in the water for five or cix hours, and
climbing up that endless rope, and walking all night
on an empty stomach, it does not suit me at all."

" I feel ravenous too, Ralph, but there is no help for
it. We shall eat nothing till we are within the walls
of Hennebon, and that will be by day'ight to-morrow
if all goes well. Draw your belt an inch or two
tighter, it will help to keep out the wolf."

They kept on all night, and in the morning saw to
their delight the towers of Hennebon in the distance.
It was well that it was no further, for both were so
exhausted from want of food that they could with
difficulty drag their legs along.

Upon entering the town Walter made his way at
once to the quarters of the let\der. Sir Walter had

mm 'i 1

a brisk
inobon.

;n mor-
lere till
nt-y lest
baud ut
nd were
Tbe sun
,3 it was

WITH FRIENDS AGAIN.

IGl

just risen, and was delighted at the sight o£ his
esqi'ire.

" I had given you up for dead," he exclaimed. " By
what miracle could you have escaped? Are you
alone?"

" I have with me only my faithful follower Ralph
.Smith, who is below; hut, Sir Walter, for mercy's sake
order that some food be placed before us, or we shall
have escaped from the French only to die of hunger
here. We have tasted noujilit since the attack on
Vannes began. Have any beside us escaped?"

" Lord Stalford contrived, with two or three other
to cut their way out by a postern-gate, bringing with
them Robert of Artois, who is grievously wounded.
None others, save you and your man-at-arms, have
made their way here."

In a few minutes a cold capon, several manchets of
bread, and a stoop of wine were placed before Walter,
while Ralph's wants were attended to below. When
he had satisfied his hunger the young esquire related
his adventures to Sir Walter and several other knights
and nobles, who had by this time gathered in the
room.

" In faith. Master Somers, you have got well out of
your scrape," Sir Walter exclaimed. " Had I been in
your place I should assuredly have perished, for I
would a thousand times rather meet death sword in
hand, than drop down into the deep hole of that well.
And your brains served you shrewdly in devising a
method of escape. What say you, gentlemen?"

All present joined in expressions of praise at the
lad's coolness and presence of mind.

" You are doing well, young sir," the English leader
^vent on, "and have distinguished yourself on each

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162

THE ARRIVAL OF THE KINO.

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occasion on which we have been engaged. I shall be
proud when the time comes to bostt)W upon you niyselt'
the order of knigiithood if our king does not take the
matter ofi' my hands."

A little later Robert of Artois died of his wounds
and disappointjuent at the failure of his hopes.

In October King Edward himself sot sail with a
great army, and landing in Brittany eaily in November
marched forward through the country ami soon reduced
Ploermel, Malestrail, Kedon, and the rest of the pro-
vince in the vicinity of Vannes, and tlien laid siege to
that town. As his force was far more than sutheiont
for the siege, the Earls of Norfolk and Warwick were
despatched in the direction of Nantes to reconnoitre
the country and clear it of any small bodies of the
enemy they might encounter. In the meantime Edward
opened negotiations with many of the Breton lords,
who, seeing that such powerful aid had arrived for the
cause of the Countess of Montford, wore easily per-
suaded to change sides. Among them were the lords
of Clisson, Moheac, Machccoul, Retz, and many others
of less importance.

The Count of Valontinois, who commanded the gar-
rison of Vannes, supported the siege with great courage
and fortitude, knowing that Charles of Blois and tlie
King of France were collecting a great army for his
relief. Uniting their forces they advanced towards the
town. Before the force of the French, 40,000 strong,
the Earl of Norfolk had fallen back and rejoined the
king, but even after this junction the French forces
exceeded those of Edward fourfold. They advanced
towards Vannes and formed a large entrenched camp
near that of the English, who thus, while still besiegiiig
Vannes, were themselves enclosed by a vastly supcridf

■IW

THE I'OPR's LEOATK.

16.?

force. The King of France himself arrived at the
Krcncli camp. The French, although so greatly superior,
made no motion toward attuckinjj the KnjxH.sh, iiut
iippoared bent u[)on eitiier starving them out or forcing
thorn to attack the strongly entrenched position oc-
Liipied by the French.

Provisions were indeed running short in the English
cfinip, and the arrival of supplies fi-om England was
cut oil' by a strong licet under Don Louis, which cruised
otl" the coast and captured all vessels arriving with
stores. At this moment two legates, the Cardinal
iSishop of Preneste and the Cardinal Bishop of Tus-
culum, arrived from the pope and strove to mediate
hetvveen the two sovereigns and to bring about a
cessation of hostilities, pointing out to tliem the scandal
and desolation which their rivalry caused in Chris-
tendom, the waste of noble lives, the devastation of
once happy provinces, and the effusion of innocent
blood. Going from camp to camp they exhorted,
pi-ayed, and repi-oached the rival sovereigns, urging that
while Christians were sheddinjj each other's blood in
vain, the infidels were daily waxing bolder and more
insolent. Their arfjuments would have been but of
little use had either of the monarchs felt sure of
victory. King Edward, however, felt that his position
was growing desperate, for starvation was staring him
in the face, and only by a victory over an immensely
superior force in a strongly entrenched position could
he extricate himself. Upon the part of the French,
however, circumstances were occurring which rendered
them anxious for a release from their position, for they
Mere not without their share of suffering. While the
English army lay on a hill the French camp was
J)itched on low ground. An unusually wet season had

! i

i ';

! 1 .

164

A TRUCE ARIl.Wfir.D.

set in witli bitterly cold wind. The rain was incossant,
a pestilcMifc had (Uf.stroyud a vast nuiulu'r of thoir
horfscs, and their oncainpnujnt was tloodtMl. Their forces
were therd'on^ ohli^ed to spread theiuselve.s over th;
iiei^dihouririf,' fields, and a sudden attack by the En^^-
lish n»i<dit have Ijeen fatal.

Thus distress pressed upon both conwnanders, ami
the pope's lej^oites found their exei-tions at last crowned
with success. A susj)ension of hostilities was ngree(l
to, and the Dukes of Burgundy and J^xmrbon on the
one side and the Earls of Lancaster, Northampton, ami
Salisbury on the other, met as commissioners and
agreed to a convention by which a general truce was
to be made from the date Oj the ti'eaty to the followim,'
Michaelmas, and to be prolonged from that day for the
full term of three years. It was agreed that the truce
should embrace not only the sovereigns, but all tlu'
adherents of eacli of them. The truce was to hoi I
good in Brittany between all parties, and the city "f
Vannes was to be, given into the hands of the cardinals
to dispose of as they chose. It was specially provided
that in the case of any ot the adherents of either party
in the Duchies of Gascony and Brittany waging war
against each other, neither of the monarchs should
eith'jr directly or indirectly medtUe therewith, nor
sh »uld the truce be at all broken thereby.

Immediately the treaty was signed, on the 19th of
January, 134:3, the King of France disndssed his army,
and Edward sailqd for England with the greater part
of his trocjps. The Countess of Montford and her son
accompanied him, and the possessions of her husband
in Brittany were left to the guardianship of her
partisans, with a small but choice body of English
troops.

lii

RETUllN TO ENGLAND.

1G5

nssant,

i\\vAr

• forces

srs, aii'l
;rowm'<l

agrefl
I on tilt'
iton, an<l
icvH ant I
iHice was
'oUovvhi;4
,y i'or tl\t'
the truce
t all Un-
to ht»M
\e city 'i'

cardinals

^)rovi(le<l
her party
kging war

us shouM
iwith, nor

[e 19th of
I his army,
teater part
Id her sou
|r husband
|ip of lii;r
,t' Englisli

The towns which had fallen into their hands and
still reuiained were Brest, i^tiiin|)er-C()rt!ntin, (^uiin-
jierli', Rodon, and (Jueraiide; Valines was handed over
to them by the cardinals, and lleiniebon, of coiuvse,
remained in their possession.

Walter returned to England with Sir Walter Ma.iny,
and on reaching London was received with delight hy
hid old friends CeotlVey Ward and (Jiles Fletcher, who
were never tired of listeninnr to his tales of the vvurs.
Dame Vernon also received him with great kindn(!ss,
and congratulated him warndy upon the very favour-
Hl)le account which Sir Walter Manny had given of his
zeal and gallantry.

The time now for a while passed very quietly.
Walter and the other young squires practised dili-
t^ently, under the instructions of Sir Walter, at knightly
exercises. Walter learned to bear himself well on horse-
back and to tilt in the ring. He was already a skilful
swordsman, but he spared no pains to improve himself
with his weapons. The court was a gay one, and
Walter, as a favoured esquire of one of the foremost
knights there, was admitted to all that took place. His
courtly education, of course, included dancing, and
when he went down, as he often did, for a long chat
with his old friends, GeottVey often said, laughing, that
he was growing such a fine gentleman that he hardly
liked to sit in his presence; but althouiih chantjed in
manner, Walter C(, itinued to be, as before, a frank,
manly young fellow, and free from the affectations
which were so genera' among the young men of riie
court

■iii

■ i : II i|

■ :ll»Jtli 'h'^

CHAPTER XL

A STORMY INTERVIEW.

OON after Walter's return from France Dame
Vornon returned to her country estate, and
a year passed before he again saw her.
Durinjj this time the truce which had been
established between England and France
had remained unbroken. It was certain, however, that
ere long the two powers would again come to blows.
The King of England had honourably observed tlie
terms of the treaty. Upon )iis return home he had
entirely disbanded his army and had devoted liis
whole attention to increasing the trade and prosperity
of the country. The measures which he took to do
this were not always popular with the people of Eng-
land, for seeing how greatly they excelled the Engli>li
manufacturers Edward encouraged laroe number.s of
Flemings and other foreign workmen to settle in Lon-
don, and gave them many privileges to induce them to
do so; this the populace strongly resented. There was
a strong ill feeling against the Fleminofs and serious
popular riots took place, for tb.e English traders and
workmen considered that these foreicjners were takinsf
the bread from their mouths. The kinor, however, was
wiser than his people, he saw that although the English

' m..":

FAH-«LEING MEASUUKS.

167

weavers were able to produce coarse cloths, yet that
all of the liner sort had to be imported from the Con-
tinent. He deemed that 'i time the Flemings would
teach their art to his subjects, and that England
would come to vie with the Low Countries in the
(juality of her produce. Such was indeed afterwards
the case, and England gained greatly by the impor-
tation of the industrious Flemings, just as she after-
wards profited from the expulsion from France of
tens of thousands of Protestant workmen who brought
here many of the manufactures of which France had
before the monopoly. The relations between England
and the Flemings were at this time very close, for the
latter regarded England as her protector against the
ambition of the King of France.

But while King Edward had laid aside all thought
of war, such was not the case with Phillip of Valois.
He had retired after the signature of the treaty full of
rage and humiliation; for hitherto in all their struggles
hib English rival had had the better of him, and against
vastly superior forces had foiled al^ his efforts and
had gained alike glory and military advantage. King
Edward had hardly set sail when Phillip began to
break the terms of truce by inciting the adherents of
Charles of Blois to attack those of De Montford, and
by rendering assistance to them with money and men.
He also left no means untried to detach Flanders from
its alliance with England Several castles and towns
in Bi'ittany v.-ere wrested from the partisans of De
Montford, and King Edward, alter many remonstrances
at the breaches of the conditions of the truce, began
again to make preparations for taking the field. Seve-
ral brilliant tournaments were held and every means
were taken to stir up the warlike spirit of the people.

•

!'i'

168

AN (ILn ACQUAINTAXCE.

tl'S

, H.M

One (lay Walter had attended his lord to the palaeii
and was waiting in the anteroom with many otiicr
squires and gentlemen, while Sir Walter, with hoiik^
other nol)lemen, was closeted with the kint]^, discussiiio-
the nieans to be adopted for raising i'vmds i'f r a re-
newel of a war with France, when a knight entered
wliom Waiter had not previously seen at court.

" Who is that?" he asked one of his accjuaintances ;
"niethinks I know his face, though it passes my memoiy
to sjiy where I liave seen it."

" He has been away fi"om Enf»land for some two
years," his friend answered. "That is Sir James Car-
negie ; he is a cousin of the late Sir Jasper Vernon ;
he left somewhat suddenly a short time after Dame
Vernon had that narrow escape from drowning that
you wot of ; he betook himself then to Spain, wheio
ho has been lighting the Moors; he is siud to be a
valiant knight, but otherwise he bears but an indiffer-
ent good reputation."

Walter remembcn-ed the face now ; it was that of the
knight he had scon enter the hut of the river pirate
on the Lainl >cth marshes. When released from <luty lie
at once made his way to the lodging of Dame Vemou.
Walter was now nineteen, for a year had elapsed since
the termination of the French w.ar, and he was \n
stature and strength the niatcii of most men, while his
skill at knightly exercises, as well as with the sword,
was recognized as pre-eminent among all the young
esquires of the court.

After the first greeting he said to Dame Vernon ;
" I think it right to tell you, lady, that 1 have but now .
in the king's antf^room, seen the man who plottdl
against your life in the hut at LandKith. His faco is
a marlretl one and I could not mistake it. I hear thnt

DAME ALICE AND HER KINSMAN.

109

he is a cousin of yours, one Sir James Carnegie, as you
doubtless recognized from my description of him. I
caine to tell you in order that you might decide what
my conduct should Le. If you wish it so I will keep
the secret in my breast; but if you fear aught from
him I will openly accuse him before the king of the
crime he attempted, and shall be ready to meet him
ill the ordeal of battle should he claim it."

" I have seen Sir James," Lady Veinon said. " I had
a letter writ in a feigned hand telling him that his
liaiidivvork in the plot against my life was known, and
warning him that, unless he left England, the proofs
thereof would be laid before justice. He at once sailed
lor Spain, whence he has returned but a few days
since. He does not know for certain thav I am aware
of his plottings against us; but he must have seen by
my reception of him when he called that I no longer
regard hiin with the friendship which I formerly en-
tertained. I have received a message from him tha^
he will call upon me this evening, and that he trusts
he will find me alone, as he would fain confer with
me on private matters. When I have learned his
intentions I shall be the better able to judge what
course I had best adopt. I would fain, if it may be,
let the matter rest. Sir James has powerful interest,
and I would not have him for an open enemy if I can
avoid it; besides, all the talk and publicity which so
grave an accusation against a knight, and he of mine
own family, would entail, would be very distasteful to
me; but should I find it necessary for the sake of my
child, I shall not shrink from it. I trust, however,
that it will not come to that; but I shall not hesitate
if need be, to let him know that I am acquainted with
his evil designs towards us. 1 will inform you of aa

170

Hlfi

(

i \ ! ' !

;!;.!;,

i,;ii,.'K

SIR JAMES CARXEOIE.

that

you

much of our interview as it is necessary
should know."

That evening Sir James Carnegie called upon Dame
Vernon. " I would not notice it the other day, fair
cousin," he said, in return for her stitt' and ceremonious
greeting; "but methinks that you are mightily changed
in your bearing towards n>e. I had looked on my
return from my long journeying for something of the
sisterly warmth with which you once greeted me, but I
find you as cold and hard as if I had been altogether
a stranger to you. I would fain know in what way
I have forfeited your esteem."

" I do not wish to enter in' ^ bygones. Sir James,"
the lady said, "and would fain let the past sleep it you
will let me. Let uz <^^hcn turn without more ado to iha
private matters concerning which you wished to speak
with ine."

" If such is your mood, fair dame, I must needs fall
in with it, though in no way able to understand your
allusion to the past, wherein my conscience holds iae
guiltless of aught which could draw upon me your dis-
favour. I am your nearest male relative, and as such
would fain confer with you touching the future of young
Mistress Edith, your daughter. She is now nigh thir-
teen yeai's of age, and is the heiress of broad lands; is
it not time that she were betrothed to one capable of
taking care ol' them i' x* her, and leading your vassals
to battle in these trouoled times?"

"Thanks, S> Jim'js, for your anxiety about my
child," Dane Vernon said coldly. "She is a ward of
the king. I am in no way anxious that an early choice
should be made for her; but our good Queen Philippa
has promised that, when the time shall come, his
Ma-jesty shall not dispo; e of her hand without my

AN OFFER FOtt EDlTIl's HAND.

171

wishes being in some way consulted; and I liave no
doubt tliat when the time shall come that she is of
iiiarriao-eable acre — and I would not that this should be
before she has gained eighteen years, for 1 like not the
over young marriages which are now in fashion — a
knight may be found for her husband capable of
taking care of her and her possessions; but may I ask
if, in so speaking to me, you have anyone in your
mind's eye as a suitor for her hand ? "

"Your manner is not encouraffinj;, certes; but I had
my plan, which wouh^ I hoped, have met with your
approval. I am the young lady's cousin, and her
nearest Psale relative; and although we are v ithin the
limited degrees, there will be no difficulty in obtaining
a dispensation from Rome. I am myself passably well
oti" and some of the mortgages which I had been forced
to lay upon my estates have been cleared off during
my absence. I have returned home with some rei)uta-
tion, and with a goodly sum gained in the wars with
the Moors. I am older than my cousin certainly; but
as 1 am still but thirty-two, this would not, I hope, be
deemed an obstacle, and methought that you would
rather intrust her to your aflectionate cousin than to
a stranger. The king has received me very graciously,
and would, I trust, offer no opposition to my suit were
it backed by your good- will,"

"1 suppose, Sir James," Dame Vernon said, "that T
should thank you for the offer which you have made,
but I can only reply, that while duly conscious of the
high honour you have done my daughter by your offer,
I would rather see her in her grave than wedued to
you."

The knight leapt from his seat with a fierce exclama-
tion. " This is too much," he exclaimed, " and I have

! ! 4 E'

i! I

liir^'il

I 'i

i-ii'l?

i3|f|i'!;|

172

A CIILSIIING ACCUSATION,

•^mm

a right to know why such an offer on my part should
be answered by disdain, and even insolence."

"You have a right to know," Dame Vernon answered
quietly, "and 1 will tell you. 1 repeat that I would
rather see my child in her grave than wedded to a
man who attempted to compass the murder of her and
her mother."

"What wild words are these?" Sir James asked
sternly. " What accusation is this that you dare to
bring ajjjainst me ? "

" 1 repeat what I said, Sir James," Dame Alice re-
plied quietly. "I know that you plotted with the
water pirates of Lambeth to upset our boat as we
came down the Thames; that you treacherously de-
layed us at Richmond in order that we might not
reach London before dark; and that by enveloping me
in a white cloak you gave a signal by which I might
be known to your creatures."

The knight stood for a moment astounded. He was
aware that the fact that he had had some share in the
outrage was known, and was not surprised that his
cousin was acquainted with the secret; but that she
should know all the details with which but one besides
himself was, as he believed, acquainted, completely
stupefied him. He rapidly, however, recovered himself.

" I recall now," he said scornfully, " the evidence
which was given before the justices by some ragged
city boy, to the eft'ect that he had overheard a few
words of a conversation between some ruffian over in
the Lambeth marshes, and an unknown person; but it
is new to me indeed that there was any suspicion that
I was the person alluded to, still less that a lady of my
own family, in whose afiection I believed, should credit
80 monstrous an accusation."

ill

rt should

answered
, I would
Ided to a
it' her and

nes asked
lU dare to

! Alice re-
with the
loat as we
;rously de-
might not
eloping nie
ch I might

d. He was
share in the
ed that his
ut that she
one besides
completely
jred himself,
he evidence
;ome ragged
leard a few
ffian over in
srson; but it
ispicion that
a lady oi my
should credit

s^l et

Hi!!

"I ^

Dame
stronnr
was II a
request
silence.'
"Anc
"that y
lit'triine
the wori
gentleni
"You
"You n
who ove
iiie and
attack \
he was
known
he has r^
should
no mer<
that he
possessoi
in hiofh
jlanny,
(Jistingu
Sir Wa
Ion or.

value to
does not
in the
formed,
"le in a
^y the 1

SIR JAMES'S ACCUSER.

173

"I would that I could discredit it, Sir Jamos,"
Dame Vernon said sadly; "but the proof's were too
stronj^ for me. Much more of your conversation than
was narrated in court was overheard, and it was at my
request that the ragged boy, as you call hiui, kept
silence."

"And is it possible," the knight asKed indignantly,
"that you believed the word of a fellow like this to the
ilotrinient to your kinsman? Why, in any court of law
tlie word of such a one as opposeil to that of a knight and
gentleman of honour would not be taken for a njouient."

"You are mistaken, sir," Dame Vernon said haughtily.
"You may remember, in the first place, that the lad
wlio overheard this conversation risked his life to save
me and my daughter froni the consequences of the
attack which he heard planned; in the second place,
he was no ragged lad, but the apprentice of a well-
known citizen; thirdly, and this is of importance, since
he has recognized you since your return, and is read}',
should I give him the word, to denounce you. He is
no mere apprentice boy, but is of gentle blood, seeing
that he is the son of Sir Roland Somers, the former
possessor of the lands which I hold, and that he is
in high favour with the good knight Sir Walter
Manny, whose esquire he now is, and under whom ho
distinguished himself in tlic wars in France, and is, a.s
Sir Walter assures me, certain to win his spurs ere
long. Thus you see his bare w^rd would be of equal
value to your own, beside the fact that his evidence
does not rest upon mere assertion; but that the man
in the hut promised to do what you actually per-
formed, namely, to delay me at Richmond, and to wrap
ine in a white cloak in order that I mijjht be recognized
hy the river pirates."

i U I i

i i

1 1 IM' >

n^^

■ 1 ''

i
n j

1
i!

':•■■: -'>

i:t

A READY LIB.

Sir James was silent. In truth, as he saw, tlio
eviflonce was overwhchningly strong against liim.
After a while he stammered out, " I cannot deny that
] was the man in question; but I swear to you that
this hoy was mistaken, and that the scoundrel acted
altogether beyond my instructions, which were simply
that he should boaid the boat and carry you and yonr
daughter away to a safe place."

"And with what object, sir," Dame Vernon said
contemptuously, " was I to be thus taken away i'"

" I do not seek to excuse myself," the knight re-
plied calmly, having now recovered his self-possession,
"for I own I acted wrongly and basely; but in truth I
loved you, and would fain have made you my wife. I
knew that you regarded me with only the calm ailuction
of a kinswoman; but I thought that were you in my
power you would consent to purchase your freedom
with your hand. 1 know now that I erred greuiy,
I acknowledge my fault, and that my conduct was
base and unk nightly, and my only excuse is the gnat
love I bore you."

"And which," the lady said sarcastically, "you have
now transferred to my daughter. I congratulate you,
Sir James, upon the possession of a ready wit and an
invention which does not fail you at a pinch, and of a
tongue which repeats unfalteringly any fable wliich
your mind may dictate. You do not, 1 suppose, expect
me to believe the tale. Still, I own that it is a well-
devised one, and might, at a pinch, pass muster; but
fear not. Sir James. As hitherto I have kept silence
as to the author of the outrage committed unon nie,
so I have no intention of proclaiming the truth now
unless yoa force me to do so. Suffice that both for
myself and for my daughter I disclaim the honour of

A VOW OF VENOEANCE.

175

your hand. So long as you offer no molestation to us,
and abstain from troubling us in any way, so long will
my mouth be soalotl; and 1 would fain bury in my
hrcast the memory of your offence. I will not give
the world's tongue occasion to wag by any open breach
lictwocn kinsfolk, and shall therefore in public salute
you as an acquaintance, but under no pretence what-
ever will 1 admit you to any future private interview.
Now leave me, sir, and 1 trust that your future life
will show that you deeply regret the outrage which in
your greed for my husband's lands you were tempted
to conmiit."

Without a word Sir James turned and left the room,
white with shame and anger, but with an inward sense
of congratulation at the romance which he had, on the
spur of the moment, invented, and which would, he
felt sure, be accepted by the world as probable, in the
event of the share he had in the matter being made
public, either upon the denunciation of Dame Vernon
or in any other manner.

One determination, however, he made, and swore, to
himself, that he would bitterly avenge himself upon the
youth whose interference had thwarted his plans, and
whose report to his kinswoman had turii'd her mind
against him. He, at any rate, should be put out of the
way at the first opportunity, and thus the only witness
as,'ainst himself be removed; for Lady Vernon's own
unsupported story would be merely her word against
his, and could be treated as the malicious tiction of an
angry woman.

The following day Dame Vernon sent for Walter,
and informed him exactly what had taken place.

" Between Sir James and me," she said, " there is,
you see, a truce. We are enemies, but we agree to lay

1 1ll 1

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176

A THREAT.

h' f!

;

1*1 i

i ■ I

aside our arms for the time. But, Walter, you must ^e
on your guard. You know as well as I do how dan-
gerous this man is, and how good a cause he has to
liate you. I would not have divulged your name had
I not known that the frequency of your visits hero
and the encouragement which I openly give you as
the future suitor of my daughter, would be sure to
come to his ears, and he would speedily discover that
it was you who saved our lives on the Thames and
gave your testimony before the justices as to the con-
versation in the hut on the marshes. Thus I fore-
stalled what he would in a few days have learnt."

" I fear him not, lady," Walter said calmly. " I can
hold mine own, I hope, against him in arms, and hav-
ing the patronage and friendship of Sir Walter Manny I
am above any petty malice. Nevertheless, I will hold
myself on my guard. I will, so far as possible, avoid
any snare which he may, as 'tis not unlikely, set for
my life, and will, so far as 1 honourably can, avoid any
quarrel with which he may seek to saddle me."

A few days later Walter again met Sir James Car-
negie in the king's anteroom, and saw at once, by tlie
tixed look of hate with which he had regarded him,
that he had already satisfied himself of his identity.
He returned the knight's stare with a cold look of
contempt. The knight moved towards him, and in u
low tone said, " Beware, young sir, I have a heavy
reckoning against you, and James Carnegie never
forgets debts of that kind!"

" I am warned. Sir James," Walter said calmly, but
in the same low tone, " and, believe me, I hold but very
lightly the threats of one who does not succeed even
when he conspires against the lives of women and
children."

. must 1'C
liovv dan-
ie has to
name had
■isits here
ye you as
)e sure to
cover that
lames aivl
to the con-
lus I tove-
earnt."
y. " I can
IS, and hav-
ler Manny I
, I will hoia
ssible, avoid
cely, set for

n, avoid any

II
nie.

James Car-
onee, by the
igarded him,
his identity,
jold look of
[im, and in n
i,ve a heavy
•negie never

calmly, hut

lold but very

[succeed even

■women and

THE COAT UF MAIL.

177

Sir Jauics started as if he had been struck. Then,
with a jjjroat cHbrt he recovered his composure, and,
repeating tljc vvorrl " Hevvaro ! " walked across to the
otlier side of the cliamber.

The next day Walter went down the river and had
a talk with his friend Geoffrey.

" You must beware, lad," the armourer said when he
told him of the return of 8ir James Carnegie and the
conversation wliicli had taken place between them.
"This man is capable of anything, and careth not
whei'e he chooseth his instruments. The man of the
hut at Lam})et)i has never l)een caught since his escape
from Richmond Jail — thanks, doubtless, to the gold of
his employer — and, for aught we know, may still be
lurking in the marshes there, or in the purlins of the
city. He will have a grudge against you as well as his
employer, and in him Sir James would find a ready
instrument. He is no doubt connected, as before,
with a gang of water pirates and robbers, and it is not
one sword alone that you would have to encounter. I
think not that you are in danger just at present, for
he would know that, in case of your murder, the sus-
picions of Dame Vernon and of any others who may
know the motive which lie has in getting rid of you
would be excited, and he might be accused in having
had a share in your death. Still, it would be so hard
to prove aught against him, that he may be ready to
run the risk in order to rid himself of you. Look
here, Walter. What think you of this ? " and the
smith drew out from a coti'er a shirt of mail of finer
work than Walter had ever before seen.

" Ay, lad, I knew you would be pleased," he said in
answer to Walter's exclamation at the fineness of the
workmanship. " I bought this a month ago from a Jew
(2m jH

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178

A cardinal's shikt.

merchant who had recently come from Italy Jlow
he got it I know not, but I doubt if it were honestly,
or he would have demanded a higher price than I paid
him. He told me that it was made by the lirst
armourer in Milan, and was constructed especially for
a cardinal of the church, who had made many enemies
by his evil deeds and could not sleep for fear of assas«
sination. At his death it came, the Jew said, into liis
possession. I suppose some rascally attendant took it
as a perquisite, and, knowing not of its value, sold it
for a few ducats to the Jew. However, it is of the
finest workmanship. It is, as you see, double, and each
link is made of steel so tough that no dagger- or
sword-point will pierce it. I put it on a block and
tried the metal myself, and broke one of my liest
daggers on it without a single link giving. Take
it, lad. You are welcome to it. I bought it with a
special eye to you, thinking that you might wear it
under your armour in battle without greatly adding to
the weight; but for such dangers as threaten you now
it is invaluable. It is so iiyht and soft that none will
dream that you have it under your doublet, and 1
warrant me it will hold you safe against the daggers
of Sir James's ruffians."

Walter did not like taking a gift so valuable, for his
apprenticeship as an armourer had taught him the ex-
treme rarity and costliness of so fine a piece of work.
Geoffrey, however, would not hear of his refusal, and
insisted on his then and there taking off his doublet
and putting it on. It fitted closely to the body, de-
scending just below the hips, and coming well up on
the neck, while the arms extended to the wrists.

There!" the smith said with deliirht. " Is ow you
are safe against sword or dagger, save for a sweeping

■MMHMa

A VALUABLE PRESENT.

179

blow at the head, and that your sword can be trusted
to guard. Never take it off, Walter, save when vou
sleep; and except when in your own bed, at Sir Walter
Miinny's, I should advise you to wear it even at ni<::jht.
The weight is nothing, and it will not incommode you.
So long as this caititi' knight lives, your life will not be
sale. When he is dead you may hang up the shirt t>t'
mail with a lijiht heart."

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CHAPTER XIL

JACOB VAN ARTEVELDE.

ING EDWARD found no difficulty in awak-
ening the war spirit of England anew, for
the King of France, by an act of infamous
treachery, in despite of the solemn terms of
the treaty, excited against himself the in-
dignation not only of England but of all Europe.
Oliver de Clisson, with fourteen other nobles of Brit-
tany and Normand}'', were arrested by his order, taken
to Paris, and without form of trial there decapitated.
This act of treachery and injustice aroused disgust and
shame among the French nobles, and murmurs and
discontent spread throughout the whole country.

In Brittany numbers of the nobles fell otf from
the cause of Charles of Blois, and King Edward
hastened his preparations to avenge the butchery of
the adherents of the house of Montford. Phillip, how-
ever, in defiance of the murmurs of his own subjects,
of the indignant remonstrances of Edward, and even
those of the pope, who was devoted to his cause, con-
tinued the course he had bejrun, and a number of other
nobles were seized and executed. Godfrey of Harcourt
alone, warned by the fate of his companions, refused
to obey the summons of the king to repair to Paris,

• in awak-

anew, for
infamous
n terms of
slf the in-
11 Europe.
63 of Brit-
rder, taken
ecapitated.
iisgust and
irmurs and
mtry.

otf from
\cr Edward
jutchery of
lillip, bow-
m subjects,
1, and even
cause, con-
ber of other
of Harcourt
ons. refused
ir to Paris,

FRANCE AND FLANDERS.

181

and fled to Brabant. His property in France was at
once seized by Phillip; and Godfrey, finding that the
Duke of Brabant would be unable to shield him from
Phillip's vengeance, fled to the English court, and did
homage to Edward.

On the 24th of April, 1345, Edward determined no
longer to allow Phillip to continue to benefit by his
constant violations of the truce, and accordingly sent a
defiance to the King of France.

De Montford, who had just succeeded in escaping
from his prison in Paris, arrived at this moment in
England, and shortly afterwards set sail with a small
army under the command of the Earl of Northampton
for Brittany, while the Earl cf Derby took his depar-
ture with a larger force for the defence of Guienne.

King Edward set about raising a large armj', which
he determined to lead himself, but before passing
over to France he desired to strengthen his hold of
Flanders. The constant intrigues of Phillip there had
exercised a great eft'ect. The count of that country
was already strongly in his interest, and it was only
the influence of Jacob van Artevelde which main-
tained the alliance with England. This man had, by
his talent and energy, gained an immense influence
over his countrymen ; but his commanding position and
ability had naturally excited the envy and hatred of
many of his fellow-citizens, among whom was the dean
of the weavers of Ghent, one Gerard Denis. The
weavers were the most powerful body in this city, and
had always been noted for their turbulence and fac-
tion; and on a Monday in the month of May, 134o, a
frreat battle took place in the market-place between
them and the fullers, of whom 1500 were slain. This
victory of the weavers strengthened the power of the

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182

TllE OFFER TO EDWAKD.

party liostile to Artevelde and the English connection;
and the former saw that unless he could induce his
countrymen to take some irretrievable step in favour
of England they would ultimately fall back into the
arms of France. Accordingly he invited Edward to
pass over with a strong force into Flanders, where ho
would persuade the Flemings to make the Prince of
Wales their duke. King Edward at once accepted tho
offer, and sailing from Sandwich on the 3d of July
arrived in safety at Sluys. His intention had boon
kept a profound secret, and his arrival created the
greatest surorise throughout Flanders. He did not
disembark, but received on board a ship with great
honour and magnificence the burijomastors of the vari-
ous towns who appeared to welcome him. The king
had brought with him the Prince of Wales, now fifteen
years old, who wore a suit of black armour and was
therefore called "the Black Prince."

Walter Somers was on board the royal vessel. The
Prince of Wales had not forgotten the promise which he
had six years before made to him, and had asked Sir
W^alter Manny to allow him to follow under his banner.

"You are taking my most trusty squire from me,
Prince," the knight said; "for although I have many
brave young fellows in my following, there is not one
whom 1 value so much as Walter Somers. It is but
fair, however, that you should have him, since you tokl
me when I first took him that he was to follow your
banner when you were old enough to go to the Avars.
You can rely upon him implicitly. He cares not for the
gaieties of which most young men of his age think so
much. He is ever ready for duty, and he possesses a
wisdom and sagacity which will some day make him a
great leader."

WALTKlt ATTACHED TO THE PUINCE'S SUIT. 183

Walter was sorry to leave his patron, but the steji
was of course a great advancement, and excited no
little envy among his companions, for among the young
esfjuircs of the Prince of Wales were the sons of many
of the noblest families of England.

Sir Walter presented him on leaving with a heavy
purse. "Your expenses will be large," he said, "among
so many young gallants, and you must do credit to me
as well as to yourself. The young prince is generous
to a fault, and as he holds you in high favour, both
from his knowledge of you and from my report, you
will, I know, lack nothing when you are once fairly
embarked in his service; but it is needful that when
you tirst join you should be provided with many suits
of courtly raiment, of cloth of gold and silk, which
were not needed while you were in the service of a
simple knight like myself, but which must be worn by
a companion of the heir of England."

Walter had hoped that Sir James Carnegie would
liave accompanied the forces of either of the Earls of
Northampton or Derby, but he found that he had
attached himself to the royal army.

Ralph of course followed Walter's fortunes, and was
r;ow brilliant in the appointments of the Prince of
Wales's chosen body-guard of men-at-arms.

The councils of all the great towns of Flanders as
sembled at Sluys, and for several days great festivitios
were held. Then a great assembly was held, and Van
Artcvelde rose and addressed his countrymen. He set
I'oi'th t*^ ohem the virtues of the Prince of Wales, whose
courtesy and bearing had so captivated them; he
pointed out the obligations which Flanders was under
towards King Edward, and the advantages which
would arise from a nearer connection with England.

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184

VAN AKTEVELDES FAILURE.

With this he contrasted the weakness of their count,
the many ills which his adherence to France had
brought upon the country, and tlie danger which
menaced tliem should his power be ever renewed. He
then boldly proposed to them that they should at
once cast oil' their allegiance to the count and bestow
the vacant coronet upon the Prince of Wales, who, as
Duke of Flanders, would undertake the defence an 1
government of the country with the aid of a Flemisli
couacil.

This wholly unexpected proposition took the Flemish
burghers by surprise. Artevelde had calculated upon
his eloquence and influence carrying them away, but his
power had diminished, and many of his hearers had al-
ready been gained to the cause of France. The burgher
councils had for a long time had absolute power in
their own towns, and the prospect of a powerful prince
at their head foredoomed a curtailment of those powers.
When Artevelde ceased, therefore, instead of the
enthusiastic shouts with which he hoped his oration
would be greeted, a confused murmur arose. At last
several got up and said that, greatly attached as they
were to the king, much as they admired the noble
young prince proposed for their acceptance, they felt
themselves unable to give an answer upon an aflair of
such moment without consulting their fellow-country-
men and learning their opinions. They therefore
jiromised that they would return on a certain day and
give a decided answer.

The Flemish burghers then took their leave. Van
Artevelde, after a consulation with the king, started at
once, to use his influence among the various towns.

After leaving the king he bade adieu to the Prince
of Wales. " Would y(ju like," the young prince said,

A HOSTILE CLIQUE.

185

" that one of my esquires should ride with you ? His
presence mii^ht show the people how entirely I am
with you; and should you have tidings to send me he
could ride hither with them. I have one with me who
is prudent and wise, and who possesses all the confi-
dence of that wise and valiant knight, Sir Walter do
iManny."

" I will gladly take him, your royal highness," Vai
Artovelde said, "and hope to despatch him to you very
slioitly with the news that the great towns of Flanders
all gladly receive you as their lord."

In a few minutes Walter had mounted his horse,
accompanied by Ralph, and, joining Van Artevelde,
rode to Bruges. Here and at Ypres Van Artevelde's
efforts were crowned with success. His eloquence
carried away the people with him, and both these cities
agreed to accept the Prince of Wales as their lord; but
the hardest task yet remained. Ghent was the largest
and most powerful of the Flemish towns, and here his
enemies were in the ascendant. Gerard Denis and
the weavers had been stirring up the people against
him. All kinds of accusations had been spread, and
he was accused of robbing and selling his country.
The news of the hostile feeling of the population
reached Van Artevelde, and he despatched Walter with
the request to the king for a force of five hundred
English soldiers as a guard against his enemies.

Had Artevelde asked for a larcje force, Edward
would have disembarked his army and marched at
their head into Ghent. As the rest of the country was
already won, there can be little doubt that this step
would at once have silenced all opposition, and would
have annexed Flanders to the British crown. Van
A.rtevelde, however, believed himself to be stronger

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1S6

WALTERS ADVICE.

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than he really was, and thought with a small party of
soldiers he could seize his principal opponents, and
that the people would then rally round hinj.

Upon the arrival of the five hundred men he started
for Ghent; but as he leared that the gates would be shut
if he presented himself with an armed force, he Ictt
the soldiers in concealment a short distance from tlie
town and entered it, accompanied only by his usiml
suite. At his invitation, however, Walter, followed of
course by Ralph, rode besidu him. No sooner was he
within the gates than Van Artevelde saw how strong,'
was the popular feeling against him. He had been
accustomed to be received with bows of reverence ;
now men turned aside as he approached, or scowled at
him from their doors.

" Methinks, sir," Walter said, " that it would bo
wiser did we ride back, and, joining the soldiers, enter
at their head, or as that number would be scarce sufli-
cient should so large a town rise in tumult, to send to
King Edward for a larjjer force and await their coming.
Even should they shut the gates we can reduce the
town, and as all the rest of Flanders is with you surely
a short delay will not matter."

"You know not these Flemings as well as I do," Van
Artevelde replied; "they are surly dogs, but thiv
always listen to my voice, and are ready enough to do
my bidding. When I once speak to them you will see
how they will smooth their backs and do as I oak
them."

Waiter said no more, but as he saw everywhere
lowering brows from window and doorway as they
rode through the streets he had doubts whether the
power of Van Artevelde's eloquence would have the
magical potency he had expected from ii

I m

A TIIKEATENIXO CONCOUKHE.

Ib7

When tlie party arrived at the splendid dwelling of
the great deumgoj^ue, messengers were instantly sent out
to all his friends and retainers. A hundred and forty
persons soon assembled, and while Van Artevelde was
debating with them as to the best steps to be taken,
Walter opened tlie casement and looked out into the
street. It was already crowded with the people,
whose silent and quiet demeanour seemed to bode no
good. Arms were freely displayed among them, and
Walter saw men passing to and fro evidently giving
instructiona

" I am sorry to disturb you. Master Artevelde," he
said, returning to the room where the council was being
liekl, " but methinks that it would be wise to bar the
doors and windows, and to put yourself in a posture
of defence, for a great crowd is gathering without, for
the most part armed, and as it seems to me with evil
intentions."

A glance from the windows confirmed Walter's
statements, and the doors and windows were speedily
barricaded. Before many minutes had elapsed the
tolling of bells in all parts of the town was heard, and
down the diti'erent streets leading towards the build-
ing large bodies of armed men were seen making their
way.

" I had rather have to do with a whole French army,
Master Walter," Ralph said, as he stood beside him at
an upper window looking down upon the crowd, " than
with these citizens of Ghent. Look at those men with
bloody axes and stained clothes. Doubtless those
are the skinners and butchers. Didst ever see such a
ferocious band of savages? Listen to their shouts.
Death to Van Artevelde! Down with the Enjjlisn
alliance! I thought our case was a bad one when th«

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188

PLANNING AN ESCAPE.

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Frencl'i poured over the walls into Vannes, but me-
thinks it is a hundred times worse now."

" We got out of that scrape, Ralph, and I hope ^ve
shall get out of this, but as you say the prospect is
black ♦. \ou.,h. See, the butchers are hannnering at
the door with their pole-axes. Let us go down and
aid in the defence."

" 1 am ready," Ralph said, "but I shull fight with a
lighter heart if you could fix upon some plan for us
to adopt when the rabble break in. That they will
do so I regard as certain, seeing that the house is not
built for purposes of defence, but has numerous broad
windows on the ground-floor by which assuredly they
will burst their way in."

" Wait a moment then, Ralph ; let us run up to the
top storey and see if there be any means of escape
along the roofs."

The house stood detached from the others, but on
one side was separated from that next to it only by a
narrow lane, and as the upper storeys projected beyond
those below, the windows were but six feet distant
Trom those on the opposite side of the way.

" See," Walter said, "there is a casement in the room
to our left there which is open ; let us see if it is ten-
anted."

Going into the next room they went to the window
and opened it. It exactly faced the casement opposite,
and so i'ar as they could see the room was unoccupied.

" It were easy to put a plank across," Ralph said.

"We must not do that," Walter answered. "The
mob are thick in the lane below — what a roar comes
up from their voices! — and a plank would be surely
seen, and we should be killed there as well as here.
No, we must get on to the sill and spring across; tne

^^i

A DESPKHATE I)i:rK\<'E.

189

distance is not great, and the jump would be nothing
were it not that the casements are so low. It must be
done as lightly and quickly as possible, and we may
not then be seen from below. Now leave the door
open that we may make no mistake as to the room,
and come along, for by the sound the fight is hot
below."

Running down the stairs Walter and Ralph joine<l
in the defence. Those in the house knew that they
would meet with no mercy from the infuriated crowd,
and each fought with the bravery of despair. Although
there were many windows to be defended, and at each
the mob attacked desperately, the assaults were a! I
repulsed. Many indeed of the defende-s were struck
down by the pikes and pole-axes, but for a time they
beat back the assailants whenever they attempted to
enter.

The noise was prodigious. The alarm-bells of the
town were all rinjjing and the shouts of the combat-
ants were drowned in the hoarse roar of the surginor
crowd without.

Seeing that however valiant was the defence the
assailants must in the end prevail, and feeling sure
that his enemies would have closed the city gates and
thus prevented the English without from coming to
his assistance, Van Artevelde ascended to an upper
storey and attempted to addrer^s the crowd. Hi,?
voice was drowned in the roar. In vain he gesticu-
lated and made motions imploring them to hear him,
but all was useless, and the courage of the dema-
gogue deserted him and he burst into tears at the
piospect of deatli. Then he determined to t)y and
make his escape to the sanctuary of a church close by,
and was descending the stairs when a mighty crash

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THR DEATH OF VAN ARTEVELDE.

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below, the clashing of steel, shouts, and cries, told that
the mob had swept away one of the barricades and
were pouring into the house.

" Make for the stair," Walter shouted, "and defend
yourselves there." But the majority of the defenders,
bewildered by the inrush of the enemy, terrified at
their ferocious aspect and terrible axes, had no thought
of continuing the resistance. A few, getting into cor-
ners, resisted desperately to the end; others threw
down their arms and dropping on their knees cried for
mercy, but all were ruthlessly slaughtered.

Keeping close together Walter and Ralph fought
their way to the foot of the stairs, and closely pursued
by a band of the skinners headed by Gerard Denis,
ran up.

Upon the first landing stood a man paralysed with
terror. On seeing him a cry of ferocious triumph rose
from the mob. As nothing could be done to aid him
Walter and his follower rushed by without stoppincr.
There was a pause in the pursuit, and glancing down
from the upper gallery W^altor saw Van Artevelde in
the hands of the mob, each struggling to take posses-
sion of him; then a man armed with a great axe pushed
his way among them, and swinging it over his head
struck Van Artevelde dead to the floor. His slayer
was Gerard Denis himself.

Followed by Ralph, Walter sprang through the open
door into the chamber they had marked, and closed
the door behind them. Then Walter, saying, "1 will
go first, Ralph, I can help you in should you miss your
spring," mounted on the sill of the casement.

Short as was the distance the leap was extremely
difficult, for neither casement was more than three feet
high. Walter was therefore obliged to stoop low and to

IN CONCEALMENT.

191

hurl himself head forwards across the gulf. He suc-
ceeded in the attempt, shooting clear through the case-
ment on to the Hoor beyond. Instantly he picked him-
self up and went to Rali)h's assistance. The latter,
taller and njore bulky, had greater difficulty in the
task, and only his shoulders arrived through the
window. Walter seized him, and aided him at once
to scramble in, and they closed the casement behind
them.

"It was well we took off our armour, Ralph; its
pattern would have been recognized in an instant."

Walter had thrown ofi' his helmet as he bounded up
the stairs, and both he and his companion had rid
themselves of their heavy armour.

" I would give a good deal," he said, " for two bour-
fjeois Jerkins, even were they uS foul as those of the
sl<iimers. This is a woman's apartment," he added,
looking round, "and nothing here will cover my six
feet of height, to say nothing of your four inches
'jxtra. Let us peep into some of the other rooms.
This is, doubtless, tlie house of some person of impor-
tance, and in the upper Hoor we may find some clothes
of servants or retainers."

They were not long in their search. The next room
was a large one, and contained a number of pallet beds,
and hanging from pegs on the walls were jerkins,
mantles, and other garments, evidently belonging to
the retainers of the house. Walter and Ralph were
not long in transmogrifying their appearance, and had
soon the air of two respectable serving-men in a
Flemish household.

"But how are we to descend?" Ralph asked. "We
can hardly hope to walk down the stairs and make otir
escape without being seen, especially as the doors will

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192

PREPAUINO A ROPE.

all be barred and bolted, seeing the tumult which is
raging outside."

" It all depends whether our means of escape are
suspected," Walter replied. " I should scarce think that
they would be. The attention of our pursuers was
wholly taken up by Van Artevelde, and some minutes
must have passed before they followed us. No doubt
they will search every place in the house, and all
within it will by this time have been slaughtered
But they will scarce organize any special search for us.
All will be fully occupied with the exciting evonty
which have taken place, and as the casement by which
we entered is closed it is scarcely likely to occur to
any one that we have escaped by that means. 1 will
listen first if the house is quiet. If so, we will descend
and take refuge in some room below, where there is <i
better chance of concealment than here. Put the pieces
of armour into that closet so that tney may not catch
the eye of any who may happen to come hither. The
day is already closing. In half an hour it will be
nightfall. Then we will try and make our way out."

Listening at the top of the stairs they could hear
voices below ; but as the gallery was quiet and deserted
they made their way a floor lower, and seeing an open
door entered it. Walter looked from the window.

" There is a back -yard below," he said, " with a door
opening upon a narrow lane. " We are now upon the
second storey, and but some twenty-five feet above the
ground. We will not risk going down through the
house, which could scarce be accoTuplished without
detection, but will at once tear up into strips the cover-
ings of the bed, and will make a rope by which we may
slip down into the court-yard as soon as it is dark.
We must hope that none will come up before that

IN THE STUEKIS OK GHENT.

193

escape are
5 think that
irsuers was
me minutes
No doubt
ise, and all
slaughtered,
aarch for us.
iting evoiita
mt by wliich
to occur to
cans. 1 will
will descend
ere there is a
^ut the pieces
nay not catcli
hither. The
,r it will be
.r way out."
sy could hear
and deserted
eing an open
window.
" with a door
low upon the
[eet above the
throiigh the
ihed without
|ips the cover-
hich we may
it is dark,
before that

time; but, indeed, all will be so full of the news of the
events which have happened that it is scarce likely
that any will come above at present."

The iinen sneets and coverings were aoon cut ud and
knotted together in a rope. By the time that this was
finished the darkness was closing in, and after waiting
patiently for a few minutes they lowered the rope and
.>lid down into the yard. Quietly they undid the bolts
of the gate and issued into the lane. The mantles were
provided with hoods, as few of the lower class of
Flemings wore any other head-covering.

Drawing these hoods well over their heads so as to
shade their faces the two sallied out from the lane.
They wore soon in one of tlie principal streets, which
was crowded with people. Bands of weavers, butchers,
skinners, and others were parading the streets shouting
and singing in honour of their victory and of the
down fall and death of him whom they had but a few
days before regarded as the niairstriy of Flanders.
Many of the lietter class of burghers stood in groups in
the streets and talked in low and rather frightened
voices of the consequences which the deed ol* blood
would bring upon the city. On the one Hand Edward
might march upon it with his army to avenge the
murder of his ally. Upon the other hand they were
now committed to France. Their former ruler would
return, and all the imposts and burdens against which
they had rebelled-would again be laid upon the city.

"What shall we do now?" Ralph asked, "for as-
suredly there will be no issue by the gates."

" We must possess ourselves of a length of rope, if
possible, and make our escape over the wall. How to
■J,d one I know not, for the shops are all clostid, ami
<;ven were it not so I could not ventnrc in to pur-

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RALl'llS SUCCESS.

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chase any, for niy speech would betray us at once.
Let us separate, and each see whether he can find what
we want. We will meet ajrain at the entrance to this
church in an hour's time. One or other of us may liiul
what we seek "

Walter searched in vain. Wherever he saw the door
of a yard open he peered in, but in no case could he sue
any signs of rope. At the end of the hour he returned
to their rendezvous. Ralph was already tiiere.

" 1 have found nothing, llalph. Have you had better
fortune?"

"That have I, Master Walter, and was back nigh an
hour since. Scarce had I It ft you when in a back
street I came upon a quiet hostelry, and in the court-
yard were standing half a dozen teams of cattle,
Doubtless their owners had brought hay or corn into
the city, and when the tumult arose and the gates
were closed found themselves unable to escape. The
masters were all drinking within, so witiiout more ado
1 cut ofi' the ropes wliich served as traces for the oxen,
and have them wound round my body under my
mantle. There must be twenty yards at letust, and us
eacli rope is strong enough to hold double our weiglit
there will be no difliculty in lowering ourselves from
the walls."

"You have done well indeed, Ralph," Walter said.
"Let us make our way thither at once. Every one is so
excited in the city, that, as yet. there will be but tew
guards upon the wall. The sooner, therefore, tiuit we
attempt w make our escape the belter,''

CHAPTER XIII.

THE WUITE FOllD.

REY made their way without interruption to
tlie wail. This they found, as they ex-
pected, entirely deserted, although, no doubt,
guards had been posted at the gates. The
Flemings, however, could have I'elt no tear
of an attack by so small a force as the five hundred
English whom they knew to be in the neighbourhood.
Walter and his companion soon knotted the ropes to-
jjetlier and lowered themselves into the moat. A few
strokes took them to the other side, and scrambling out,
they made their way across the country to the spot
where the English had been posted. They found the
Earl of Salisbury, who commanded, in a great state of
uneasiness. No message had reached him during the
ilay. He had heard the alarm-bells of the city ring,
and a scout who had gone forward returned with the
news that the jjates were closed and the drawbridges
raised, and that u strong body of men manned the
walls.

"Your news is indeed bad," he said, when Walter
related to him the events which had taken place in
tile town. *■ This will altogether deranc:e the king's
plans. Now that his ally is killed I fear that his hopes

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THE iu:tui:n uf thk exi-kuition.

of acquiring Flanders for England will fall to the
ground. It is a thousand pities that he listened to
Van Artcvelde and allowed hiui to enter Ghent alone.
IJad his majesty landed, as he wished, and made a pro-
gress through the country, the prince receiving the
homage of all the large towns, we could then very well
liave hunnnoned Ghent as standing alone against all
Flanders. The citizens then would, no doubt, have
gladly opened their gates and i-^ceived the prince, and
if they had refused *ve would have made short work
of them. However, as it has turned out, it is as well
that we did not enter the town with the Fleming, tor
against so large and turbulent a population we sliouLl
have had but little chance. And now, Master Somers,
we will march at once for Sluys and bear the news to
the king, and you shall tell me as we ride thither how
you and your man-at-arms managed to escape with
whole skins from such a tunuilt."

The kins' was much grieved when he hoard of the
death of Artevelde, and held a council with his clmt
leaders. At tirst, in his indignation and grief, he WcV
disposed to march upon Ghent and to take vengcanec
for the murder of his ally, but after a time cuhmr
counsels prevailed.

The Fleminijs were still in rebellion acrainst tlieir
count, who was the friend of France. Were the
English to attack Ghent they would lose the general
good-will of the Flemings, and would drive them into
the arms of France, while, if matters were left alone,
the effect of the popular outburst which had caused
the death of Artevelde would die away, and motives of
interest and the fear of France would aoain drive them
into the arms of England. The expedition therefore
returned to England, and there the king, in a proclama-

SUI'.MISSION OF TIIK FI.K.MINUS.

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tion to liis people, avoided all allusion to the death of
his ally, but simply stated that he had been waited
upon by the councils of all the Flemish towns, and
that their faithiul obedience to himself, as legitimate
King of France, was established upon a tinner basis
than ever.

This course had the effect which he had anticipated
from it. The people of Flanders perceived the danger
and disadvantage which must accrue to their trade
troin any permanent disagreement with England.
They were convinced by the events which soon after-
wards happened in France that the King of England
had more power than Phillip of Valois, and could, if ho
chose, punish severely any breach of faith towanls
liim. 1 hey tlierefore sent over commissioners to express
their grief and submission. Tlie death of Artevelde
was represented as the act of a fiantic mob, and severe
tines were imposed upon the leaders of the party who
slew him, and although the principal towns expressed
their desire still to remain under the rule of the Count
of Flanders, they suggested that the ties which bound
tliein to England should be strengthened by the mar-
riage of Louis, eldest son of the count, to one of
Edward's daughters. Moi-e than this, they offered to
create a diversion for the Enijlish forces actinu: i»
(jiiionne and Gascony by raising a strong force and
expelling the French garrisons still remaining in some
parts of the country. This was done. Hugo of Has-
tings was appointed by the king captain-general in
Flanders, and with a force of Enolish and Flemini's
did good service by expelling the French from Ter-
.iiond and several other towns.

Tlie character of Jacob van Artevelde has had but
scant justice done to it by most of the historians of the

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Tllfc; AKMY W K.NCl.ASr).

time. These, living in an age of chivalry, wlicn noMti
blood and lofty deeds were held in extraordinary n-
spect, had little sympathy with the brewer of Ghent,
and deemed it contraiy to the fitness of things tlial
tlie chivalry of France should liavc been delied mid
worsted by mere mechanics and artisans. But then-
can be no doubt that Artevelde was a very great iiiaii.
He may have been personally anibitious, but he was n
true patriot. He had great military talents. He com-
pletely remodelled and wonderfully improved the in-
ternal administration of the country, and raised ils
commerce, manufactures, and agriculture to a pitch
which they had never before reached. After his deiitii
liis memory was esteemed and revered by the Fluin-
ings, who long submitted to the laws he had msidt;, nnd
preserved his regulations with scrujiuious exactitude.

Edward now hastened to get together a great army.
Every means were adopted to rai.se money and to gather
stores, and every man between sixteen and sixty south
of the Trent was called upon to take up arms anl
commanded to assemble at Portsmouth in the middh'
of Lent. A tremendous tempe.st, hovvevei, scattered
the tleet collected to carry the expedition, a groat
many of the ships were lost, and it was not until the
middle of July, 134G, that it sailed from England, it
consisted of about 500 ships and 10,000 sailors, and
carried 4000 men-at-arms, 10,000 archers, 1 2,000 Wel.sli,
and GOOO Irisli.

This seems but a small army considering the effoits
which had been made; but it was necessary to leuvu
a considerable force behind for the defence of the
Scottish frontier, and England had already armies
in Guienne and Brittany. Lionel, Edward's second
801), was appointed regent during his father's al)seiue.

THE IJKSTINATION OF THE FLEET.

I'jy

On board Ed\vaj<l's own ship were Codfrey of Har-
court and the Piir co of Wales. Walter, as one of the
personal sf|uires of the prince, was also on l)oard.

The prince had been f.a-eatly interested in the details
of Walter's escape from Vfin Artevelde's house, the
king himself expressed his approval of his conduct,
and Walter was generully regarded as one of the most
promising young aspirants at the court. His modesty
and good temper rendered him a general favourite",
and many even of the higher nobles noticed hiui by
their friendly attentions, for it was felt that he stood
so high in the good-will of the prince that he might
some day become a person of groat influence with him,
and one whose good-will would be valuable.

It was generally supposed, when the fleet started, that
(luicnne was their destination, but they had not gone
far when a signal was made to change the direction in
which they were sailing and to make for La Hogue in
^'ormandy. Godfrey of Harcourt had great influence
in that province, and his persuasions had much effect in
(letcrminimj the kincj to direct his course thither. There
was the further a< I vantage that the King of France,
who was well aware of the coming invasion, wouM
have made his preparations to receive him in Guiennc.
Furthermore, JNormandy was the richest and most
prosperous province in France, It liad for a long
time been untouched by war, and offered great abun-
dance of spoil. It had made itself particularly ol)-
iioxious to the Englisli by having recently made an
otter to the King of France to fit out an expedition
and conquer England with its own resources.

The voyage was sfiort and favourable, and the expe-
dition landed at La llogiie, on the small peninsula of
Cotentin, without opposition. Six days were spent at

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CONFKIMIINO KNIGHTHOOD.

La ITorrue disninbarking the men, horses, and storos,
an<l bakinj^ hrend for the use of the army on tlio
march. A (letiichiiieiit advanced n»\d pillai^od ami
1 til nit Barllcur and Cherbourg and u number of sinuil
towns and castles.

In accordance with custom, at tlio comnuMicoment nf
the campaign a court was heltl, at which the Prince of
Wales was diibbfti a knight by his father. A siiiiiiiir
lionour was bestowed upon a number of other youn^;
aspirants, among whom was Walter Somers, who liad
been highly recommended for tliat honour to the king
by Sir Walter Manny.

The force was now formed into three divisions — tlio
one commanded by the king liimself, the sf^cnnd by ilic
Earl of Warwick, and the third by ( Jodfrey of liar-
court. The Karl of Arundel acted as Lord High (on
stable, and the Earl of Huntingdon, who wa.s in com-
mand of the ileet, followed the army along tlie sen-
coast. Valognes, Carcntan, and St. Lo were captmcd
without ditHculty, and the English army advanced liy
rapid marches upon Caen, plundering the country for
six or seven leagues on each side of the line of march.
An immense fjuantity of booty was obtained.

As soon as the news of Edward's lan(!in!]r in Nor-
mandy reached Paris, Phillip despatched the Count
d'Eu, ConstaljJe of France, with the Count of Tanker-
ville and GOO men-at-arms, to oppose Edward at Caon.
The Bishop of Bayeux had thrown himself into that
city, which was already garrisoned by 800 Genoese.
The town was not defi'nsible, and the only chance of
i-esistance was by opposing the passage of the river
Horn, which flowed l>etween the suburbs and the
city. The bridge was barricaded, strong wooden toweis
were erected, and sucli was the coniidence of the in-

TIIM CAriL'KK OF CAFV.

201

lialiitmits and their leaders that Edward's promise of
protection for the person and pioperty of the citizen."^
was rejected with scorn, and the whole male popuhi-
tinn joined the {garrison in the tiefcnce of the briil^H'.
Jhuchinu thiou^h the deserted suburbs the English
army attacked the bridj^e with such vehemence that
althoui^di the enemy defended the barricades gallantly
they were speedily forced, and the English poured into
tin; town. l!efore the iirst f»ny of the attack was
over near .'OJO persons were slain. The Count of
Tankerville, 140 knights, and as many squires were
made prisoners. The plunder was so enormous as to
lio sudiciont to cover the whole expenses of the expedi-
tion, and this with the booty which had been previously
ac()uiied was placed on board ship and <lespatched
to I'Jiglund, while the king marched forward with his
army. At Lisieux he wjus met by two cardinals sent
liy the pope to negotiate a truce; but Edward had
leained the fallacy of truces made with King Phillip,
and declined to enter into negotiations. Finding that
Kouen had been placed in a state of defence and could
not be taken without a long siege he left it behind
liim and marched along the valley of the Eure, gather-
ing rich booty at every step.

But while he was marching forward a great army
^Yas gathei-ing in his rear. The Count of Harcourt,
lirother of Godfi-ey, called all Normandy to arms.
Every feudal lord and vassal answered to the summons,
and before Edward reached the banks of the Seine a for-
niidable army had assendjled.

The wdiole of the vassals of France were gathering by
the orders of the king at St. Denis. The English fleet
liad now left the coast, and Edward had only the choice
of retreating through Normandy into Brittany or of

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202

AT Tllli GATES OF I'AUIS.

attempting to force the passage of the Seine, and t)
tight his way through Franco to Flanders. He chose
the latter alternative, and marched along the left ')ank
of the river towanis Paris, seeking in vain to find a
passage. The cnoniy followed him step by step on the
opposite bank, and all the bridges were broken dovvn
and the fords destroyed.

Edward marched on burning the towns and ravacrinfr
the country until he reached Poissy. The bridge was
as usual destroyed, but the piles on which it stootl
were still standing, and he determined to endeavour to
cross here. He accordingly halted for five days, but
despatched troops in all directions, who burnt anW
ravaged to the very gates of Paris, The villages of ht.
(Jerniain, St. Cloud, IJourg la Reine, and nmny othci^
within sight of the walls were destroyed, and the capi-
tal itself thrown into a state of terror and conster-
nation. Godfrey of llarcourt was the first to cross
the river, and with the advance-guard of English fell
upon a large body of the burghers of Amiens, and af tei'
a severe Hght defeated them, killing over five hundred.
1'he king himself with his whole force passed on tliu
]6th of August.

Phillip, with his aniiy, quitted St. l^enis, when lie
heard that the English army had jiassed the Seiiu'
and by parallel maiches endeavoured to interpose be-
tween it and the borders of Flamiei's. As his force
was every hour increasing he despatched messengers
to Edward offenng him battle within a few days
on condition that he would cf;ase to i-avaixe the coun-
try; but Edward declined the proposal, saying that
I'hillip himself by breaking down the bridges had
avoided a battle as long as he could, but that wiienever
he was ready to give battle he would accept the chal-

THKACHEROUS liUIKillKRS.

2U3

lenije. During the whole march the armies were
within a tew leagues of each other, and constant skir-
mishes took place between bodies detached from the
hosts.

In some of these skirmishes "Walter took part, as he
and the other newly made knights were burning to
distinguish themselves. Every day the progress of the
army became more difficult, as the country people every-
where rose against them, and several times attempted to
make a stand but were defeated with great loss. The
principal towns were found deserted, and even Poix,
which offered great capabilities of defence, had been
left unguarded. Upon the English entering, tlie
burghers offered to pay a large ransom to save the
town from plunder. Ihe money was to be delivered
as soon as the English force had withdrawn, and
Walter Somers was ordered by the king to remain
behind with a few men-at-arms to receive the ransom.

No sooner had the army departed than the burghers,
knowing that the French army was close behind,
changed their minds, refused to pay the ransom, and
fell upon the little body of men-at-aims. Although
taken quite by surprise by this act of treacheiy
Walter instantly rallied his men, although several had
been Icilled at the first onslaught. He, with Ralph
and two or three of the staunchest men, covered the
retreat of the rest through the streets, making desperate
charges upon the body of armed bui'ghers pressing
upon them. Ralph fought as usual with a mace of
prodigious weight, and the terror of his blows in no
slight degree enabled the party to reach the gate in
safety, but V/alter had no idea of retreating further.
He despatched one of his followers to gallop at full
speed to overtake the rear-guard of the army, which

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A CKITICAL POSITION.

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was still but two miles distant, while, with the rest lie
formed a line across the gate and resisted all the
attempts of the citizens to expel them.

The approach to the gate was narrow, and the over-
Avhelminrj number of the burghers were therefore of
little avail. Walter had dismounted his force and all
fought on foot, and although sorely pressed they held
their ground until Lords Cobham and Holland, with
their followers, rode up. Then the tide of war was
turned, the town was plundered and burnt, and gieafc
numbers of the inhabitants slain. Walter gained great
credit for holding the gate, for had he been driven out,
the town could have resisted, until the arrival of Louis,
all assaults of the English.

The river Somme now barred the passage of Edwarrl.
Most of the bridges had been destroyed, and those
remaining were so strongly fortified that they could
not be forced.

The position of the English was now very critical.
On one Hank and in front were impassable rivers. The
whole country was in arms against them, and on their
rear and flank pressed a hostile army fourfold their
strength. The country was swampy and thinly popu-
lated, and flour and provisions were only obtained with
great difficulty. Edward, on finding from the reports
of his marshals who had been sent to examine the
bridges, that no passage across the river could be found,
turned and marched down the river towards the sea,
halting for the night at Oisemont.

Here, a great number of peasantry attempted a
defence, but were easily defeated and a number of
prisoners taken. Late in the evening the Earl of
Warwick, who had pushed forward as far as Abbe-
ville and St. Valcry, returned with the news that tne

LA BLANCHE TACIIR.

205

passages at those places were as strongly guarded as
elsewhere, but that he had learnt from a peasant that
u ford existed somewhere below Abbeville, although
tlie man was himself ignorant of its position.

Edward at once called the prisoners belonging to
that part of the country before him, and promised to
any one who would tell him where the ford lay his
freedom and that of twenty of his companions. A
pcjisant called Gobin Agase stepped forward and ottered
to show the ford, where at low tide twelve men could
cross abreast. It was, he said, called "La Blanche
Tache."

Edward left Oisemont at midniorht and reached the
ford at daylight. The river, however, was full and the
army had to wait impatiently for low tide. When
they arrived there no enemy was to be seen on the
opposite bank, but before the water fell sufficiently for
a passage to be attempted, Sir Godemar du Fay with
12,000 men, sent by King Phillip, who was aware of
the existence of the ford, arrived on the opposite side.

The enterprise was a difficult one indeed, for the
water, even at low tide, is deep. Godemar du Fay,
however, threw away part of his advantage by ad-
vancing: into the stream. The Encjlish archers lined
the banks, and poured showers of arrows into the
ranks of the enemy, while the Genoese bowmen on
their side were able to give comparatively little assis-
tance to th3 French.

Ivinj; Edward shouted to his knicrhts, "Let those who
love me follow me," and spurred his horse into the
water. Behind him followed his most valiant knights,
and Walter riding close to the Prince of Wales was
one of the foremost.

The French resisted valiantly and a desperate battle

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took place on the narrow ford, but the impetuosity
of the English prevailed, and stop by step tliey drove
the French back to the other side of the river. The
whole anny poured after their leaders, and the French
were soon entirely routed ami (led, leaving two thousand
men-at-arms dead on the licld.

King Edward, having now freed himself from tho
difficulties which had encompassed him on the otlar
side of the river, prepared to choose a giound to give
battle to the whole French army.

Louis had advanced slowly, feeling confident that the
English would be unable to cross the river, and that
he should catcli them hemmed in by it. His mortiticu-
tion and surpiise on finding, when he approached La
Blanche Tache, that twelve thousand men had betii
insufficient to hold a ford by which but twelve couM
cross abreast, and that his enemy had escaped from his
grasp, were great. The tide liad now risen again, and
he was obliged to march on to Abbeville and cross the
river there.

King Edward now advanced into the Forest of
CVessy.

Hugh de le Spencer, with a considerable force, was
despatched to Crotoy, which he carried by assault after
a severe contlict, in which four thousand of the French
men-at-arms were slain. The cajiture of tins city
removed all danger of want from the army, for large
stores of wine and meal were found there, and Sir
Hugh at once sent off a supply to the tired army in
the field.

The possession of Crotoy and the mouth of the
Somme would have now rendered it easy for the Eng-
lish monarch to have transported his troops to England,
and to have returned triumphant after the accomplish-

a Forest ol'

THE FIELD OF CUESSY.

207

inent of his extraordinary and most successful march
through Franca The army, however, was elated by
the many great successes it had won, he was now in
Ponthieu, which was one of his own liet's, and he
determined to make a stand in spite of the immense
superiority of the enemy.

Next morning, then — Friday the S.'th of August,
1 .'^IG — he despatclied the Earl of Warwick with Godfrey
of Harcourt and Lord Cobham, to examine the ground
and choose a site for a battle.

The plan of the fight was drawn out by the king
and his councillors, and the king yielded to the Black
Prince the chief place of danger and honour, placing
with him the Earl of Warwick, Sir John Chandos, and
many of his best knights.

The ground which had been chosen for the battle
was an irregular slope between the forest of Cressy
and the river Maie near the little village of Canchy.
The slope looked towards the south and east, from
which quarters the enemy was expected to ai-rive,
and some slight defences were added to the natural
advantages of the ground.

On the night of the 25th all the principal leaders of
the British host were enteitained by King Edward.
Next morning, Mass was celebrated, and the king, the
prince, and many knights and nobles received the
Sacrament, after which the trumpets sounded, and the
aruiy marched to take up its position. Its numbers are
variously estimated, but the best account puts it at
about 30,000 men, which, considering that 32,000 had
crossed the Channel to La Hogue, is probably about the
force which would have been present allowing that
-000 had fallen in the various actions or had died from
tlisease.

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The division of the Black Prince consisted of 800
men-at-arais, 4000 archers, and COOO Welsh foot. The
archers, as usual, were placed in front, supported by
the light troops of Wales and the men-at-arms; on liis
left was the second division, commanded by the Earls
of Arundel and Northampton; its extreme left rested
on Canchy and the river, and it was further protected
by a deep ditch; this corps was about 7000 stron<r.

The king himself took up his position on a knoll of
rising ground surmounted by a windmill, and 12,000
men under his personal command were placed here in
reserve.

In the rear of the Prince's division an inclosure of
stakes was formed; in this, guarded by a small boily
of archers, were ranged the waggons and baggage of
the army, together with all the horses, the king havin^f
determined tliat the knights and men-at-arms on his
side should fight on foot.

When the army had taken up its position, the kinc^,
mounted on a small palfrey, with a white staff in his
hand, rode from rank to rank exhorting his soldiers to
do their duty gallantly. It was nearly noon befoic
he had passed through all the lines, and permission
was then given to the soldiers to fall out from their
ranks and to take refreshments while waitinix for the
coming of the enemy. This was accordingly done, the
men eating and drinking at their ease and lying down
in their ranks on the soft grass with their steel caps
and their bows or pikes beside them.

In the meantime the French had, on their side, been
preparing for the battle. Phillip had crossed the
Somme at Abbeville late on Thursday afternoon, and
remained there next day marshalling the large re-
inforcements which were hourly arriving. His force

THE FKENCII AMMV.

.'OO

now considerably exceodod 100,000 nieii, the miiiilKr
with which he had marched from Amiens three days
previously.

Friday was the Festival of St. Louis, and that
evening Phillip gave a splendid baniiuct to the whole
of tlie nobles of his ai my.

Un the following morning tlio king, accompanied
l)y his brother the Count D'Aleu'^on, the old King
of Jjohemia and his son, tlie King of Rome, the Duke
of Lorraine, the Count of Blois, the Count of Flanders,
and a great number of other feudal princes, heard
Mass at the Abbey, and then marched with his great
aiiiiy towards Ci'essy. He moved l)ut slowly in order
to give time to all the forces scattered over the neigh-
liuuihood to come up, and four kiughfcs, headed by one
of the King of Bohemia's officers, went forward to
reconnoitre the English position. They approached
within very sliort distajice of the English lines and
gained a very exact knowledge, of the position, the
English taking no measures to interrupt the recon-
naissance. They returned with the information they
had gathered, and the leadei- of the party, Le Moyne
de Basele, one of the most judicious oflicers of his time,
strongly advised the king to halt his troops, pointing
out that as it was evident the English were ready
to give battle, and as they were fresh and vigorous,
while the French were wearied and hungry, it would
be better to encamp and give battle the next morning.

Phillip saw the wisdom of the advice and ordered
liis two marshals the Lord of St. Venant and Charles
de Montmorency to connnand a Jialt. They instantly
spurred off, one to the front and the other to the rear,
commanding the leaders to halt their banners. Those
iu advance at once obeyed, but those behind still

( 'M ) o

^i!'''hl

210

CONFUSION IN THE FRENCH ItANKS.

pressed on, declaring that they would not halt until
they were in the front line. All wanted to he first, in
order to olitain their sliare of the honour and glory
of defeating the English. Those ni front, seeing tliu
others still coining on, a<pun pressed forward, and
thus, in spite of the ett'or^s of the king and his mar-
shals, the French nohles with their followers pnisscl
forward in confusion, until, passing through a snuill
wood, they found themselves suddenly in the presence
of the English army.

3<>-

CHAPTER XIV

CUKSSY.

p^,_^^j HE sui"pri.se of tlio French army at finding
^iM \^> thuiiisL'lves in the presence of the Englisli
was so great tliat the first Hne recoiled in
confusion. Tliose marching up from behind
imagined that they had been already en-
gaged and rejMilsed by the English, and the disorder
spread through the whole army, and was increased by
the coinn)on people, who had crowded to the field in
iiniiiense numbers from the whole jountry round to see
the battle and share in the plunder of the English
camp.

From King Edward's position on the rising ground
he could see the confusion which prevailed in the
French ranks, and small as were his forces he would
))iol)ably have obtained an easy victory by ordering a
sudden charge upon them. The English, however,
hoing dismounted, but small results would have fol-
lowed the scattering of the great host of the French.
The English army therefore remained immovable, ex-
cept that the soldiers rose from the ground, and taking
their places in the ranks, awaited the onslaught of
the enemy.

King Fhilllp himself now arrived on the field, and

! I

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212

THE FRENCH ADVANCE.

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I i'' U

W\ ' ^^1

li; 'I

pi; II

liis liutreii for tlie Enj^lish led him at onco to clisreLrnn!
tlio advice which had been given hiiii und to order the
battle to couniience as soon as possible.

The army was divided into lour bodies, of which
Phillip commanded one, the Count J)'Alen<;on tluj
second, the Kin<^ of Bohemia the third, and the Count
of Savoy the fourth. Besides these were a band of
1 0,000 mercenaries, Genoese crossbow-men, who were
now ordered to puss between the ranks of cavalry and
to clear the ground of the English archoi's, who wen;
drawn up in the usual form in which they fought —
namely, in very open order, line behind line, the men
standing alternately, so that each had ample room t(»
use his bow and to tire over the heads of those in
front. The formation was something that of a harrow,
and, indeed, exactly resembled that in which the
Roman archers fought, and was called by them a
quincunx.

The Genoese had marched four leagues beneath .a
hot sun loaded with their armour and heavy cross-
bows, and they remonstrated against the oiuer, urging
that they were in no condition to do good service
without some repose. The Count D'Alen(;on, furious at
their hesitation, ordered them up, but as they advanced
a terrible thunderstorm, with torrents of rain, brokt;
over the armies, and wetting the cords of the cross-
bows rendered many of them unserviceable. At length
the crossbow-nien were arranged in front, while behind
them were the vast body of French cavalry, and the
order was given for the battle to begin.

The Genoese advanced with loud shouts, but the
English archers paid no attention to the noise, but
waited calmly for the attack. At this moment the
sun, now approaching the west, shone out brightly

TIIK OKNOKSK CROSS liOWSlKX.

213

liittwocn the clontls behind the Encflish, its rays stream-
iri'j; full in the faces of the French. The (Jcnoese
were now within distanci', and liogan to dischariije their
(piarrclls at tiunr impassive eneniies, but as they
opened lire the Enollslj archers drew their bows from
the cases which had protected them from the rain, and
stepping forward j)oured their arrows among the
CJonoese. The crosshow-men were smitten as with a
storm, numbers were struck in tiie face and otlier un-
protected parts, and they were instantly thrown into
confusion, and casting away their cross-bows they re-
coiled in disorder amoni; the liorsemen behind them.

Phillip, passionate and cruel as ever, instead of
trying to rally the Genoese, ordered the cavalry behind
them to iall upon them, and the men-at-arms at once
plunjjed in amonij the disordered mass of the cross-
bow-men, and a wild scene of carnage and confu-
sion ensued, the English archers continuing to pour
tlieir unerrinof ari'ows into the midst. The Coimt
l)'Alen(;on, who was behind, separated his division into
two bodies, and swept round on one side himself, while
the Count of Flanders did the same on the other to
attack the Prince of Wales in more regular array.
Taking a circuitous route, D'Alen{;on appeared upon a
risini; sfround on the flank of tne ai'chcrs of the Black
Prince, and thus, avoiding their arrows, charged down
with his cavalry upon the 800 men-at-arms gathered
round the Black Prince, while the Count of Flanders
attacked on the otlier iiank.

Nobly did the tiower of English chivalry withstand
the shock of the Fr nch, and the prince himself and
the highest nobles and simple men-at-arms fought side
liy side. None gave way a foot.

In vain the French, with impetuous charges, strove

! !,i

214

A DESPKriATE STIUJGOLIi:.

to break through tlie mass of steel. The sponr-hends
were clot't ott' witli swonl and hattle-axe, uml afj;aiii
and again men ami horses recoiled IVoin the unbroktii
lino. Each time the French retired the English ranks
were formed anew, and as attack followed attack a pile
of dead rose around them. The Count J)'Alen(;on and
the Duke of Lorraine were among the lirst who i'ell.
The young Count of Blois, finding that lie could not
ride through the wall of steel, dismounted with his
knights and fought his way on ibot towards tin'
banner of the Prince of Wales. For a time the struggle
Wiis despi'rate, and the young prince, with his house-
hold knights, was for a time well-nigh beaten back.

Walter, lighting close beside the prince, pan-ied niori!
than one blow intended for hiin, and the prince him-
self slew tlie Count of Blois, whose followers all fell
around him. The Count of Flanders was also slain, ami
confusion began to reign among the assailants, whose
leaders had now all fallen. Phillip himself strove to
advance with his division into tlie fight, but the
struggle between the Genoese and the men-at-arms
was still continuing, and the very multitude of his
troops in the narrow and dillicult field which the Eng-
lish hail chosen for the battle embarra.ssed his move-
ments.

Charles of Luxembourg, King of the Romans, an!
afterwards Emperor of Germany, son of the old king of
Bohemia, with a large body of German and French
cavalry, now assailed the English archers, and in .spite
of their flights of arrows came to close quarters, and
cutting their way through them joined in the assault
upon the men-at-arms of the Black Prince. Neaily
40,000 men were now pres.sing round the little body,
and the Earls of Morthampton and Arundel moved

KINO KDWAKD's MKSSAOE.

215

forward witli their divisions to his support, whilo the
M.irl of Warwick, who was with tho piitico, dospatchiMl
Sir Thonifis of Norwich to tho kitiL,', who still reinainud
with his powortul roscrvo, to Jisk for aid.

"Sir Thomas," (hMiiaixhid tho kint,', "is my son
killed, overtlirown, or woiiii(h^d lioyond liclpi'"

" Not 80, siro." replied tho kiii;;ht. " but ho is in a
Mido light, and mucli n(M'ds your aid."

" Go baclv, Sir Thomas, to thoso who sent you, and
tell them irom mo that whatsoever happens they
rcMpiiro no aid trom mo so lonf; as my son is in lile.
Tell them also that 1 command them to let the boy
will his spuis, tor, (Jod willinj^, tho day shall be his,
iiiid tho honour shall rest with him and those into
whose ehari:je I have given him "

Tho prince and thoso around him were filled with
fresh ardour when they received this message. Each
man redoubled his ollbrts to repol the forces that were
incessantly poured down upon them by the French.
On all sides these pressed around them, striving desper-
ately, but ever in vain, to break through the solid ranks
of tho English. The French men-at-arms suffered,
moreover, terribly from the attacks of the V.'elsh infan-
try. These men, clad in thick leather jerkins, nimble of
i)ot, accustomed to a life of activity, were armed with
.shortened lances and knives, and mingled ft;arlessly
among the confused mass of French cavalry, creeping
beneath the horses' bellies, standing up v.'ben they got
a chance, and stabbing horses and men with their
knives and pikes. ]\Iany were trampled upon or
strnck down, liut numbering, as they did, 0000, they
pervaded the whole mass of the enemy, and did terrible
I'xecution, adding in no small decrree to the confusion
(iiu.sfid by the shower of arrows from the archers

i !

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i!r:'l^itHi|^

,,..

ii.

Ulil

!i ill

216

THE KING OF BOHEMIA.

within the circle of the men-at-arms. The instant a
Frencli knight fell, struck from his horse with a
battle-axe or arrow, or by the fall of a wounded .stootl,
the half-wild Welsh were upon him, and slew hiin
before he could regain iiis fcH't.

The slauL''hter was immense. The Count of Tlar-
court, with his nephew tlie Count D'Aumale and liis
two gallant sons, fell together, and at last Charles of
Luxembourg, seeing his hainier down, his troops routed,
liis friends slain, and the day irreparably lost, and beiiii,'
himself severely wounded in three places, turned his
horse and tied, casting off his rich emblazoned sutcoat
to avoid recognition. In the meantime Prince Charles's
father, the veteran King of Bohemia, once one of the
jnost famous warriors of Europe, but now old and
blind, sat on horseback at a little distance from the
iiirhfc; ihe kniirhts around him told him the events n?
they happened, and the old monarch soon saw tnnt
the day »Vvas lost. He asked them for tidings of his son
Charles of inxembourg, l)ut they were forced to reply
that the banner of the King of the Ilonians was \w
longer in s'gh', V)ut that, doubtless, he was somewhere
eiiirfXTpr^ ir, the meh'e.

" Lon, J," said the old man, " you are my vassals, niy
friends cind my companions, and on this day I com-
mand u vi beseech you to lead me forward so far that
I may 'J ?rJ one blow of my sword in the battle."

Kis taiihful friends obeyed him, a number of knights
ananged \,hemselves around him, and lest they should
lose him in the iiglit they tied their horses together by
the bridles and charged down into the fray. Advanc-
ing directly against the banner of the Prince of Wales,
the blind monarch was carried into the midst of tin^
thickest strife, 'i'here the little group of kniL;lit,'

THE ROUT OF THE FRENCH.

217

fonolit <:fallantly, and after the battle was over the
liodies of the king and his friends were found Ij'ing
top^ether, their dead horses still linked by the bridles.

During this terrible battle, which had been racking
since three o'clock, Phillip had made strenuous etibrts
ti) aid his troops engaged in the front by continually
sL'iiding fresh bodies to the assault. It was now grow-
ing dark, terror and confusion had ab'cady spread
aiiiong tlie French, and many were tlyini; in all direc-
tions, and the unremittino; showers of English arrows
still Hew like hail among their ranks. As the king made
liis way forward, surrounded by his personal atten-
dants, to take part himself in the tight, his followers fell
thick around him, and his horse was slain by an arrow.
Juhn of Hainault, who had remained by his side during
the whole day, mounted him upon a fresh horse and
uriicd him to Hy, as the day was lost. Phillip, however,
persisted, and made his way into the melee, where he
fouiifht for some time with extreme courage, until
almost all around him were slain, the royal standard-
bearer killed, i'^d himself wounded in two places.
John of Hainault then seized his bridle e::claiming,
"Com» away, sire, it is full time; do not throw your life
.away foolishly; if you have lost this day you wdl win
aiK'tliur," and so almost forced the unwilling king
tium the field. Phillip, accompanied by the lords of
Montmorency, Bcaujeu, Aubigny, and Mansault, with
-Tohu of Hainault, and sixty men-at-arms, rode to the
Castle of Broye, and there halted for a few hours. At
midnight he again set out, and in the morning arrived
Wifely at Amiens.

The Black Prince held his station until night v/ithout
yi(!lding a single step to all the efforts of the French.
^^iiadually, huwever, the assailants becauie less a'ul

I: '

I . If H

218

THE NIGHT AFTER THE BATTLE.

.1 ii

:! 5

!!;'

less numerous, the banners disappeared, and the shovits
of the leaders and the clang of anus died away, and tlie
silence which prevailed over the field at once announced
that the victory was complete and the enemy in full
ilight. An immense nuinber of torches were now
lighted through the English lines, and the king, quitting
for the first time his station on the hill, came down to
embrace his gallant son. Edward and his host rejoiced
in a spii'it of humility over the victory. No songs of
triumph, no feastings or merriment were permitted,
but a solenm service of the church was held, and the
king and his soldiers offer*. 1 their thanks to God for
the victory he had given them. The English army
lay all night under arms, and a number of scattered
parties of the French wandering about in the darkness,
enterec! the lines and were slain or taken prisoners.

The dawn of the next morning was thick and foggy,
and intelligence coming in that a large body of the
enemy were advancing upon them, the Earls of North-
ampton. "Warwick, and Norfolk, with 500 men-at-
arms and 2000 archers, went out to reconnoitre, und
came in the misty twilight upon an immen.se force
composed of the citizens of Beauvais, louen, and some
other towns, led bv the Grand Prior of France and
the Archbishop of Rouen, who were approaching the
field.

By some extraordinary accident they had not met
any of tl ^ fugitives flying from Cressy, and were igno-
rant that a battle had been fought. The English charged
them at once. Their advance-guard, consisting of
burghers, was easily overthrown. The second division,
which was composed of men-at-arms, fought bravely,
but was unable to withstand the charge of the trium-
phant English, and was completely broken and de-

!^ ! I !.

TIIK l.USSi:S AT CllliSSY.

219

fcatcd. The Grand Prior was killed and a vast number
(if his followers slain or captured. During the whole
of the morning detached parties from Edward's army
scoured the country, dispersing and slaughtering bands
of French who still remained together, and totvards
iii^ht the Earl of Northampton returned to the camp
with the news that no enemy remained in the vicinity
tliat could otl'er a show of resistance to the English
force.

]t is said that a far greater number of French were
killed upon the second day than upon the first. This
can be accounted for by the fact tliat on the first day
liut a small portion of the English army were engaged,
ami that upon the second the English were fresh and
vijjforous, and their enemies exhausted and dispirited.

The greater number of the French nobles and knights
wlio full, died in their attempts to break through the
Black Prince's array. Besides the King of Bohemia,
nine sovereign princes and eighty great nobles were
killed, with 1200 knights, 1500 men-at-arms, and
80,000 foot; while on the English side only three
knights and a small number of men-at-arms and in-
fatitry were killed. The body of the King of Bohemia
and those of the other great leaders were carried in
solciMiM pomp to the Abbey of Maintenay. Edward
himself and hife son accompanied them as mourners.

On the Monday following Edward marched with
his army against Calais, and summoned the town
to sun-ender. John of Vienne, who commanded the
garrison, refused to comply with the demand. The
I'ortitications of the town were extremely strong and
the garrison numeroua, and Edward perceived that an
assault would be very unlikely to succeed, and would
email great loss, while a repulse would have dimmed

ir-

}-' i!i

ii': >'l|

1 '!;

.1 ;; i

:-:o

THE SIKGE OF CALAIS.

tlie lustre of the success which he had gained. ITe
tlieret'ore determined to reduce it by famine, and tlie
troops were set to work to build huts. So permanently
and strongly were tlicse constructed that it seemed to
the enemy that King Edward waf5 determined to re-
main before Calais even should he have tc stay there
for ten years.

Pi-()chimations were issued in England and Flanders
invitini; trailers to establish stores and to brini:; ar-
tides of trade of all kinds, and in a short time a coni-
])lete town sprang up which was named by Edward
"New-Town the Bold." The English fleet held com-
plete possession of the sea, cutting off* the besieged from
all siiccour by ship, and enabling abundant supplies
for the army to be brought from England and Flanders.
Strong parties were sent out in all directions. Tlie
northern provinces of France were scoured, and the
army was amply provided with necessaries and even
bixuries.

After the first terrible shock caused by the crushing
defeat of Cressy, King Phillip began at once to take
measures for the relief of Calais, and made immense
efforts again to put a great army in the field. He
endeavoured by all means in his power to gain f-esh
allies. The young Count of Flanders, who, at the
death of his father at Cressy, was sixteen years of age,
was naturally even more hostile to the Eniilish than
the late prince had been, and he strove to win over his
subjects to the French alliance, while Phillip made
them magnificent offers if they would join him. The
Flemings, however, remained staunch to the English
alliance, and held their prince in duresse until he at
last consented to marry the daughter of Edward. A
week before the date fixed for the nuptials, however,

RALPH REFUSES PROMOTION.

221

he managed to escape from the vigilance of his guards
when out hawking, and Hed to the court of France.

In Scotland Phillip was more successful, and David
Bruce, instead of employing the time given him by the
absence of Edward with his armies in driving out the
Enolish garrisons from the strong places they still
held in Scotland, raised an army of .')0,000 men an<l
marched across the Border into England plundering
and ravaging. Queen Philippa, however, raising an
ariii}'', marched against him, and the Scotch were com-
pletely defeated at Neville's Cross, 1.5,000 being killed
and their king himself taken prisoner.

Walter's conduct at the battle ol" Cressy gained him
still further the favour of the Black Prince. The
valour with which he had fought was conspicuous even
on a field where all fought gallantly, and the Prince
felt that more than once he would have been smitten
down had not Walter's sword interposed. Ralph too
had fought with reckless bravery, and many French
knights and gentlemen had gone down before the
tremendous blows of his heavy mace, against which
the stoutest armour availed nothina;. After the battle
the prince offered to make him an esquire in spite of
the absence of gentle blood in his veins, but P;ilph de-
clined the honour.

"An it please you, Sir Prince," he said, "but I should
feel more comfortable among the men-at-arms, my
fellows. In the day of battle I trust that I should do
no discredit to my squirehood, but at other times I
should feel woefully out of my element, and should
tind nought for my hands to do, therefore if it so
pleases your Royal Highness, I would far rather remain
a simple man-at-arms."

Ralph did not, however, refuse the heavy purse which

71^

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iij ^Mi.'fl

•)')0

AN AITEMPT AT ASSASSINATION.

■j /.

■ill

the prince gave him, although indeed he, as well as all
the soldiers, wa.s well supplied with money, so great
were the spoils which the army had gathered in its
march bi^t'ore Cres.sy, and which tli'iy now swept oil' in
their raids among the northern provinces of France.

One evening Walter was returning from a ban(]iict
at the pavilion of the Prince of Wales, with Rali)h as
usual following at a little distance, when from a corntT
of the street a man darted suddenly out and struck a
dagger with all his force between his shoulders. Well
was it for Walter that he had taken Geoffrey s advice,
and had never laid aside the shirt of mail, night or
day. Fine as was its temper, two or three links of
the outer fold were broken, but the point did not
penetrate the second fold, and the dagger snapped in
the hand of the striker. The force of the suilden blow,
however, hurled Walter to the ground. With a loud
cry Ralph rushed forward. The man instantly tied,
Ralph pursued him but a short distance and then
hastened back to Walter.

" Are you hurt, Sir Walter?" he exclaimed.

" In no way, Ralph, thanks to my shirt of mail.
Well, indeed, was it for me that I was wearing it or 1
should assuredly have been a dead man. I had almost
begun to forget that I was a threatened man; but I
shall be on guard for the future."

" I wish I had followed the fellow," Ralph said. " I
would not have slain him could I have helped it, but
would have left it for the hangman to extort from him
the name r? his employer; but, in truth, he struck so
hard, and you fell so straight before the blow, that I
feared the mail had given way, and that you were
sorely wounded if not killed. You have oft told ine
that I was over-careful of you, but you see that I was

A CAITIFF KNIGHT.

2-'3

I . '«.:

'•atheroJ in its

not careful enough; however, you may be fissured tliat
if another attempt be made those who attempt it shall
not get off s(!ot free. 13o you tliink of laying a com-
plaint before the provost against liim you suspect?"

"It would be useless, Ralph. We may have suspicion
of the man from whom the blow came, but have no
maimer of proof. It might luive been done by any ruf-
fian camp-follower who strnck the blow only with the
ho]>e of carrying otl' my chain and purse. The camp
swarms with snch fellows, and we have no clue which
could lead to his detection, unless," he added, stooping
and picking up a piece of ste^l which lay at his feet,
"this broken dagger may some day furnish us with one.
Xo; we will say nought about it. Sir James Carnegie
is not now in camp, having left a week since on
business in England. We exchange no words when we
meet, but I heard tliat he had been called away. For-
tunately the young prince likes him not, and I there-
fore have seldom occasion to meet him. I have no
doubt that he credits me with the disfavour in which
ho is held by the prince; but I have never even men-
tioned his name before him, and the prince's misliking
is but the feeling which a noble and generous heart
has, as though by instinct, against one who is false and
treacherous. At the same time we must grant that
this traitor knight is a bold and fearless man-at-arms;
he fought well at La Blanche Tache and Cressy, and he
is much liked and trusted by my lord of Northampton,
in whose following he mostly rides ; 'tis a pity that
one so brave should have so foul and treacherous
a heart. Here we are at my hut, and you can sleep
soundly to-night, Ralph, for there is little fear that
the fellow, who has failed to-night, will repeat his
attempt for some time. He thinks, no doubt, that he has

.ii '

lltMir

001

TIIR IMUNCE's IXQUIFUES,

killed me, for with a blow so strongly struck he woiiM
scarce have felt the snapping of the weapon, and is
likely enough already on board one of the ships whicli
ply to and fro from England on his way to acquaint
his employer that I am removed from his path."

The next morning Walter mentioned to the Bla(l<
Prince the venture which had befallen him, and tin'
narrow escape he had had of his life. The prince was
extremely exasperated, and gave orders that an in-
(piisition should be made through the camp, and tliat
all men found there not being able to give a good ai -
count of themselves as having reasonable and lawful
calling there should be forthwith put on board shi|i
and sent to Englaiul. He (piestioned W^alter closely
whether he deemed that this attack was for the pur-
pose of plunder only, or whether he had any reason to
believe that he had private enemies.

" There is a knight who is evilly disposed toward
me, your highness," Walter said ; " but seeing that I
have no proof whatever that he had a hand in this
affair, however strongly 1 may suspect it, ] would
fain, with your leave, avoid niLintioning his name."

" But think you that there is any knight in thin
camp capable of so foul an action?"

" 1 have had proofs, your highness, that he is capable
of such an act; but in this matter my tongue is tied, as
the wrong he attempted was not against myself, but
against others who have so far forgiven him that tliev
would fain the matter should drop. He owes me ill-
will, seeing that I am aware of his conduct, and that
it was my intervention which caused his schemes to
fail. Should this attempt against me be repeated it can
scarce be the effect of chance, but would show pre-
meditated design, and I would then, both in defence

J/'W

A PROPOSAL OF THE PRINCE.

225

of mv own life, and because I think that such deeds
should not go unpunished, not hesitate to name him
to you, and if proof be wanting to defy hiia to open
coinhat."

"1 regret, Sir Walter, that your scruples should
hinder you from at once denouncing him; but seeing
how grave a matter it is to charge a knight with so
foul a crime, I will not lay stress upon you; but be
assured that should any repetition of the attempt be
made I shall take the matter in hand, and will see
that this caitiff knight receives his deserts."

A short time afterwards Walter accompanied the
prince in an excursion which he made with a portion
of the army, sweeping the French provircos as far as
tlie river Somme. Upon their way buck they passed
through the village of Pr^s, hard by which stood a
small castle. It was situate some forty miles from Calais,
and standing upon rising ground, it commanded a very
extensive view over the country.

"What say you. Sir Walter?" the prince said to the
young knight who was riding near him. " That castle
would make a good advanced post, and a messenger
riding in could bring news of any large movements of
the enemy." Walter assented. " Then, Sir Walter, I
name you its chatelain. I shall be sorry to lose your
good company; but the post is one of peril, and I know
that you are ever longing to distinguish yourself. Take
forty men-at-arms and sixty archers. With that force
you may make shift to resist any attack until help
reaches you from camp. You may be sure that I shall
not be slack in spurring to your rescue should you be
assailed."

Walter received the proposal with delight. He was
weary of the monotony of life in New Town, and this

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226

WAI/I'KU'S COMMAND.

post, in which vi^'ilance and activity would be required
was just to his tastu; so, taking' the force named Ly
the prince, with a store of provision, lie drew oil from
the column and entered the castle.

Ml ill

II lit

CHAPTER XV.

THE SIEGE OF A FOIITALICE.

ALTEll'S first step on assun.ing the command
was to examine thoroughly into the capa-
bilities of defence of the place, to see that
the well was in good order, and the supply
of water ample, and to send out a foragin

party, which, driving in a number of beasts and some
cart-loads of forage, would supply his garrison for some
time. The castle he found was less stronjr than it
looked. The walls were lightly built, and were in-
capable of withstanding any heavy battering. The
moat was dry, and the flanking towers badly placed,
and ailbrding little protection to the faces of the walls;
however, the extent of the defences was small, and
Waiter felt confident that with the force at his com-
inuiid he could resist any sudden attack, unless made
in overwhehning force, so that all the faces of the wall
could be assaulted at the same time. He had a
large number of great stones brought in to pile against
the gate, while others were brought into the central
keep, similarly to defend the door should the outer
wall be carried. He appointed Ralph as his lieutenant,
and every day, leaving him in charge of the castle, rode
through the country for many miles round, with twenty

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228

FOKACiINO FOR STOKFS.

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nion-fit-nnns, to convince luni.s<!lf tlmt no consitlornlil..
force of the enemy were approiicliin^. ThoHe rirnn-
naissaiices were not without some dani,'er and excit,'-
ment, for several times bodies of the country peoj)lt!
armed witli scythes, axes, and staves, tried to inten i|it
tliem on tlieir return to the castle, and once or tu ice
Walter and his men had to fi<;ht their way thronHh
their opponents, (/ontrary to the custom of the tiints,
Walter <^ave orders to his men not to slay any wlun
resistance had ceased.

" They are but doing what we ourselves should ilo
did French gai'risons hold our castles at home, and I
deem them in no way to be blamed for the eflorts
which they make to slay us. In self-defence, of coiuse,
we nuist do our best, and must kill in order that we
may not ouiselves be slain; but when they are once
routed, let them go to their homes. Poor people, tlie
miseries which this war has brou<jfht upon them are
great, and there is no wonder tliat they hate us,"

This leniency on Walter's part was not without
good efl'ect. When the country people found that tlie
garrison of the castle of Pros did not carry tire ami
sword through the villages around, that they took
only sufficient for their needs, and behaved with cour-
tesy to all, their animosity to a great extent subsideil.
No longer did the women and children of the little
villages fly to the woods when they saw the gleam of
Walter's approaching spears, but remained at their avo-
cations, and answered willingly enough the questions
which he asked them as to whether they had heart!
aught of the movements of French troops. So far a."
possibl'^, Walter refrained from seizing the cattle or
stores of grain of the poorer classes, taking such as
he needed from the lands of the wealthy proprietors,

A HOSTILE FOKCE.

229

all of wliorn imd left the country, and were cither with
the French aruiy or .sheltering in I'aris. Five; of his
best mounted .nen Walter chose as nies.senv;((rs, and
one rode each dav to New Town with the news which
had been gathered, returning on the following day,
and then resting his horse for three days before again
setting out.

Night and day sentries were placed on the walls,
for although Walter heard nothing of any body gather-
in*,' in his innnediato vicinity, a force might at any
iiiunient issue from Amiens and appear suddenly before
the place. Such was indeetl what really took place,
and at daybreak one morning Walter was aroused by
the news that the sentinels saw a large body of men
rapidly approaching. The hor.se of the messenger next
on duty stood, as usual, saddled and bridled in readi-
ness, and without a moment's delay W^alter ordered the
man to mount and ride to the prince, and to give news
that the castle was as.sailed, but by how large a force
he could not as yet say.

The instant the messenger had started throujjh the
gates Walter a.scended to the walls; he saw at once
that the party was a strong one; for although still at
some di.stance, and but dindy seen in the gray morning
lij;;ht, he judged that it must contain at least a thousand
men-at-arms. At this moment a call from the sentry on
the other side of the castle was heard, and hastening
thither, Walter saw that another body nearly as numer-
ous as the first were approaching from the side of
Calais, having made a detour so as to place them-
selves between the castle and the army, to which news
would naturally be sent of their coming. Walter
watched his messenirer, who had now ridden half a
mile towards the approaching body. Suddenly he saw

230

THE MESSENGER CUT OFF.

him turn his horse and ride off at right angles to tlie
road.

" He sees them," he said, "and is goinj:; to try to ride
round them. 1 I'ear that there is but little hope of his
escaping, .seeing tlmt they are between him and Calais,
and that assuredly some among them must be as well
or better mounted than himself." As he spoke a party
of horseinen were seen to detach themselves troiu
the Hank of the French column and to gallop otl' at
full speed to intercept the messenger; the latter di-
verged more and more from his course, but he was
constantly headed oti" by his puit:uers, and at last see-
ing the impossibility of getting through them, he again
turned his horse's head and galloped off towards the
castle, which he reached a few humlred yards cnly in
advance of his foes.

"1 couid not help it, Sir "Walter," he said, as he
galloped ivi at the gate. "I found that although Robin
is fast, some of those horsemen ha<l the turn ot speed
of me, and that it was impossible that 1 could get
through; so deeming that I should do moie service by
coining to strike a blow here than by having my throat
cut out in the fields, 1 made the best of my way back."

"Quite right, Martin!" Walter said. "I should have
been grieved had you thrown your life away need-
lessly. I saw from the first that your escape was cut otf.
And now, men, eac)i to his place; but first pile up the
stones against the gate, and then let each man take
a good meal, for it is like e.io.igh to be long before we
get a chance of doing so again."

Aiiain ascendinj; to the walls Walter saw that the
first body of men-at-arms he had perceived was
followed at a di«tance by a strong force of footmen
havinij wi*h them some lar<,'e wajrijons.

BEI.EAOUERED.

231

"T fear," lie said to Ralph, "that t ley have brought
machines with them from Amiens, and in that case
they will not be long in efi'ecting a breach, for doubt-
less thej know that the walls are but weak. We shall
have to fight stoutly, for it may be days before the
news of our leaguer reaches the camp. However, I trust
that the prince will, by to-morrow night, when he
linds that two days have elapsed without the coming
of my usual messenger, suspect that we are besieged
and will sally forth to our assistance. And now let
us to breakfast, for we shall Tieed all our f.trength
to-day, and you may be sure that fciie French will lose
no time in attacking, seeing that assistance may shortly
anive from Calais."

I'^^ere were but few preparations to be made. Each
man had had his post assigned to him on the walls in
"Ase of an attack, and. piles of stones had been colk cted
in readiness to cast down upon the heads of those at-
tempting an assault. Cauldrons were carried up to the
walls and tilled with water, and great fires were lighted
onder them. In half an hour the French infantry had
reached the spot, but another two hours elapsed before
any hostile movement was made, the leaders of the
assailants giving their men that time to rest after their
long march. Then a stir was visible among them, and
they were seen to form in four columns, each about a
thousand strong, which advanced simultaneously against
opposite sides of the castle.

As soon as their intentions were manifest Walter
divided his little force, and these, gathering in four
groups upon the walls, prepared to resist the assault.
To four of his most trusty men-at-arms he assigned the
command of these parties, he himself and Ralph being
thus left free to give their aid where it was most needed.

hi IS

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2.32

THE FIRST ASSAULT.

The assailants were well provided with scaling-lad-
ders, and advanced with a number of crossbovv-niun
in front, who speedily opened a hot fire on the walls.
Walter ordered his archers to bide their time, and not
to fire a shot till certain that every shaft would toll.
They accordingly waited until the French arrived
within fifty yards of the wall, when the arrows began
to rain among them with deadly effect, scarce one but
struck its mark — the face of an enemy. Even the
closed vizors of the knights and chief men-at-arms
did not avail to protect their wearers; the shafts
pierced between the bars or penetrated the slits left
open for sight, and many fell slain by the first volley.
But their numbers were far too great to allow the
columns being checked by the fire of so small a
number of archers; the front ranks, indeed, pres.sed for-
ward more eagerly than before, being anxious to reach
the foot of the wall, where they would be in com-
parative shelter from the arrows.

The archers disturbed themselves in no way at the
reaching of the wall by the heads of the colunms; but
continued to shoot fast and true into the mass behind
them, and as these were, for the most part, less com
pletely armed than their leaders, numbers fell under
the fire of the sixty English bowmen. It was the turn
of the men-at-arms now. Immediately the assailants
poured into the dry moat and sought to raise their lad-
ders the men-at-arms hurled down the masses of stones
piled in readiness, while some poured buckets of
boiling water over them. In spite of the loss they
were suffering the French raised their ladders, and,
covering their heads with their shields, the leaders
strove to gain the walls. As they did so, some of the
archers took post in the flanking towers, and as with

THE MACHINE FIIOM AMIENS.

233

uplifted uriTis tlie assailants climbed the ladders, the
ai'chers smote them above the joints of their armour
beneath the arm-pits, while the men-at-arms with
pike and battle-axe hewed down thoie who reached
the top of the ladders. Walter and Ralph hastened
from point to point encouraging the men and joinin<T
in the defence where the pressure was hottest; ana
at last, after two hours of vain effort and suflering
great loss, the assailants drew otf and the garrison had
breathing time.

" Well done, my men!" Walter said, cheeringly; "they
have had a lesson which they will remember, and if
so be that they have brought with them no machines
we may hold out against them for any time."

It was soon manifest, however, that along with
the scaling-ladders the enemy had brought one of
their war-machines. Men were seen dracjs^infj massive
beams of timber towards the ■\.alls, and one of the
waggons was drawn forward and upset on its side at a
distance of GO yards from the wall, not, however, with-
out those who drew it sutterini; much from the arrows
of the bowmen. Behind the shelter thus formed the
French began to put together the machine, whose
beams soon raised themselves hi^h above the waggon.

In the meantime groups of men dragged great stones
laid upon a sort of hand sledge to the machine, and late
in *the afternoon it beij^an to cast its missiles against
the wall. Aijainst these Walter could do little. He
bad nj sacks, which, idled with earth, he might have
lowered to cover the part of the walls assailed, and
beyond aimoying those working the machines by
llii^bts of arrows shot high in the air, so as to descend
point downwards among them, he could do nothing.

The wall crund)led rapidly beneath the blows •;!'

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23^

A NIGHT SORTIE.

the great stones, and Walter saw that by the following
morning a breach would be eflbcted. When night
fell he called his men together and asked if any would
volunteer to carry news through the enemy to the
prince. The enterprise seemed well-nigh hopeless, for
the French, as if foreseeing that such an attempi
might be made, had encamped in a complete circ'e
round the castle, as was manifest by the position ot
their fires. Several men stepped forward, and Walter
chose three light and active men — archers — to attempt
the enterprise. These stripped off their steel caps and
breastpieces, so that they might move more quickly,
and when the French lires burned low and all was
quiet save the creak of the machine and the dull
heavy blows of the stones against the wall, the three
L:en were lowered by ropes at difi'erent points, and
started on their enterprise. A quarter of an hour
later the garrison heard shouts and cries, and knew
that a vigilant watch had been set by the French, and
that one, if not all, of their friends had fallen into
their hands. All night long the machine continued to
play.

An hour before daylight, when he deemed that the
enemy's vigilance would be relaxed, Walter caused
hi-nself with Ralph f<ad twehe of his men-at-arms to
be lowered by ropes from the wall. Each rope had a
loop at the bottom in which one foot was placed, and
knots were tied in order to give a better grasp for the
iiands. They were lowered at a short distance from
the spot at which the machine was at work; all were
armed with axes, and they made their way unperceived
until within a few yards of the waggon. Then there
was a cry of alarm, and in a moment they rushed for-
ward among the enemy. The men working the machine

DESTRUCTION OF THE MACHINE.

2:^5

were instiintly cut down, and Walter and liis party i'e'll
upon the machine, cuttinj^ tlu ropes and sniashini^* tlio
wheels and pulleys and hewing away at the timber
itself. In a minute or two, liowever, tliey were
attacked b}' tlie enemy, the officer in command having
bade a hundred men lie down to sleep close behind the
machine in case the garrison should attempt a sortie.
Walter called upon Ralph and four of the men-at-arms
to stand beside him while the others continued their
work of destruction. The French came up in a tumul-
tuous body, but standing so far apart that they could
wield their axes, the Encrlish dealt such destruction
among their first assailants that these for a time re-
coiled. As fresh numbers came up, encouraged by their
leader they renewed the attack, and in spite of the
laost tremendous etlbrts Walter and his party were
driven back. By this time, however, so much damage
had been done to the machine that it would be some
hours before it could be repaired, even if spare ropes
and other appliances had been brought with it from
Amiens; so that, reinforced by the working party,
Walter was again able to hold his ground, and after
repulsing a fresh onslaught of the enemy he gave the
word for his men to retire at full speed.

The French were so surprised by the sudden dis-
appearance of their foes that it was a moment or two
before they started in pursuit, and Walter and his men
had gained some thirty yards before the pursuit really
commenced.

The night was a dark one, and they considerably
increased this advantage before they reached the foot
of the wall, where the ropes were hanging.

" Have each of you found his rope?" W^alter asked.

As soon as an affirmative answer was given he

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236

BREATHING TIME.

I m

placed his foot in the loop and shouted to the men
above to draw up, and before the enraged enemy could
reach the spot the whole party were alr-^ady some
yards above their heads. The archers opened fire upon
the Frencli, doing, in spite of the darkness, considerabhi
execution, for the men had snatched up their arms at
the sudden alarm, and had joined the fray in such haste
that many of them had not had time to put on their
steel caps. There was noise and bustle in the enemy's
camp, for the whole force were now under arms, and
in their anijer at the sudden blow which had been
totruck them seme bodies of men even moved forward
towards the walls as if they intended to renew the
assault of the previous day; tjut the showers uf arrows
with which they were greeted cooled their ardour
and they presently retired out of reach of bowshot.
There was a respite now for the besiegers. No longer
every few minutes did a heavy stone strike the walls.

The morning's light enabled the defenders of th»^
castle to see the extent o£ the damaije which the batter-
ing machine had effected. None too soon had they put
a stop to its work, for had it continued its operations
another hour or two would have ejected a breach.

Already large portions of the wall facing it had
fallen, and other portions were so seriously damaged
that a few more blows would have levelled them.

" At any rate," Walter said to Ralph, "we have
gained a respite; but even now I fear that if the
Black Prince comes not until to-morrow he will arrive
too late."

The French, apparently as well aware as the garrison
of the necessity for haste, laboured at the repair of
the machine. Bodies of men started to cut down
trees to supply the place of the beams which had been

THE ASSAULT OF THE UUEACH.

2.57

rendered useless. Scarcely had the assault ceased when
horsemen were despatched in various directions to seek
lor fresh ropes, and by dint of the greatest exertions
the machine was placed in position to renew its attack
shortly after noon.

By two o'clock several large portions of the damaged
wall had fallen, and the debris formed a slope by which
an assaulting column could rusii to the bridge. As soon
as this was manifest the French force formed for the
assault and rushed forward in solid column.

Walter had made the best preparation possible for
the defence. In the court-yard behind the breach his
men had since morning been driving a circ'e of piles,
connected by planks fastened to them. These were
some five feet high, and along the top and in the face
next to the breach sharp-pointed spikes and nails had
been driven, rendering it difficult in the extreme for
anyone to climb over. As the column of the assailants
ap])roached Walter placed his archers on the walls on
either side of the breach, while he himself, with his
men-at-arms, took his station in the gap and faced
the coming host. The breach was some ten yards wide,
hut it was only for about half this width that the
mound of broken stones rendered it possible for their
enemies to assault, consequently there was but a space
of some fifteen feet in width to be defended. Regard-
less of the flights of arrows, the French, headed by
tlieir knights and squires, advanced to the assault, and
clambering up the rough stonos attacked the defenders.

Walter, with Ralph and three of his best men-at-
arms, stood in the front line and received the first
shock of the assault. The roughness and steepness of
the mound prevented the French from attacking in
regular order, and the very eagerness of the knights

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238

BACKWARD BOUNE.

and squires who came first in contnct witli their ene-
mies was a liiiiih-iinee to them. When tlie eohiiims
were neeji gathering I'or tlie ;issanlt Walter iiad scat
tered ooveral barrels Full of oil and tar which lit; i'ouinl
in the cellars over the mound in front of the breacii,
rendering it greasy and slippery, and causing flu-
assailants to slip and stagger and many to fall as they
ressed forward to the assault. 1 before the fiolit com-
menced lie had encouraged his soldiers by recalling
to them how a mere handful of men had at Cv('ssy
withstood for hours the rlosperate efforts of the whole
of the French army lo break througl'. their lim,, and
all were prepared to fight to the (U>ath.

The struggle Avas a desperate one. Served by tluir
higher position, and by the difficulties -"hich the French
encountered from the sli'meriness of the "-round and
their own fierce ard(;ur to atuick, Walter and his little
band i'or a long time resisted every efibi't. He with his
sword and Ralph with his heav^y mace did great execu-
tion, and they were nobly seconded by their men-at-
ftruxfi. As fast as one fell another took his place. The
breach in front of them was cumbered with dead and
red with blood. Still the French poured upward in ii
wave, and the sheer weight of their numbers and tlie
fatigue caused by the tremendous exertions the <Je-
fenders were making began to tell. Step Ijy stop the
English were driven back, and Walter saw th.^t the
defence could not much kmger be continued. He ba^le
one of his men-at-arms at once Oider tiie archers to
cease firing, and, leaving the walls, to take refuge in
the keep, and thence to open fire upon the French as
they poured through the breach

When ho found that tliis movement had been ac-
complished Walter bade the men-at-arms fall back

RETIRING TO THE KEEP.

239

gradually. A gap had been left in the wooden fence
.sutlicieiit for one at a time to puss, and throui,'h this
tliu nien-at-uruis retired one by one to the keep until
only Walter and five others were left. With these
Walter Hung himself suddenly upon the assailants and
fenced them a few feet down the slope. Then he gave
the word, and all sprang back, and leaping down from
tlie wall into the court-yard ran through the barrier,
Walter and Ralph being the last to pass as the French
with exulting shouts leapt down from the breach.

There was another fierce fight at the barrier. Walter
left Ralph to defend this with a few men-at-arms while
he saw that all was in readiness for closing the door
rapidly in the keep. Then he r' .1 back again. He
was but just in time. Ralph indeed could for a long
time have held the narrow passage, but the barriers
themselves were yielding. The French were pouring
in through the breach, and as those behind could not
see the nature of the obstacle which ai rested the ad-
vance of their companions they continued to push for-
ward, and by their weight pressed those in front against
the spikes in the barrier. Many perished miserably on
these. Others, whose armour protected them from this
fate, were crushed to death by the pressure; but this
wac now so great that the timbers were yielding.
Walter, seeing that in another moment they would be
levelled gave tl e word, sprang back with Ralph and
his party, t,nd entered the keep just as with a crash
the barrier fell and the French poured in a crowd into
the court-yard. Bolting the door the defenders of the
keep piled against it the stones which had been laid in
readiness.

The door was on the first floor, and was approached
by a narrow flight of stone steps, up which but two

240

THE KEEP HOLDS OUT.

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abreast could advance. In their first fury the Frendi
poured up these steps, hut from the loopholes which
coniinandud it the En<,dish bowmen shot so hard that
their arrows pierced the strongest armour. Smitten
through vizor and armour, nuud)ers of the bravest of
the assailants fell dead. Those who gained the top of
the steps were assailed by .showers of boiling oil from
an upper chamber which projected over the door, and
whose tloor was pierced for this purpose, while from
the top of the keep showers of stones were poured
down. After losing great numbers in this desperate
etibrt at assault the French drew off for a while, while
their leaders held council as to the best measures to be
taken for the capture of the keep.

iXfter a time Walter from the summit saw several
bodies of men detach themselves from the crowd still
without the castle and proceed into the country. Two
hours later they were seen returning laden with trunks
of trees. These were dragged through the breach, and
were, in spite of the efforts of the archers and of the
men-at-arms with their stones, placed so as to form
a sort of penthouse against one side of the keep.
Numbers of the soldiers now poured up with sacks
and all kinds of vessels which they had gathered from
the surroundinjx villacres, filled with earth. This was
thrown over the beams until it filled all the crevices
between them and formed a covering a foot thick, so
that neither boiling oil nor water poured from above
could penetrate to injure those working beneath its
shelter. When all was ready a strong body armed with
picks and crowbars entered the penthouse and began
to labour to cut away the wall of the keep itself.

" Their commander knows his business," Walter said,
*-'and the device is an excellent one. We can do

df:atii or sukrendkr.

941

ry the Frcncli
opholes which

so hard that
our. Smitten
the bravest of
ned the top of
oiling oil from

the door, and

)se, while from

i were poured

this desperate

a while, while

measures to be

lit saw several
the crowd still
country. Two
len with trunks
the breach, and
lers and of the
so as to form
e of the keep.
up with sacks
1 gathered from
arth. This was
all the crevices
a foot thick, so
ired from above
:in<: beneath its
)ody armed with
nouse and began
vcep itself.
ess," Walter said,
le. We can do

notlii.ig, and it only depends upon the strength of the
wall how long we can hold out. The masonry is by no
means good, and before nightfall, unless aid comes,
there will be nought for us but death or surrender."

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CHAPTER XVI.

A PRISONER.

S lonjf as it was lijrht an anxious look-out
was kept I'roiu tlio top of the keep to^Yanls
Calais. There was nothing to be clone. The
besiegers who had entered the walls were
ensconced in the various buildings in tlie
court-yard or placed behind walls so as to be out of
arrow-shot from above, and were in readiness to apt I
any sortie which might be made to interfere with tin;
work going on under the penthouse. But no sortie
was possible, for to effect this it would be necessary tu
remove the stones from the door, and before this could
be accomplished the besiegers would have rallied in
overwhelming force, nor could a sortie have effected
anything beyond the slaying of the men actually
engaged in the work. The beams of the penthouse
were too strong and too heavily weighted with earth
to be removed, and the attempt would only have en-
tailed useless slaughter. The penthouse was about I
forty feet in length, and the assailants were piercing
three openings, each of some six feet in width, leavin;; |
two strong supporting pil lars between them. Anx ionsly
the garrison within listened to the sounds of \vork,M I

I anxious look-out
' the keep towanls
ig to be done. The
•eJ tho walls wen;
3 buildings in tlie
so as to be out of
1 readiness to rt-pil

interfere with tin;
se. But no sortie
uld be necessary to
id before this couM
M have rallied in
;ortie have eiiecttvl

the men actually
s of the penthou>e
eighted with etu'tli
ould only have en-
nthouse was about

ants were pierciiis;
et in width, leavin:^

n them. Anxiously

10 sounds of work,

A PARLEY.

243

which hecnmo louder and louder as the walls crumbled
liL'tore the stroke of pickaxe and crowbar.

"I shall hold out until the last njoment," Walter
said to Ralph, "in hopes of relief, but before they
liiirst in I shall sound a i)arley. To resist further would
ho a vain sacrifice of lite."

Presently a movement could be seen among the
.stones, and then almost simultaneously two apertures
appeared. The ohainlter into which the openings were
iiiude was a larw one, beinLi used as the connnon room
of the garrison. Here twenty archers, and the re-
maining men-at-arms — of whom nearly one-half had
fallen in the defence of the breach — were gathered, and
the instant the orifices appeared the archers began to
sond their arrows through them. Then Walter as-
cended to another chamber, and ordered the trumpeter
to sound a parley.

The sound was repeated by the assailants' trumpeter.

"Who cominands the force?" Walter asked.

" I, Guy, Count of Evreux."

"I am Sir Walter Somers," the young knight con-
tinued. " I wish to ask terms for the garrison."

" You must surrender unconditionally," the count
replied from the court-yard. " In ten minutes we shall
liave completely pierced your walls, and you will be at
our mercy."

" You may pierce our walls," Walter replied, " but it
will cost you many lives before you force your way in;
we will defend the hold from floor to floor, and you
know liow desperate men can fight. It will cost you
scores of lives before you win your way to the summit
of this keep; but if I have your knighth'' word that the
lives of all within these walls shall be spared, then will
I open the doors and lay down our arms."

l, I !

^^iii

* m

2J4

StRKFADKFl,

', li

A consultation took place betwoon the loaders b;l()w.
Th' re was truth hi Walter's words that very uuiny
lives would be sacriliced before the resistance of so
gallant a garrison Cv.uld be overcome. Every minute
was of importance, for it was possible that at any
moment aid might arrive froui Calais, and that the
table would be turned upon the besiegers. Therefore,
after a short parley among themselves, the count re-
plied:

" You have fought as a gallant kniijht and gentleman,
Sir Walter Somers, a.nd have wrought grievous harm
up'"n my leading. I should grieve that so brave a
khiLjht should lose his life in a useless resistance.
Therefore I agree to your terms, and swear upon my
knightly honour that upon your surrendering your-
selves prisoners of war, the lives of ail within these
walls shall be spared."

Walter at once gave the order. The stones were
removed and the door thrown open, and leading his
men Walter descended the steps into the court-yard,
which was now illununated with torches, and handeil
his sword to the Count of Evreux.

" \ou promised me, count," a tall knight standing hy
his side, said, " that if he v\ ere taken alive, the com
mander of this castle should be my prisoner."

" I did so, Sir Phillip liolbeaut. When you proposed
this adventure to me, and oilered to place your followin;'
at my command, I agreed to the request you made nie;
but mind," he said sternly, "my knightly word has
been given for his safety. See that he receives fair iind
gentle treatment at your hand. I would not that
aught should befall so brave a knight."

" I seek him no harm," the knight said angrily; "but |
I know that he is one of the kniiihts of the Black I

le leaders b'low.
ihat very luiuiy
resistance of so
Kvery minute
ble that at any
lis, and that the
ners. Therei'ore,
res, the count re-

ht and gentleman.
lit grievous harm
, that so brave a
useless resistance,
nl swear upon my
urrendering your-
£ ail within these

The stones were
n, and leading \m
ito the court-yanl,
)rches, and handed

might standing by
en alive, the coin-
prisoner."
,Vhen you proposed
)lace your followin;^
luest you made me;
vnightly word has
he receives fair and
I would not that

'ht."

t said angrily; "hut I

SIR PHILLIP IIOLBEAUT.

2i5

.lil

hts of the Black

Prince's own suite, and that his ransom will he freely
paid, and as my coffers are low from the expenses of
the war, I would fain replenish them at the expense
of the Engli.sh prince."'

" 1 said not that I doubted you, Sir Phillip," the count
said cahnly ; "but as the knight suriendered on my word,
it was needful that I should Avarn you to treat liim as
1 myself should do did he remain in my hand.s, and to
give h'v.n fair treatment until duly ransomed."

"I should be glad, count," Walter said, "if you will
sud'er me to take with me as com.panion in my cap-
tivity this niLn-at-arms. He is stronolv attached to
luc, and we hav'^ gone through many perils together;
it v'ill lighten my captivity to have him by my side,"

"Surely I will do so, Sir Walter, and wi.sh that your
boon had been a larger one. The rest I will take back
with me to Amiens, there to hold until exchanged for
some of those who at various times have lallcn into
your king's hands. And now to work, men; lose not a
iiionient in stripping the ca.stle of all that you choose
to carry away, then apply fire to the storehou.ses, grana
lies, and the hold itself. I would not that it remained
standing to serve as an outpost for the English."

The horses were brouGjht from the stables. Walter
and Ralph took their horses by the bridle, and followed
Sir Phillip Holbeaut through the now open gates of
tlie castle to the spot where the liorses cf the besiegers
were picketed. The knight and his own men-at-arm.s,
who had ai the beginning of the day numbered a hun-
dred and fifty, but who were now scarcely two-thirds
of tliat strength, at once mounted with their ])i-isoners,
[and rode off from the castle. A few minutes later
I a nhire of light burst out from behind them. The

aunt's orders had been oi)cyed; fire had been applied

,"■ 'i

k I :i

Itl:

246

A CRUEL KNIGHT.

to the stores of foras'e, and soon the castle of Pres was
wrapped in flames.

" I like not our captor's manner," Ralph said to
Walter as they rode along side by side.

" I agree with you, Ralph, I believe that the reason
which he gave the count for his request was not a true
one, though, indeed, I can see no other motive which he
could have for seeking to gain possession of me. Sir
Phillip, although a valiant knight, bears but an indif-
ferent reputation. I have heard that he is a cruel mas-
ter to his serfs, and that when away fighting in Ger-
many he behaved so cruelly to the peasantry that even
the Germans, who are not nice in their modes of war-
fare, cried out against him. It is an evil fortune that has
thrown us into his hands; still, although grasping and
avaricious, he can hardly demand for a simple knight
any inordinate ransom. The French themselves would
cry out did he do so, seeing that so large a number of
their own knights are in our hands, and that the king
has ample powers of retaliation; however, we need not
look on the dark side. It is not likely that our cap-
tivity will be a long one, for the prince, who is the soul
of generosity, will not haggle over terms, but will pay
my ransom as soon as he bears into whose hands I have
fallen, while there are scores of men-at-arms prisoneis,
w^hom he can exchange for you. Doubtless Sir Phillip
will send you over as soon as he arrives at his castle
with one of his own followers, to treit for my ransom "

After riding for some hours the troop halted their
weary horses in a wood, and lighting fires, cooked their
food, and then lay down until morning. Sir Phillip
exchanged but few words with his captive; as, having
removed his helm, he sat by the fire, Walter had an
opportunity of seeing his countenance. It did not belie

sastle of Pres was

Kalph said to
e.

e that the reason

st was not a true

motive which he

ssion of me. Sir

ars but an intlii-

he is a cruel mas-

Y fighting in Ger-

asantry that even

eir modes of war-

n\ fortune that has

(Ugh grasping and

)r a simple knight

themselves would

large a number of

and that the king

vever, we need not

kely that our cap-

ice, who is the soul

erms, but will pay

'hose hands I have

-at-arms prisoners,

•ubtless Sir Phillip

•rives at his castle

it for my ransom,"

^roop halted their

fires, cooked their

■ning. Sir Phillip

:aptive; as, having

re, Walter had an

e. It did not belie

'Nii

i»

;ii'. ji

A DUNGEON.

247

liis reputation. His face had a heavy and brutal ex-
pression which was not decreased by tlie fashion of his
hair, which was cut qi ite short, and stood up without
parting all over his bullet-shaped head; he had a heavy
and bristling moustache which was cut short in a line
with his lips.

" It is well," Walter thought to himself, "that it is my
ransom rather than my life which is dear to that evil-
looking knight; for, assuredly, he is not one to hesitate
did fortune throw a foe into his hands."

At daybreak the march was resuuied, and w^as con-
tinued until they reached the castle of Sir Phillip Hol-
beaut, which stood on a narro tongue of land formed
by a sharp bend of the Somme.

On entering the castle the knight gave an order to
his followers, and the prisoners were at once led to a
narrow cell beneath one of the towers. Walter looked
round indignantly when he arrived there.

" This is a dungeon for a felon," he exclaimed, " not
the apartment for a knight who has been taken captive
in fair fight. Tell your master that he is bound to award
me honourable treatment, and that unless he removes
me instantly from this dungeon to a proper apartment,
and treats me with all due respect and courtesy, I will,
when I regain my liberty, proclaim him a dishonoured
knight."

The men-at-arms made no reply; but, locking the
door behind them, left the prisoners alone.

"What can this mean, Ralph?" Walter exclaimed.
"We are in the lowest dungeon, and below the level of
the river. See how damp are the walls, and the floor
is thick with slimy mud. The river must run but just
below that loopliole, and in times of flood probably
enters here."

i„ fj!

248

TWO VILLAINS.

Phillip of Holbeaut, on dismounting, ascended to an
upper chamber, where a man in the dress of a well-to-do
citizen was sitting.

" Well, Sir Phillip," he exclaimed, rising to his feet
as the other entered, "what news ?"

" The news is bad," the knight growled. "This famous
scheme of yours has cost me fifty of my best men. I
would I had had nothing to do with it.''

" But this Walter Somers," the other exclaimed,
"what of him ? He has not escaped surely! The force
which marched from Amiens was large enough to have
eaten him and his garrison."

" He has not escaped," the knight replied.

"Then he is killed!" the other said eagerly.

" No; nor is he killed. He is at present a prisoner in
a dungeon below, together with a stout knave whom
he begged might accompany him until ransomed."

"All is well then," the other exclaimed. "Never
mind the loss of your men. The money which I have
promised you for this business will hire you two hun-
died such knaves; but why didst not knock him on
head at once?"

" It was not so easy to knock him on the head," Sir
Phillip growled. " It cost us five hundred men to
capture the outer walls, and to have fought our way
into the keep, held as it was, by men who would hftve
contested every foot of the ground, was not a job for
which any of us had much stomach, seeing what the
first assaults had cost us; sc the count took them all to
quarter. The rest he carried with him to Amiens; but
their leader, according to the promise which he made
me, he handed over to me as my share of the day's
booty, giving me every clwv.^e that he should receive
good and knightly treutim;ut."

nff to his feet

A CONSPIRACY.

249

" Which, no doubt, you will observe," the other said,
with an ugly laugh.

" It is a bad business," the knight exclaimed angi-ily, •
"and were it not I'or our friendship in Spain, and the
ineniory of sundry deeds which we did together, not
without profit to our purses, I would rather that you
were thrown over the battlements into the river than I
had taken a step in this business. However, none can
say that Phillip of Holbc aut ever deserted a friend who
had proved true to hiui, not to mention that the sum
which you promised me for my aid in this matter will,
at the present time, prove wondrously convenient. Yet
I foresee that it will bring me into trouble with the
Count of Evreux. Ere many days a demand will come
i'or the fellow to be delivered on ransom."

"And what will you say?" the other asked.

" I shall say what is the truth," the knight replied,
" though I may add something that is not wholly so.
I shall say tliat he was drowned in the Somme. I shall
add that it happened as he was trying to make his
escape, contrary to the parole he had given; but in truth
he will be drowned in the dungeon in which I have
placed him, which has rid me of many a troublesome
prisoner before now. The river is at ordinary times but
two feet below the loophole; and when its tide is swelled
by rain it often rises above the sill, and then there is
an end of any one within. They can doubt my word;
but there are not many who would care to do so openly;
none who would do so for the sake of an unknown
English knight. And as for any complaints on the part
of the Elack Prince, King Phillip has shown over and
over again how little the complaints of Edward himself
move him."

" It were almost better to knock him on head at once/*

11 :

' I

! I

250

CERTAIN DEATH.

•|l

'■ ■

l.(

7r^

the other said thoughtfully; "the fe'bv has as many
lives . . a cr.t."

" If he had as many as nine < ais," the knight replied,
"it would not avail him. I ut ;' s' HI !;;?ve no violence.
The water will do your work as well as . ; oinard, and
I will not have it said, even among such iTuffians as
mine, that I slew a captured knight. The other will
pass as an accident, and I care not what my men may
think as long as they can say nothing for a surety.
The count may storm as much as he will, and may
even lay a complaint against me before the king; but
in times like the present, even a simple knight who
can lead two hundred good fighting men into the
field is not to be despised, and the king is likely to
be easily satisfied with my replies to any question that
may be raised. Indeed, it would seem contrary to
reason that I should slay a captive against whom I
have no cause of quarrel, and so forfeit the rausom
which I should gut for him."

"But suppose that a messenger should come oflfering
ransom before the riv^er happens to rise?"

" Then I shall anticipate matters, and shall say that
what I know will happen has already taken place. Do
not be uneasy. Sir James. You have my word in the
matter, and now I have gone so far I shall carry it
through. From the moment when I ordered him into
that dungeon his fate was sealed, and in truth, when
I gave the order I did so to put an end to the inde-
cision in which my mind had been all night. Once in
there he could not be allowed to come out alive, for
his report of such treatment would do me more harm
among those of my own station in France than any
rumours touching his end could do. It is no un-
common afiair for one to remove an enemy from one's

«i; III i

AN OUfSl CLE 1 J THE PATH.

251

tas as many

some offering

path ; but cruelty to a knif'htly p. Isoner would be re-
{,'ar(led with horror. Would you like to have a look
lit him ?"

The other hesitated. "No," he replied. " Again.st him
personally I liave no great grudge. He has thwarted
niy plans, and stands now grievously in tlui way of
my making fresh ones; but as he diil so from no ill-will
towards myself, but as it were by hazard, I have no
pei'sonal hatred towards him, though I would fain
roinove him from my path. Besides, I tell you fairly,
that even in that dunijeon where you have thrown
him I shall not feel diat he is safe until you send me
word that he is dead. He has twice already got out
of scrapes when other men would have been killed.
Both at Vannes and at Ghent he escaped in a marvel-
lous way ; and but a few weeks since, by the accident
of his having a coat of mail under his doublet he
saved his life from as fair a blow as ever was struck.
Therefore I would not that he knew aught of my
luiving a hand in this matter, for if after having seen
ine he made his escape I could never show my face in
England again. I should advise you to bid three or
four men always enter his cell together, for he and
that man of arms who follows him like a shadow are
ca])able of playing any desperate trick to escape."

" That matter is easil}'^ enough managed," Sir Phillip
said gi'imly, " by no one entering the dungeon at all.
The river may be slow of rising, though in sooth the
sky looks overcast now, and ^t lo already at its usual
winter level ; and whether ne dies from lack of water
or from a too abundant supply matters but little to
1110 ; only, as I told you I will give no orders for him
to be killed. Dost remember that Jew we carried off
from Seville and kept without water until he agreed

:!. . \'i

! I,

I : t

i !

2r)2

TRAITOUS UOTIl.

to ]>ay us a ransom which iimde us both rich for six
montlis? Tliat was a rare haul, and I would that rich
Jews were plentiful in this country."

"Yes, those were f;ood times," the other said, "although
I own tliat I have not done badly since the war begun,
having taken a count and three knights prisoners, and
put them to ransom, and having reaped a gootlly
share of plunder from your French burghers, else
indeed I could not have oU'ered you so rouJid a sum to
settle this little matter for mo. There are not many
French knights who have earned a count's ransom in
the present war. And now I will take horse; here is
one half of the sum I jjromised you, in gold nobles.
1 will send you the remainder on the day when I get
news from you that the matter is linished."

"Have your money ready in a week's time," the
knight replied, taking the bag of gold which the other
])laced on the table, "for by that time you will hear
from me. 1 hope this will not be the last business
wdiich we may do together; there ought to be plenty
of good chances in a war like this. Any time that you
can send me word of an intended foray by a small
party under a commander whose ransom would be a
high one 1 will share what I get with you; and simi-
larly I will let you know of any rich prize who may be
pounced upon on the same terms."

"Agreed!" the other said. "We may do a good busi-
ncss together in that way. But you lie too far away.
If you move up as near as you can to Calais and let
me know your whereabouts, so that I could send or ride
to you in a few hovu's, we might work together with
no small prolit."

"I will take the field as soon as this afFair of yours
is stjittled," the knight replied; "and the messenger who

WALTER'S CONCI.l'SIONS.

2.'JS

hrin!;s you the news siinll toll you wliero I may be
I'oinul. And now, whilu your horse is Ixjing j^ot vi^july;
let us drink a stoup of wine top;othi'r in iiioniory of
old times, though, fur myself, these winoa of ours are
I)oor and insipid beside the liery juice of Spain."

While this conversation, upon which thuir fate so
iiiUL-h depended, had been jjoing on, Walter and llalph
had been discussing the situation, and had arrived at a
tolerably correct conclusion.

"This conduct on the part of this brutal French
knight, Ralph, is so strange that methinks it cannot be
the mere outcome of his passions or of hate against me
as an Englishman, but of some deoper motive; and
we were right in thinking that in bargaining for my
person with the Count of Evreux it was more than my
ransom which he sought. Had that been his only
object he would never have thrown us into this
noisome dungeon, for my report of such treatment
would bring dishonour upon him in the ej'es of every
knight and noble in France as well as in England. It
must be my life he aims at, although what grudge
he can have against me it passes me to imagine. It
may be that at Cressy or elsewhere some dear rela-
tive of his may have fallen by my sword; and yet were
it so, men nourish no grudge for the death of those
killed in fair fight. But this boots not at present. It is
enough for us that it is my life which he aims at, and
1 fear, Ralph, that yours must be included with mine,
since he would never let a witness escape to carry the
foul tale against him. This being so, the agreement
on which I surrendered is broken, and I am free to
make my escape if I can, and methinks the sooner that
be attempted the better. So let us to work to plan how
we may best get out of this place. After our escape

l^ 1

254

THE WAY OF KSCAl'E.

from tlitit \V(ill at VuntioH wo nood not doHpair about
breaking out ''« u this (Inii^'con of Holhcaut."

" \Vu nii^Iit ov(>ri)(j\VL'r tho <^uai'd who brings om-
food," Ralph saiil.

"Thoro is that chancer," Walter rejoined, "but [
think it \h a poor one. Tliey may be Nuro that tliis
dishonourabh! treatment will have rendered uh des-
perate, and they will take cxery preeaution and conic
well armed. It may be, too, that (hey will not eoiiic
at all, but that they intend uh to die ol' ^starvation, or
])crehance to be (Unowned by the iloods, whieh it is
easy to see often make their way in here. No, om*
eseap;', if escape there be, must be made through that
loophole above. Were that l»ar removed, methinks it
is wide enough for us to s(iueeze through. Doubt-
loss such a hazard has not occurred to them, seeing
that it is nigh twelve feet above the iioor, and that a.
single man could by no possibility reach it, but with
two of us there is no dilficulty. Now, Ralph, do you
stand atjjainst the wall. 1 will climb upon voui*
shoulders, and standing there can reach the bar, and
so haul myself up and look out."

This was soon done, and Walter seizing tho bar,
hauled himself up so that he could see through the
loophole.

" It is as I thought," he said. " The waters of the
Sonnne are but a foot below the level of this window ;
the river is yellow and swollen, and a few hours' heavy
rain would bring it above the level of this sill. Stand
steady, Ralph, I am coming down again."

When he reached the ground, he said :

" Take off' your belt, Ralph ; if we buckle that and
mine together, passing it round the bar, it will make a
loop upon which we can stand at the window and see

' i

TlIK LOOI'IIOLE.

how bpst wo can loosen the bar. Constantly wot as It
is, it is likely tliut the inurtar will have softened, in
which case we shall have little (iilliculty in working
it out."

The plan was at once put into execution; the belts
were t'asteneil to^'ctherand Walter standinij on Ralph's
shoulders passed one end around the bar and buckled
it to the other, thus inakini^ a loop some three feet in
lun;;th; [luttinj^ a foot in this he was able to stand
easily at the loophole.

"It is put in with nioi-tar at the top, "Ralph, and the
Hiortar has rotted with the wet, but at the bottom lead
was poured in when the bar was set and this must be
scooped out Itefore it can be movi'd. Fortunately
the kni_L;ht j;ave no orders to his men to remove our
daggers when wc were thrust in here, and these will
speedily dig out the lead; but I must come down first,
for the strap prevents my working at the foot of the
bar. We must tear oU' a strip of our clothing and make
a shift to fasten the strap half-way up the bur so as
not to slip down with our weight."

In order to accomplish this Walter bad to stand
upon Ralph's head to gain additional height. He pre-
sently, after several attempts, succeeded in fixing the
strap firmly against the bar half-way up, and then
placing one knee in the loop and i itting an arm
through the bar to steady himself, he set to work
at the lead. The sharp ]^oint of the daj.'\^er quickly
cut out that near the surface, but farther down the
hole narrowed and the task wjis nmch more dilH-
cult. Several times Ralph relieved hiin at the work,
but at last it was accomplished, and the bar was found
to move slightly when they shook it. There now re-
piained only to loosen the cement above, and this was a

I' I

If;'

1, !■

256

THE r.AIl.

comparatively easy task; it crniiiMod quickly before
the points ot' their dagi^'ei's, and the bar was soon free
to move.

"Now," Walter said, "we have to find out whether
the bar was first put in from below or from above; one
hole or the other must be a good deal deeper than
the iron, so tliat it was either shoved up or pushed
down until the other end could get under or over tlie
other hole I should think most likely the hole is
below, as if they held up the bar against the top, when
the lead was poured in it would I'll up the space; so we
will first of all try to lift it. I must stand on your
head again to enable me to be high enough to try
this."

" My head is strong enough, I warrant," Ralph re-
plied, " but I will fold up my jerkin, and put on it,
for in truth you hurt me somewhat when you were
tying the strap to the bar."

All Walter's efforts did not succeed in raising tho
bar in the slightest, and he therefore concluded that
it had been inserted here and lifted while the space
was filled with lead. "It is best so," he said; "we
should have to cut away the stone either above or
below, and can woi-k much better below Eow I will
put my knee in the strap again and set to work. The
stone seems greatly softened by the wet, and will
yield to our daggers readijy enough It is already
getting dark, and as soon as we have finishcvl we can
start."'

As Walter had discovered, the stone was rotten with
the action of the weather, and although as they got
deeper it became much harder, it j'ielded to the con-
stant chipping with their daggers, and in two hours
Ralph, who at the moment happened to be engaged,

THE WORK COMPLETED.

257

announced to Walter that his dagger found its way
under the bottom of the bar. The groove was sr/^n
made deep enough for the bar to be moved out; but
another hour's work was necessary, somewhat further
to enlarge the upper hole, so as to allow the bar to
have sufficient play. Fortunately it was only inserted
iibout an inch and a half in the stone, and the amount
to be cut away to give it sufficient play was therefore
not large. Then at last all was ready for their flight.

'"'''^Af^''

cm)

■ Hi

ill"

i:Ji

CHAPTER XVIL

THE CAPTURE OF CALAIS.

HEN the bar was once ready for removal the
captives delayed not a minute, for although
it was now so late that there was littlechance
of a visit being paid them, it was just possible
that such ii;ioht be the case, and that it
might occur to the kni<^;ht that it would be safer to
separate them.

" Now, Ralph, do you go first, since I am lighter and
can climb up by means of the strap, which you can
hold from above; push the bar out and lay it down
quietly in the thickness of the wall. A splash might
attract the attention of the sentries, though I doubt
whether it would, for the wind is high and the rain
falling fast. Unbuckle the strap before you move the
bar, as otherwise it might fall and I should have dilii-
culty in handing it to you again. Now, I am steady
against the wall."

Ralph seized the bar and with a great effort pushed
the bottom from him. It moved through the groo\e
without much difficulty, but it needed a great wrench
to free the upper end. However, it was done, and laying
it quietly down he pulled himself up and thrust him-
self through the loophole. It was a desperate struggle

IN THE KIVER.

259

to get throufvli, for it was only just wide enough for
his head to pass, and he was so sfjuarely built that hia
body with ditKculty followed. The wall was four feet
wide, and as the loophole widened considerably with-
out, there was, when he had once passed through from
the inside, space enough for him to kneel down and
lower one end of the strap to Walter. The latter
speedily climbed up, and getting through the slit with
much less trouble than lialph had experienced — for
although in heiijht and width of shoulder he was his
e(|ual, he was less in depth than his follower — he joined
him in the opening; Ralph sitting with his feet in the
water in order to make room for him.

The dungeon was upon the western side of the
castle, and consequently the stream would be with them
in making for shore. It was pitch dark, but they knew
that the distance they would have to swim could not
exceed forty or fifty yards.

" Keep along close by the wall, Ralph. If we once
get out in the stream we might lose our way; we will
skirt the wall until it ends, then there is a cut, for as
you saw when we entered, tlie moat runs right across
this neck. If we keep a bit farther down and then
land, we shall be fairly beyond the outworks."

Ralph slipped down into the water, and followed by
Walter swam along at the foot of the wall. They had
already been deprived of their armour, but had luckily
contrived to retain their dairfjers in their belts, which
they had a^fain "'irdled on before entering the water.
The stream hurried them rapidly along, and they had
only to keep themselves alloat. They were soon at the
coi'iior of the castle. A few strokes farther and they
again felt the wall which lined the moat. The stream
still swept them along, they felt the masonry come to an

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260

ESCAPED.

end, and bushes and shiubs lined tlie bank. They weie
beyond the outer defences of the castle. Still a little
farther they proceeded down the stream in order to
prevent the possibility of any noise they might make
in scrambling up being lieard by the sentinels on the
outer postern. Then when they felt quite safe they
grasped the bushes, and speedily climbed the bank.
Looking back at the castle they saw lights still burning
there. Short as was the time they had been in the
water they were both chilled to the bone, for it was the
month of February, and the water was bitterly cold.

" ]t cannot be more than nine o'clock now," Walter
said, " for it is not more than four hours since darkness
fell. They are not likely to visit the dungeon before
eight or nine to-morrow, so we can rely upun twelve
hours' start, and if we make the best of our time we
ought to be far on our way by then, though in truth
it is not fast travelling on a night like this through
a strange country. I would that the stars were shining.
However, the direction of the wind and rain will be
a guide to as, and we shall soon strike the road we
travelled yesterday, and can follow that till morning."

They were not long before they found the track, and
then started at a brisk pace along it. All night they
struijorled on through wind and rain until the first
dawn enabled them to see the objects in the sur.-ound-
ing country; and making for the forest which exi ended
to within a mile of the road, they entered deep ir to its
sheltcv and there, utterly exhausted, t re:'' tlicmselves
down 01. l-)c wot ground. Afterafevi hours of unea.sy
sleep they woue, ana taking their place near the edge
v;atch(d for the pr.ssage of any party
hn m p'lrsuic.

of the I'orv;.--!
whi;'h Arii>>ht
came vionj,.

but until nightfall none

I !

JOURNEY TO CALAIS.

261

i: I ■ :• !

" They have not discovered our flight," Ralph said
at laot, "or they would have ppssed long before this.
Sir Phillip doubtless imagines that we are drowned.
The water was withiii a tew inehea of the sill when
we started, and must soon have flooded the dungeon;
and did he trouble to look in the morning, which is
unlikely enough seeing that he would be sure of our
fate, he would be unable to descend the stairs, and could
not reach to the door, and so discover that the bar had
been removed. No; whatever his motive may have
been in compassing my death, he is doubtless satisfied
that he has attained it, and we need have no further
fear of pursuit from him. The rain has ceased, and I
think that ii will be a fine night; we will walk on, and
if we come across a barn will make free to enter it,
and stripping ofl' our clothing to dry, will sleep in the
hay, and pursue our journey in the morning. From
our travel-stained appearance any who may meet u.s
will take us for two wavfarers goin" to take service in
the army at Amiens."

It was not until nearly midnight that thej came
upon such a place as they sought, then after passing a
little village they found a shed standing apart. Enter-
ing it they found that it was tenanted by two cows,
(jroping about they presently came upon a heap of
forage, and taking off their outer garments lay down
on this, covering themselves thickly with it. The
shed was warm and comfortable and they were soon
asleep, and awaking at daybreak they found that their
clothes had dried somewhat. The sun was not yet
up when they started, but it soon rose, and ere noon
their garments had dried, and they felt for the first
time comfortable. They met but few people on the road,
and these passed them with the ordinary salutations.

262

WELCOMED BACK.

They had by this tim;^ left Amiens on the right, and
by nightfall were well on their way towards Calais.
Early in the morning they had purchased some bread
at a village through which they passed; Walter's Nor-
man-French being easily understood, and exciting no
surprise or suspicion. At nightfall they slept in a
shed within a mile of the ruins of the castle of Prcs,
and late next evening entered the English encamp-
ment at New Town. After going to his tent, whero
he and Ralph changed their garments and partook
of a hearty meal, Walter proceeded to the pavilion of
the prince, who hailed his entrance with the greatest
surprise.

"Why, Sir Walter," he exclaimed, "what good saint
has brought you here? I have but an hour since
received a message from the Count of Evreux to the
efi'ect that you were a prisoner in the hands of Sir
Phillip de Holbeaut, with whom I must treat for your
ransom. I was purporting to send off a herald to-
morrow to ask at what sum he held you; and now you
appear in flesh and blood before us! But first, before
you tell us your story, I must congratulate you on
your gallant defence of the Castle of Pres, which is
accounted by all as one of the most valiant deeds of the
war. When two days i)assed without a messenger from
you coming hither, 1 feared that you were beleaguered,
and started that evening with six hundred men-at-arms.
We arrived at daybreak to find only a smoking ruin.
Luckily among the crowd of dead upon the breach we
found one of your men at-arms who still breathed,
and after some cordial had been given him, and his
wounds staunched, he was able to tell us the story of
the siege. But it needed not liis tale to tell us how
staunchly you had defended the castle, for the h'ln-

THE prince's doings.

263

the right, and
)wards Calais,
ed some breail
Walter's I<ov-
id exciting no
hey slept in a
castle oi Pres,
lo-lish encavup-
his tent, whero
is and partook
the pavilion of
.th the greatest

what good saint
■ an hour since
i Evreux to the
he hands of Su
st treat for your
otf a herald to-
)u; and now you
But first, before

j-Tatulate you on

li Pres, which is

iantdeedsof the

a messenger from
were beleaguered,
dred men-at-arms,
y a smoking ruin.
)on the breach we
ho still breathed,
ven him, and hw
all us the story ot
ale to tell us hoxv
tstle, for the hun-

dreds of dead who lay outside of the walls, and still
more the mass who piled the breach, and the many
who lay in the castle-yard spoke for themselves of the
valour with which the castle had been defended. As
the keep was gutted by tire, and the man could tell us
nought of what had happened after he had been
stricken down at the breach, we knew not wdiether
you and your brave garrison had perished in the
flames. We saw the penthouse beneath which they
had laboured to cut through the wall, but the work
had ceased before the holes were large enough for
entry, and we hoped that you might have seen that
further resistance was in vain, and have made terms
for your lives; indeed we heard from the country people
that certain prisoners had been taken to Amiens. I
rested one day at Pres, and the next rode back here, and
forthwith despatched a herald to the Count of Evreux
at Amiens asking for news of the garrison; but now he
has returned with word that twenty-four men-at-arms
and fifty- eight archers are prisoners in the count's
hands, and that he is ready to exchange them against
an equal number of French prisoneis; but that you,
with a man-at-arms, were in the keeping of Sir Phillip
of Holbeaut, with whom I must treat for your i-ansom.
And now tell me how it is that I see you here. Has your
captor, confiding in your knightly word to send him
the sum agreed upon, allowed you to return ? Tell n»e
the sum and my treasurer shall to-morrow pay it over
to a herald, who shall carry it to Holbeaut."

" Thanks, your Royal Highness, for your generosity,"
Walter replied, " but there is no ransom to be paid."

And he then proceeded to narrate the incidents of his
captivity at Holbeaut and his escape from the castle.
His narration was frequently interrupted by exclama-

i :

264

INDIGNATION OF THE PRINCE.

I 'J'

•■ 1

J I

tions of surprise and indignation from the prince and
the knights present.

" Well, this well-nigh passes all belief," the princo
exclaimed when he had concluded. " It is an outrai;t'
upon all laws of chivalry and honour. What could
have induced this caititt" knight, instead of treating you
with courtesy and honour until your ransom arrived,
to lodge you in a foul dungeon, where, had you lujt
made your escape, your death would have been brought
about that very night hj the rising water? Could it
be, think you, that his brain is destraught by some loss
or inj'try which may have befallen him at our hands
during tho war an I worked him up to a blind passion
of hatred against all Englishmen?"

" I think not that, your Royal Highness," Walter
replied. "His manner was cool and deliberate, and
altogether free Iwciu any signs of madiiess. ^lore-
over, it would see'a that he had specially marked lue
down beforehand, since, as I have told you, he hud
bargained with the Count of Evreux ft.r the possessiuji
of my person should I escape with life at the ca])ture
of the castle. It seems rather as if he must have hud
some private enm ty against me, although what the
cause may be I cannot imagine, seeing that I ha\e
never, to my knowledge, before met him, and ha\(i
only heard his name by conniion report."

" Whatever be the cause," the prince said, "we wiil
have satisfaction for it, and I will beg the king, my
lather, to write at once to Phillip of Valois protestiu-'
against the treatment that you have received, and
denouncing Sir Phillip of Holbeaut as a base and dis-
honoured knight, whom, should he fall into our hands,
we will commit at once to the hangman."

Upon the following day Walter was called before

SIR nilLUP'S ACCUSATION.

2G5

the king, and related to him in full the incidents of
tlio siege and of his captivity and escape; and the same
day King Edward sent off a letter to I'hillip of Valois
denouncing Sir rhillip Holbeaut as a dishonoured
knight, and threatening retaliation upon the French
prisoners in liis hands.

A fortnight later an answer was received from the
King of France saying that he had inquired into the
matter, and had sent a seneschal, who had questioned
Sir Phillip Holbeaut and some of the men-at-arms in
the castle, and that he found that King Edward had
been grossly imposed upon by a fictitious tale. Sir
Walter Somers had, he found, been treated with all
knightly courtesy, and believing him to be an honour-
able knight and true to his word, but slight watch had
been kept over him. He had basely taken advantage
of this trust, and with the man-at-arms with him had
escaped from the castle in order to avoid payment of
his ransom, and had now invented these gross and
wicked charges against Sir Phillip Holbeaut as a cloak
to his own dishonour.

Walter was furious when he heard the contents of
this letter, and the king and Black Prince were no
less indignant. Although they doubted him not for a
iiioiuent, Walter begged that Ralph might be brought
'"■lore them and examined strictly as to what had
uikeii place, in order that they might see that his state-
luuiits tallied exactly with those he had made.

Whun this had been done Walter obtained permis-
sion from the king to despatch a cartel to Sir Phillip
de Holbeaut denouncing him as a perjured and dis-
honoured kniu'ht and challen('in(j: him to meet him in
Mioital conflict at any time and place that he might
uauie. At the same time the king despatched a letter

2oe

CALAIS STILL BESIEGED.

to Phillip of Valois saying that the statements of tlie
French knijj^ht and his followers were vvliuUy untriiu,
and begging- tliat a time might be appointed for the
meeting of the two knights in the lists.

To this King Phillip replied that he had ordered all
private quarrels in France to be laid asi<lo during tliu
progress of the war, and that so long as an PJnglisl)
loot remained upon French soil he would give nu
countenance to his knights throwing away the Uves
which they owed to France, in private broils.

" You must wait, ISir Walter, you see," the kliij;
said, "until you may perchance meet him in the ticM
of battle. Jn the meantime, to show how liglitly I
esteem the foul charge brought against you, and liow
much I hold and honour the bravery which you
showed in defending the castle which my son tlie
prince intrusted to you, as well as upon other occa-
sions, I hereby promote you to the rank of kniL;lit-
banncret,"

Events now passed slowly before Calais. Queen
Philippa and many of her ladies crossed the Chamirl
and Joined her husband, and these added much to tlie
gaiety of the life in camp. The garrison at Cukis
was, it wjis known, in the sorest straits for the want
ol" food, and at last the news came that the King of
France, with a huge army of 200,000 men, was moviiip;
to its relief. They had gathered at Hesdin, at whicli
rendezvous the king had arrived in the early part of
April; but it was not until the 27th of July that the
whole army w;is collected, and maiching by slow steps
advanced towai'ds the English position.

King Edward had taken every precaution to guard
all the approaches to the city. The ground was in
most places too soft and sandy to admit of the con-

A RELIEVING ARMY.

2G7

5 would give no

struction of defensive works; but the fleet was drawn
up close inslioru to cover the line of sand-hills by the
sea with arrows and war machines, while tlie passages
of the marshes, which extended for a considerable dis-
tance round the town, were guarded by the Earl of
Liincaster and a body of chosen troops, while the other
approaches to the city were covered by the English
camp.

I'he French reconnoitring parties found no way open
to attack the English unless under grievous disadvan-
tages. The Cardinals of Tusculum, St. John, and St.
Paul endeavoured to negotiate terms of peace, and com-
missioners on both sides met. The terms ofl'ered by
Phillip were, however, by no means so favourable as
Edward, after his own victorious operations and those
of his armies in Brittany and Guienne, had a right to
expect, and the negotiations were broken off.

Tlie following day the French king sent in a message
to Edward saying that he had examineii the ground in
every direction in order to advance and give battle, but
had found no means of doing so. He therefore sum-
iiioiied the king to come forth from the marshy ground
in which he was encamped and to tight in the open
I)lain; and he ofl'eied to send four French knights, who,
with four Eniilish of the same rank, should choose a fair
phiin in the neighbourhood, according to the u.sages of
chivalry. Edward had little over 80,000 men with
him; but the same evening that Phillip's challenge
was received a body of 17,000 Flemings and English,
detached from an army which had been doing good
service on the l)orders of Flanders, succeeded in passing
round the enemy's host and in efi'ecting a junction
with the king's army. Eai^ly the next morning, after
having consulted with his ofiicers, Edward returned an

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THE FRENCH RETREAT.

answer to the French king, saying that he agreed to
his proposal, and inclosed a safe-conduct for any four
French knights who might be appointed to arrange
with the same number of English the place of battle.

The odds were indeed enormous, the French beincr
four to one; but Edward, after the success of Cressy,
which had been won by the Black Prince's division,
which bore a still smaller proportion to the force
engaging it, might well feel confident in the valour of
his troops. His envoys, on arriving at the French
camp, found that Phillip had apparently changed his
mind. He declined to discuss the matter with which
they were charged, and spoke only of the terms upon
which Edward would be willing to raise the sieice of
Calais. As they had no authority on this subject the
English knights returned to their camp, where the
news was received with great disappointment, so con-
fident did all feel in their power to defeat the huge
host of the French. But even greater was the aston-
ishment the next morning, when, before daylight, the
tents of the French were seen in one great flame, and
it was found that the king and all his host were
retreating at full speed. The Earls of Lancaster and
Northampton, with a large body of horse, at once
started in pursuit, and harassed the retreating army
on its march towards Amiens.

No satisfactory reasons ever have been assigned for
this extraordinary step on the part of the French king.
He had been for months en<?a*j;ed in collecting a huye
army, and he had now an opportunity of fighting the
English in a fair field with a force four times as great
as their own. The only means indeed of accounting
for his conduct is by supposing him afl'ected by teni])0-
rary aberration of mind, which many other facts in

THE SURRENDER OF CALAIS.

2n9

his history render not improbable. The fits of rage so
frequently recorded of him border upon madness, and
a number of strange actions highly'' detrimental to his
own interests which he committed can only be ac-
counted for as the acts of a diseased mind. This \io\v
has been to some extent confirmed by the fact that less
than half a century afterwards insanity declared itself
among his descendants.

A few hours after the departure of the French the
French standard was lowered on the walls of Calais,
and news was brought to Edward that the governor
was upon the battlements and desired to speak with
some oflBcers of the besieging army. Sir Walter
Manny and Lord Bisset were sent to confer with
him, and found that his object was to obtain the best
terms he could. The English knights, knowing the
determination of the king on the subject, were forced
to tell him that no possibility existed of conditions

being granted, but that the

king

demanded their

unconditional surrender, reserving to himself entiiely
the right whom to pardon and whom to put to death.

The governor remonstrated on the severe terms, and
said that rather than submit to them he and his sol-
diers would sally out and die sword in hand. Sir
Walter Manny found the king inexorable. The strict
laws of war in those days justified the barbarous prac-
tice of putting to death the garrison of a town captured
under such circumstances. Calais had been for many
years a nest of pirates, and vessels issuing from its
port had been a scourge to the commerce of England
and Flanders, and the king was fully determined to
punish it severely. Sir Walter Manny interceded long
and boldly, and represented to the king that none of
his soldiers would willingly defend a town on his

IHi

I !i^:

1 ■■

!"(■

Blip .*j

i-mm ^im

I «

fi''

270

HARD TERMS.

belmlf from the day on which he put to death tlie
people of Calais, as beyond doubt the French would
retaliate in every succeeding siege. The other nobles
and knights joined their entreaties to those of 8ir
Walter Manny, and the king finally consented to yield
in some de<;ree. He demanded that six of the most
notable burghers of the town, with bare heads and
feet, and with ropes about their necks and the keys of
the fortress in their hands, should deliver themselves
up for execution. On these conditions he agreed to
spare the rest. With these terms Sir Walter Manny
returned to Sir John of Vienne.

The governor left the battlements, and proceeding
to the market-place ordered the bell to be rung. Tlie
famished and despairing citizens gathered a haggard
crowd to hear their doom. A silence followed the nar-
ration of the hard conditions of surrender by the go-
vernor, and sobs and cries alone broke the silence which
succeeded. Then Eustace St. Pierre, the wealthiest and
most distinguished of the citizens, came forward and
offered himself as one of the victims, saying, " Sad pity
and shame would it be to let all of our fellow-citizons
die of famine or the sword when means could be found
to save them." John of Aire, James and Peter De
Vissant, and another whose name has not come down
to us, followed his example, nnd stripping to their shirts
set out for the camp. Sir John of Vienne, who, from
a late wound, was unable to walk, riding at their head
on horseback. The whole population accompanied
them weeping bitterly until they came to the place
where Sir Walter Manny was awaiting them. Here
the crowd halted, and the knight, promising to do his
best to save them, led them to the tent where the king
bad assembled all his nobles around him. When the

TlIE KING OBDURATE.

271

tif^ings came that the burghers of Calais had arrived,
Edward issued oat with his retinue, accoinpanied by
Queen Philippa and the Black Prince.

" Behold, Sire," Sir Walter Manny said, " the repre-
sentatives of the town of Calais!"

The king made no reply while John of Vicnne sur-
rendered his sword, and kneeling with the burghers,
said, "Gentle lord and king; behold, we six who were
once the greatest citizens and merchants of Calais,
bring you the keys of the town and castle, and give
ourselves up to your pleasure, placing ourselves in the
state in which you see us by our own free-will to save
the rest of the people of the city, who hav^e already suf-
fered many ills. We pray you, therefore, to have pity
and mercy upon us for the sake of your high noble-
ness."

All present were greatly affected at this speech, and
at the aspect of men who thus offered their lives for
their fellow-citizens. The king's countenance alone
remained unchanged, and he ordered them to be taken
to instant execution. Then Sir Walter Manny and all
the nobles with tears besought the king to have mercy,
not only for the sake of the citizens, but for that of his
own fame, which would be tarnished by so cruel a deed.

"Silence, Sir Walter!" cried the king. "Let the
executioner be called. The men of Calais have put to
death so many of my subjects that I will also put these
men to death."

At this moment Queen Philippa, who had been weep-
ing bitterly, cast herself upon her knees before tb*^
king. " Oh, gentle lord," she cried, "since I have repassed
the seas to see you I have neither asked or required
anything at your hand; now, then, I pray you humbly,
and require as a boon, that for the sake of the Son of

:i!

;■!,•';

272

• ; *i

TIIE queen's intercession.

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Mary, and for love of me, you take these men to
mercy."

The king stood for a moment in silence, and then
said :

" Ah ! lady, I would that you had been otherwheie
than here; but you beg of me so earnestly I must not
refuse you, though I grant j'our prayer with pain.
I give them to you; take them, and do your will."

Then the queen rose from her knees, and bidding
the burghers rise, she caused clothing and food to be
given them, and sent them away free.

Sir Walter Manny, with a considerable body of men-
at-arms, now took possession of the town of Calais.
The anger of the king soon gave way to better feelings;
all the citizens, without exception, were fed by his
bounty. Such of them as preferred to depart instead of
swearing fealty to the English monarch were allowed
to carry away what effects they could bear upon their
persons, and were conducted in safety to the French
town of Guisnes. Eustace de St. Pierre was granted
almost all the possessions he had formerly held in
Calais, and also a considerable pension ; and he and all
who were willing to remain were well and kindly
treated. The number was large, for the natural in-
dignation which they felt at their base desertion by
the French king induced very many of the citizens to
remain and become subjects of Edward. The king-
issued a proclamation inviting English traders and
others to come across and take up their residence in
Calais, bestowing upon them the houses and lands of
the French who had left. Very many accepted the in-
vitation, and Calais henceforth and for some centuries
became virtually an English town.

A truce was now, through the exertions of the pope's

A TRUCE ARRANGED.

273

these men to
snee, and then

legates, made between England and France, the terms
agreed on being very similar to those of the previous
treaty; and when all his arrangements were finished
Edward returned with his queen to England, having
been absent eighteen months, during which time an
almost unbroken success had attended his arms, and
the English name had reached a position of respect and
honour in the eyes of Europe far beyond that at which
it previously stood.

«^:^p-

ions of the pope's

I .

(-64^

CHAPTER XVIIL

,i ;.,.

'!i ; 'li

THE BLACK DEATH.

HE court at Westminster during the few
months which followed the capture of
Calais was the most brilliant in Europe.
Tournaments and fetes followed each other
in rapid succession, and to these knights
came from all parts. So great was the reputation of
King Edward that deputies came from Germany, where
the throne was now vacant, to otier the crown of that
kingdom to him. The king declined the otier, for it
would have been impossible indeed for him to have
united the German crown with that of England,
which he already held, and that of France, which ho
claimed.

Some months after his return to England the Black
Prince asked his father as a boon that the hand of his
ward Edith Vernon should be bestowed upon the
prince's brave follower Sir Walter Somers, and as Queen
Philipp"", in the name of the lady's mother, seconded the
request, the king at once acceded to it. Edith was
now sixteen, an age at which, in those days, a young
lady was considered to be marriageable, and the wed-
ding took place with great pomp and ceremony at
Westminster; the king himself giving away the bride,

WALTEU MAI;KIKI).

27r)

nn'l bestowing, as did the prince and Queen Pliilippa,
iii.iny costly presents upon the jouni; couple. Alter
taking part in several of the tournaments, Walter
went with his bride and Dauie X'ernon down to their
estates, and were received with great rejoicing by the
tenantry, the oKlcr of whom well remembered Walter's
father and mother, and were rejoiced at finding that
they were again to become the vassals of one of the
old family. Dame Vernon was greatly loved by her
tenantry; but the latter had looked forward with some
apprehension to the marriage of the young heiress, as
the character of the knight upon whom the king might
bestow her hand would greatly afiect the happiness
and wellbeing of his tenants.

Sir James Carnenie had not returned to England
after the fall of Calais; he perceived that he was in
grave disfavour with the Black Prince, and guessed
as was the case, that some susi)icion had fallen on him
in reference to the attack upon Walter in the camp, and
to the strange attempt wdiich had been made to destroy
him by Sir Phillip Holbeaut. He had, therefore, for
a time taken service with the Count of Savoy, and was
away from England, to the satisfaction of Walter and
Dame Vernon, when the marriage took place; for he
had given proofs of such a malignity of disposition that
hoth felt, that although his succession to the estates
was now hopelessly barred, yet that he might at any
moment attempt some desperate deed to satisfy his
feeling of disappointment and revenge.

In spite of the gaiety of the court of King Edward
a cloud hungr over the kinjjdom ; for it was threatened
by a danger far more terrible than any combination of
foes — a danger from which no gallantry upon the part
of her king or warriors availed anything. With a slow

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276

THE PLAGUE.

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and torrible march the enemy was advancing frnm
the East, where countless hosts liad been slain. India,
Arabia, Syria, and Armenia had been well-nigh dc-
popnlated. In no coujitiy whicli the dread foe had
invaded had less than two-tliirds of the population
been slain; in some nine-tentlis had perished. All sorts
of portents were reported to have accompanied its ap-
pearance in the East; where it was said showers ol:
serpents had fallen, strange and unknown insects had
appeared in the atmosphere, and clouds of sulphurous
vapour had issued from the earth and enveloped whole
provinces and countries. For two or three years the
appeaiance of this scourge had been heralded by strange
atmospheric disturbances ; heavy rains and unusual
floods, storms of thunder and lightning of unheard of
violence, hail-showers of unparalleled duration and
severity, had everywhere been experienced, while in
Italy and Germany violent earthquake shocks had
been felt, and that at places where no tradition existed
of previous occurrences of the same kind.

From Asia it had spread to Africa and to Europe,
affecting first the sea-shores and creeping inland by
the course of the rivers. Greece first felt its ravages.
and Italy was not long in experiencing them. In Venice
more than 100,000 persons perished in a few months,
and thence spreading over the whole peninsula, not
a town escaped the visitation. At Florence 00,000
people were carried of!', and at Lucca and Genoa, in
Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica it raged with equal vio-
lence. France was assailed by way of Provence, and
Avignon suffered especially. Of the English college
at that place not an individual was left, and 120 per-
sons died in a single day in that small city. Paris lost
upwards of .nO.OOO of its inhabitants, while 1)0.000 were

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THE OUTBUEAK OF THE SCOURGE.

277

Skvcpt away in Lubeck, and 1,200,000 died within a
year of its iir.st apjjL'Uiauce in (Jennjiny.

In England tiie niaieh of the pe.stilence westward
was viewed with deep api)rehen.sion, and the appioach-
ing danger was brought home to tlie people by the
death of the Prince.ss Joan, the king's second daughter.
Slie was ailianced to Peter, the heir to tlie throne of
Spain; and the biide, who had not yet accouiplished
her fourteenth year, was sent over to Bordeaux w'ith a
considerable train of attendants in oi'der to be united
there to her premised husband. Scarcely had she
reached Bordeaux when she was attacked by the pes-
tilence and died in a few hours.

A few days later the news spread through the coun-
try that the disease had appeared almost sinudtaneously
at several of the seaports in the south-west of England.
Thence with great rapidity it spread through the king-
dom; proceeding through Gloucestershire and Oxford-
shire it broke out in London, and the ravages were
no less severe than they had been on the Continent,
the very lowest estimate being that two-thirds of the
population were swept away. Most of those attacked
died within a few hours of the seizure. If they sur-
vived for two days they generally rallied, but even
then many fell into a state of coma from which they
never awoke.

No words can describe the terror and dismay caused
by this the most destructive plague of whieh there is
any record in history. ^No remedies were of the slightest
avail against it; Hight was impossible, for the loneliest
haiidets suffered as severely as crowded towns, and
frequently not a single survivor was left. Men met
the pestilence in various moods; the brave with forti-
tude, the pious with resignation, the cowardly and

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278

TEUROU AND DESPAFR.

I • 111

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turbulent with outbursts of despair and fury. Atuoiii:;
the lower classes the wildest rumours j^^ained credence
Some assiL:;Ti('d the pestilence to vvitchci'aft, othiTs
declared tliut the waters of the wells and streams luid
Ikh'm poisMiied. Serious riots occurred in many places,
and gicat nundters of peojjle fell victims to the fury
of the mob under the suspicion of bein<j connected in
some way with the ravai^es of the pestilence. Tlie
Jews, ever the objects of popular hostility, engendered
by ignorance and superstition, were among the chief
suH'erers. Bands of marauders wandered through the
country plundering the houses left empty by the death
of all their occupants, and from end to end death and
suffering were universal.

Although all classes had suffered heavily the ravages
of the disease were, as is always the case, greater
among the poor than among the rich, the insanitary
conditions of their life, and their coarser and commoner
food rendering them more liable to its influence; no rank,
however, wjis exempted, and no less than three Arch-
bishops of Canterbury were carried off in succession by
the pestilence within a year of its appearance.

During the months which succeeded his marriage
Sir Walter Somers lived quietly and happily with his
wife at Westerham. It was not until late in the year
that the plague approached the neighbourhood. Walter
had determined to await its approach there. He hud
paid a few short visits to the court, where every effort
was made by continuous gaiety to keep up the spirits of
the people and prevent them from brooding over the
approaching pestilence; but when it was at hand Wal-
ter and his wife agreed that they would rather share
the lot of their tenants, whom their presence and
example might support and cheer in their need, than

THE OUXnUEAK IN THE VILLAGE.

279

return to faco it in London. One niornin;^ when tlioy
wi'ie at breakfast a tVij^htenutl servant lnoui^lit in the
news that the (lisea.se had ajipeured in the village, that
tluee persons had been taken ill on the pievious nij;ht,
tliat two had already died, and that several others had
sickened.

"The time has come, my chiMrcn," DamC Vernon said
calinly, "the danger so long foreseen is at hand, now
let us face it as we agreed to do. It has been proved
that flight is useless, since nowhere is there escape from
tiie plague; here, at least, there shall be no repetition
of the terrible scenes we have heard of elsewhere, where
the living have fled in panic and allowed the stricken
to die unattended. We have alreadv agieed that we will
set the example to our people by ourselves going down
aiul administering to the sick."

" It is hard," Walter said, rising and pacing up and
down the room, " to let Edith go into it."

"Edith will do just the same as you do," his wife
said firmly. "Were it possible that all in this house
might escape, there might be a motive for turning
coward, but seeing that no household is spared, there
is, as we agreed, greater danger in tlying from the pes-
tilence than facing it tirmly."

Walter sighed.

" You are right," he said, " but it wrings my heart to
see you place yourself in danger."

" Were we out of danger here, Walter, it might be
so," Edith replied gently; "but since there is no more
safety in the castle than in the cottage, we must face
death whether it pleases us or not, and it were best to
do so bravely."

"So be it," Walter said; "may the God of heaven
watch over us all! I^'ow, mother, do you and £<iith

J:'

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fci-

280

WALTER RESTORES CALMNESS.

busy yourselves in preparing broths, strengtheninf^
•1 rinks, and medicaments. I will go down at once to the
village and see how matters stand there and who are
in need. We have already urged upon all our people
t'^ face the danger bravely, and it' die they must, to die
Kaveiy like Christians, and not like coward dogs.
When you have prepared your soups and cordials conic
down and meet me in the villaue, brinoinii; Mabel and
Janet, your attendants, to carry the baskets."

Ralph, who was now installed as major-domo in the
castle, at once set out with Walter. They found the
village in a state of panic. Women were sitting crying
despairingly at their doors. Some were engaged in
packing their belongings in carts preparatory to flight,
some wandered aimlessly about wringing their hands,
while others went to the church, whose bells were
mournfully tolling the dirge of the departed. Walters
presence soon restored something like order and confi-
dence; his resolute tone cheered the timid and gave
hope to the despairing. Sternly he rebuked those pre-
paring to fly, and ordered them instantly to replace
their goods in their houses. Then he went to the
priest and implored him to cause the tolling of the bell
to cease.

" There is enough," he said, " in the real danger pre-
sent to appal even the bravest, and we need no bell
to tell us that death is among us. The dismal toll-
ing is enough to unnerve the stoutest heart, and if
we ring for all who die its sounds will never cease
while the plague is among us; therefore, father, I im-
plore you to discontinue it. Let there be services held
daily in the church, but I beseech you strive in your
discourses to cheer the people rather than to depress
them, and to dwell more upon the joys that await

MEASURES TO STEM THE PLAGUE.

281

those who die as Christian men and women thnn
upon the sorrows of those who remain behind. My
wife and mother will anon be down in the village uii<
will strive to cheer and comfort the people, and I look
to you for aid in this matter."

The priest, who was naturally a timid man, never-
theless nerved himself to carry out Walter's suggestions,
and soon the dismal tones of the bell ceased to be heard
in the village.

Walter despatched messengers to all the outlying
farms desiring his tenants to meet him that afternoon
at the castle in order that measures might be concerted
for common aid and assistance. An hour later Dame
Vernon and Edith came down and visited all the houses
where the plague had made its t.,ppearance, distributing
their soups, and by cheering and comforting words
raising the spirits of the relatives of the sufferers.

The names of all the women ready to aid in the
general work of nursing were taken down, and in the
afternoon at the meeting at the castle the full arrange-
ments were completed. Work was to be carried on as
usual in order to occupy men's minds and prevent
them from brooding over the ravages of the plague.
Information of any case that occurred was to be sent
to the castle, where soups and medicines were to be
"htaiiied. Whenever more assistance was required
tiiaii could be furnished by the inmates of a house
iiiother woman was to be sent to aid. Boys were told
oil" as messengers to fetch food and other matters as
re(|uired from the castle.

Ho, bravely and firmly, they prepared to meet the
pestilence; it spread with terrible severity. Scarce a
house which did not lose some of its inmates, while in
others whole families were swept away. All day Wal-

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282

A TERRIBLE TIME.

■i n

4^}

ter and his wife and Dame Vernon went from house
to house, and although they could do nothing to stem
the progress of the pestilence, tlieir presence an(J
example supported the survivors and prevented the
occurrence of any of the panic and disorder which in
most places accompanied it.

The castle was not exempt from the scourge. First
some of the domestics were seized, and three men and
four won)en died. Walter himself was attacked, but
he took it lightly, and three days after the seizure
passed into a state of convalescence. Dame Vernon
was next attacked, and expired six hours after the
commencement of the seizure. Scarcely was Walter
upon his feet than Ralph, who had not for a moment
left his bedside, was seized, but he too, after being at
death's door for some hours, turned the corner. Lastly
Edith sickened.

By this time the scourge had done its worst in the
village, and three-fifths of the population had been
swept away. All the male retainers in the castle hnd
died, and the one female who survived was nursing
her dying mother in the village. Edith's attack was
a very severe one. Walter, alone now, for Ralph,
although convalescent, had not yet left his bed, sat by
his wife's bedside a prey to anxiety and grief; for
although she had resisted the first attack she was
now, thirty -six hours after it had seized her, f;ist
sinking. Gradually her sight and power of spietli
faded, and she sank into the state of coma which was
the prelude of death, and lay quiet and motionless,
seeming as if life had already departed.

Suddenly Walter was surprised by the sound of
mnny heavy feet ascending the stairs. He went out
into the ante-room to learn the cause of this strantre

A BAND OF ASSASSINS.

283

snt from Vioiise
lothing to stem
• presence and
prevented the
jorder wliieli in

scourge. First
I three men and

15 attacked, but
iter the seizure

Dame Vernon

hours after the

cely was Walter

ot for a moment

DO, after being at

16 corner. Lastly

its worst in the
lation had been
in the castle had
ved was nursing
lith's attack was
now, for Ralph,
ft his bed, sat by
Y and grief; for
attack she wsis
seized her, fast
power of speech
coma which was
, and motionless,

:d.

ay the sound of
i-s. He went out
le of this strange

tumult, when five armed men, one of whom was
masked, rushed into the room. Walter caught up his
sword from the table.

" Ruffians," he exclaimed, " how dare you thus
desecrate the abode of death ? "

Without a word the men sprang upon him. For
a minute he defended himself against their attacks,
but he was still weak, his guard was beaten down, and
a blow felled him to the ground.

" Now settle her," the masked man exclaimed, and
the band rushed into the adjoining room. They paused,
however, at the door at the sight of the lifeless figure
on the couch.

" W^e are saved that trouble," one said, " we have
come too late."

The masked figure approached the couch and bent
over the figure.

"Yes," he said, "she is dead, and so much the
better."

Then he returned with the others to Walter.

" He breathes vet," he said. " He needs a harder
blow than that you gave him to finish him. Let him lie
here for a while, while you gather your booty together;
tlien we will carry him ofi'. There is scarcely a soul
alive in the country round, and none will note us as
we pass. 1 would not despatch him here, seeing t^ at
his body would be found with wounds upon it, and
even in these times some inquiry might be made;
therefore it were best to finish him elsewhere. When
he is missed it will be supposed that he went mad at
the death of his wife, and has wandered out and died,
may be in the woods, or has drowned himself in a pond
or stream. Besides, I would that before he dies he
should know what hand has struck the blow, and that

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284

EDITH'S REVIVAL.

r.:

I;.

my vengeance, which he slighted and has twice
escaped, has overtaken him at lust."

After ransacking the principal rooms and taking all
that was valuable, the band of marauders lifted the still
insensible body of Walter, and carrying it down-stairs
flung it across a horse. One of the ruffians mounted
behind it, and the others also getting into their saddles
the party rode away.

They were mistaken, however, in supposing tliat
the Lady Edith was dead. She was indeed very niyli
the gates of death, and had it not been for the dis-
turbance would assuredly have speedily entered them.
The voice of her husband raised in anger, the clash
of steel, followed by the heavy fall, had awakened
her deadened brain. Consciousness had at once re-
turned to her, but as yet no power of movement. As
at a great distance she had heard the words of these
who entered her chamber, and had understood their
import. More and more distinctly she heard their
movements about the room as they burst open her
caskets and appropriated her jewels, but it was not
until silence was restored that the gathering powers of
life asserted themselves; then with a sudden rush the
blood seemed to course through her veins, her eyes
opened, and her tongue was loosed, and with a scream
she sprang up and stood by the side of her bed.

Sustained as by a supernatural power she hurried
into the next room. A pool of blood on tiie floor showed
her that what she had heard had not been a dream or
the fiction of a disordered brain. Snatching up a cloak
of her husband's which lay on a couch, she wrapped it
round her, and with hurried steps made her way aloni,'
the passages until she reached the apartment occupied
by Ralph. The latter sprang up in bed with a cry of

EDITH ROUSES RALPH.

285

id has twice

and taking all
3 lifted the still
r it down-stairs
iffians mounted
ito their saddles

supposing that
idced very ni,uh
2en for the dis-
y entered them,
anger, the clash
, had awakened
had at once re-
movenient. As
e words of those
understood their
she heard their
burst open her
, but it was not
hering powers oi
sudden rush the
: veins, her eyes
nd with a scream
,f her bed.
)wer she hurried
I tiie floor showe«l
boon a dream <>v
tching up a cloak
h, she wrapped it
ide her way alon;^'
|artment occupied
,ed with a cry of

astonishment He had heard but an hour before from
Walter that all hope was gone, and thought for an
instant that the appearance was an apparition from the
(lead. The ghastly pallor of the face, the eyes burning
with a strange light, the flowing hair, and disordered
appearance of the girl might well have alarmed one
living in even less superstitious times, and llalph began
to cross himself hastily and to mutter a prayer when
recalled to himself by the sound of Edith's voice.

"Quick, Ralph!" she said, "arise and clothe yourself.
Hasten, for your life. My lord's enemies have fallen
upon him and wounded him grievously, even if they
have not slain him, and have carried him away. They
would have slain me also had they not thought I was
already dead. Arise and mount, summon everyone still
alive in the village, and follow these murderers. I will
pull the alarm-bell of the castle."

Ralph sprang from his bed as Edith left. He had
heard the sound of many footsteps in the knight's
apartments, but had deemed them those of the priest
and his acolytes come to administer the last rites of
the church to his dying mistress. Rage and anxiety
for his master gave strength to his limbs. He threw
on a few clothes and rushed down to the stables, where
the horses stood with great piles of forage and pails of
water before them, placed there two days before, by
Walter when their last attendant died. Without
waiting to saddle it, Ralph sprang upon the back of
one of the animals, and taking the halters of four
others started at a gallop down to the village.

His news spread like wild fire, for the ringing of
the alarm-bell of the castle had drawn all to their
doors and prepared them for something strange. Some
of the men had alrearlv taken their arms and were

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'2SG

THE PURSUIT.

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making their way up to the castle when they mot
Ralph. There were but five men in the village who
had altogether escaped the pestilence; others had sur-
vived its attacks, but were still weak. Horses there
were in plenty. The five men mounted at once, with
three others who, though still weak, were able to ride.

So jjieat was the excitement that seven woiiioii
who had escaped the disease armed themselves with
their husbands' swords and leaped on horseback, de-
claring that, women though they were, they would
strike a blow for their beloved lord, who had been as
an angel in the village during the plague. Thus it
was scarcely more than ten minutes after the ma-
rauders had left the castle before a motley baml,
fifteen strong, headed by Ralph, rode oti' in pursuit,
while some of the women of the village hurried up to
the castle to comfort Edith with the tidings that the
pursuit had already commenced. Fortunately a lad in
the fields had noticed the five men ride away from the
castle, and was r.Lle to point out the direction they had
taken.

At a furious gallop Ralph and his companions tore
across the country. JMile after mile was passed. Once or
twice they gained news from labourers in the field of
the passage of those before them, and knew that they
were on the right track. They had now entered a
wild and sparsely inhabited country. It was broken
and much undulated, so that although they knew tliat
the band they were pursuing were but a short distance
ahead they had not yet caught sight of them, and
they hoped that, having no reason to dread any im-
mediate pursuit, these would soon slacken their pace.
This expectation was realized, for on coming over a
brow they saw the party halted at a turf-burner's

■ !i

THE RESCUE.

2iS7

,vhen they met

the village wlio

others had sur-
:. Horses there
ed at once, with
vere able to ri.le.
xt seven woniou

themselves witli
)n horseback, tU:-
vere, they ^vould
who had been as

pla-ue. Thus it
,es after the nui-
) a motley hand,
j^e oti' in pursuit,
lage hurried up to
e tidings that the
brtunately a lad m
•ide away from the

direction they had

is companions tore
;as passed. Once or
Urs in the held <.t
id knew that they
[ad now entered a
py. It was broken
Lh they knew that
Tut a short distance
5i<rht oi them, and
to dread any uu-
islacken their pace.
on coming over a
at a turf -burners

cnttacje in the hollow below. Throe of the men had
dismounted; two of them were examining the hoof of
one of tlie horses, which had apparent!) cast a shoe or
trodden upon a stone. Ralph had warned his paity to
make no sound when they came upon the fugitives.
The sound of the horses' hoofs was deadened by the
turf, and they were within a hundred yards of the
marauders before they were perceived; then Ral[)h ut-
tci'ed a shout, and brandishing their swords the party
rode down at a headlong gallop.

The dismounted men leaped to their saddles and
galloped otfat full speed, but their pursuers were now
close upon them. Ralph and two of his companions,
who were mounted upon Walter's best horses, gained
upon them at every stride. Two of them were over-
taken and run through.

The man who bore Walter before him, finding him-
self being rapidly overtaken, threw his burden on to
the ground just as the leader of the party had checked
his horse and was about to deliver a sweeping blow at
the insensible body.

With a curse at his follower for ridding himself of
it, he again galloped on. The man's act was unavail-
ing to save himself, for he was overtaken and c-ut
d(jwn before he had ridden many strides; then Ralph
and his party instantly reined up to exauune the state
of Walter, and the two survivors of the band of mur-
derers continued their flioht unmolested.

: V. .' : < !

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t#r 'I

CHAPTER XIX.

BY LAND AND SEA.

ALTER was raised from the gror.nd, water
was fetched from the cottajj^e, and the blood
washed from his head by Ralph, aided by
two of the women. It had at once been
seen that he was still living, and Ralph on
examining the wound joyfully declared that no great
harm was done.

"Had Sir Walter been strong and well," he said,
"such a clip as this would not have knocked him fiom
his feet, but he would have answered it with a blow
such as I have often seen him give in battle; but
he was but barely recovering and was as weak as a
girl. He is unconscious from loss of blood and weak-
ness. I warrant me that when he opens his eyes and
hears that the lady Edith has risen from her bed and
came to send me to his rescue, joy will soon bring the
blood into his cheeks again. Do one of you run to tlie
hut and see if they have anj'' cordial waters; since the
plague has been raging there are few houses but h<*ive
laid in a provision in case the disease should seize
them."

The man soon returned with a bottle of cordial
water compounded of rosemary, lavender, and othei

l:..:.;6;;j|:, ,

GOOD NEWS THE BKST MEDICINE.

289

liorbs. By this time Walter had openefl his eyes. The
cordial was poured down his throat, and he was pres-
ently abici to speak."

"Bo of good cheer, Sir Walter," Ralph said; "three of
your rascally assiiilants lie dead, and the otlier two
have fled; but I liave bettiir news still for you. Lady
lldith, who you told me lay unconscious and dying,
has revived. The din of t)ie conllict seems to have
icached her ears and recalled her to life, and the dear
liuly came to my room with the news that you were
carried off, and then, while 1 was throwing on my
clothes, roused the village to your assistance by ringing
the alarm-bell. Rarely frightened 1 was when she
came in, for methought at first it was her spirit."

The good news, as Ralph liad predicted, efleetually
roused Walter, and rising to his feet he declared him-
self able to mount and ride back at (mce. Ralt)h tried
to persuade him to wait until they had formed a litter
of boughs, but Walter would not allow it.

"I would not tany an instant," he said, "for Edith
will be full of anxiety until I return. Why, Ralph, do
you think that I am a baby? Why,you yourself wei-e but
this morninsx unable to walk across the room, and here
you have been galloping and fighting on my behalf."

"In faith," Ral[)h said, smiling, "until now I had
forgotten that I had been ill."

"You have .saved my life, Ralph, you and my friends
here, whom 1 thank with all my heart for what they
have done. I will speak more to them another time,
now J must ride home with all speed."

Walter now mounted; Ralph took his place on one

.sifle of him, and one of his tenants on the other, lest he

should be seized with faintness; then at a hand-gallop

they started back for the castle.

(Hon T

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290

THE RETUIIN.

Several women of the villaii^e had, when they left,
hurried up to the castlcj. They found Edith lyin^f in-
sensible Ity the rope of the alarm-bell, having fainted
when she had accomplished her object. They presently
brought her round; as she was now sulioring only
from extreme weakness, she was laid on a couch,
and cordials and some soup were given to her. One
of the women took her place at the highest window
to watch for the return of any beluuging to the
expedition.

Edith felt hopeful as to the result, for she thouglit
that their assailants would not have troubled to cany
away the body of Walter had not life remained in it,
and she was sure that Ralph would press them so
hotly that sooner or later the abductors would be
overtaken.

An hour and a half pa.sse(l, and then the woman
from above ran down with the news that she could
see three horsemen galloping together towards the
castle, with a number of others following in confused
order behind.

"Then they have found my lord," Edith exclaimed
joyfully, "for Kalph would assuredly not return so
quickly had they not done so. 'Tis a good sign tluit
they are galloping, for had they been bearers of ill
news they would have returned more slowly; look out
again and see if they are bearing one among them."

The woman, with some of her companions, hastened
away, and in two or three minutes ran down with
the news that Sir Walter himself was one of the
three leading horsemea In a few minutes Edith was
clasped in her husband's arms, and their joy, restored
as they were from the dead to each other, was indeed
almost beyond words.

,d, when they left,
mi Edith lyin;,' iii-
ell, having fainted
ct. Thoy presently
ovv Hullering only

hiid on a couch,
;jiven to her. One
he highest window

belon^^ing to tlu.-

lit, for slie thought
e troubled to cany
life remained in it,
uld press them so
bductors would be

d then the woman
ews that she could
[ether towards the
lowing in confused

," Edith exclaimed
edly not return so
is a good sign that
been bearers of ill
ire slowly; look out
ne among them."
)mpanions, hastened
,es ran down with
If was one of the
minutes Edith was
their joy, restored
1 other, was indeed

1 ' i' , I

ll^li

SIR JAMKS CAllNKGIE OUTLANVKD.

2yi

The plague now abated fast in Wcsterhnin, only two
or three more persons being attacked by it.

As soon as Edith was sutliciently recovered to travel
Walter proceeded with her to London and there laid
before the king and prince a complaint against Sir
James Carnegie for his attempt upon their lives. Even
in the trance in which she lay Edith had recognized
the voice which had once been .so familiar to her.
Walter, too, was al)le to testify against him, for the
rough jolting on horseback had for a while restored
his consciousness, and he had heard words spoken,
before relapsing into insensibility from the contiiuied
bleeding of his wound, which enabled him to swear to
Sir James Carnegie as one of his abductors.

The king instantly ordered the arrest of the knight,
but he could not be found; unavailing .search was made
in every direction, and as nothing could be heard of
him it was concluded that he had left the kinj^dom.
He was proclaimed publicly a false and villainous
knight, his estates were contiscated to the crown, and
he him.self was outlawed. Then Walter and his wife
returned home and did their best to assi.st their tenants
in struggling through the difficulties entailed through
the plague.

So terrible had been the mortality that throughout
England there was a lack of hamls for field work,
crops rotted in the ground because there were none to
harvest them, and men able to work demanded twenty
times the wages which had before been paid. So great
was the trouble from this source that an ordinance
was passed by parliament enacting that severe punish-
ment should be dealt upon all who demanded wages
above the standard price, and even more severe pen-
alties inflicted upon those who should consent to pay

' m

292

A DESIGN AGAINST CALAIS.

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higher wages. It was, however, many years before
England recovered from the terrible blow which had
been dealt her from the pestilence.

While Europe had been ravaged by pestilence the
adherents of France and England had continued their
struggle in Brittany in spite of the terms of the truce,
and this time King Edward was the first open aggressor,
granting money and assistance to the free companies,
who pillaged and plundered in the name of England.
Tlie truce expired at the end of 1348, but was con-
tinued for short periods. It was, however, evident that
both parties were determined ere long to recommence
hostilities. The French collected larjje forces in Artois
and Picardy, and Edward himself proceeded to Sand-
wich to organize there another army for the invasion
of France.

Phillip determined to strike the first blow, and, be-
fore the conclusion of the truce, to regain possession
of Calais. Tliis town was commanded by a Lombard
officer named Almeric of Pavia. Free communication
existed, in consequence of the truce, between Calais
and the surrounding country, and Jeffrey de Charny,
the governor of St. Omer, and one of the commissioners
especially appointed to maintain the truce, opened
communications with the Lombard captain. Deeming
that like most mercenaries he would be willing to
change sides should his interest to do so be made clear,
he ofi[ered him a large sum of money to deliver the
castle to the French.

The Lombard at once agreed to the project. Jeflrey
de Charny arranged to be within a certain distance of
the town on the night of the Lst of January, bringing
with him sufficient forces to master all opposition if
the way was once opened to the interior of the town.

A TREACHEROUS GOVERNOR.

293

ly years before
blow which hud

y pestilence the
. continued then-
rins of the truce,
it open aggressor,
I free companies,
ame of England.
i8, but was con-
iver, evident that
o- to recommence
e forces in Artois
oceeded to Sand-
for the invasion

irst blow, and, be-
re^-ain possession

ed by a Lombard

ee communication
between Calais

etfrey de Charny,
_ie commissioners
le truce, opened
ptain. Deeming
lid be willing to
so be made clear,
ey to deliver the

e project. Jeffrey
certain distance of
January, bringing
r all opposition if
erior of the town.

It was further agreed that the money was to be paid
mer by a small } arty of French who were to be sent
forward for the purpo.se of examining the castle, in
order to ensure the main hody against treachery. As
a hostage for the security of tlie detachment, the
.son of the governor was to reniain in the hands of the
French without, until the safe retui:n of the scouting
party.

Several weeks elapsed between the conclusion of the
agreement and the date fixed for its execution, and in
the meantime the Lombard, either from remorse or
from a fear of the consequences which might arise
from a detection of the plot before its execution, or
from the subsequent vengeance of the English king,
disclosed the whole transaction to Edward.

The king bade him continue to carry out his arrange-
ments with De Charny, leaving it to him to counteract
the plot. Had he issued orders for the rapid assembly
of the army the French would have taken alarm. He
therefore sent private messengers to a number of
knights and gentlemen of Kent and Sussex to meet
him with their retainers at Dover on the 31st of
December.

Walter was one of those summoned, and although
much surprised at the secrecy with which he was
charged, and of such a call being made while the truce
with France still existed, he repaired to Dover on the
day named, accompanied by Ralph and by twenty men,
who were all who remained capable of bearing arms
on the estate.

He found the kincr himself with the Black Prince at
Dover, where they had arrived that day. Sir Walter
Manny was in connnand of the force, which consisted
in all of 300 men-at-arms and GOO archers. A number

jy-t

THE FRENCH EXI'EDITION.

■ :!ii

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of small boats had been collected, and at mid-day on
the 1st of January the little expedition started, and
arrived at Calais after nightfall.

In the chivalrous spirit of the times the king de-
termined that Sir Walter Manny should continue in
command of the enterprise; he and the Black Prince,
disguised as simple knights, fighting under his banner.

In the meantime a considerable force had been col-
lected at St. Omer, where a large number of knights an J
gentlemen obeyed the summons of Jeffrey de Charny.
On the night appointed they marched for Calais, in
number five hundred lances and a corresponding num-
ber of footmen. They reached the river and bridge of
Nieullay a little after midnight, and messengers were
sent on to the governor, who was prepared to receive
them. On their report De Charny advanced still
nearer to the town, leaving the bridge and passages to
the river guarded by a large body of crossbow-men
under the command of the Lord De Fiennes and a
number of other knights. At a little distance from
the castle he was met by Almeric de Pavia, who
yielded his son as a hostage according to his promise,
calculating, as was the case, that he would be recap-
tured by the English. Then, having received the
greater portion of the money agreed upon, he led a
party of the French over the castle to satisfy them of
his sincerity. Upon receiving their report that all
was quiet De Charny detached twelve knights and a
hundred men-at-arms to take possession of the castle,
while he himself waited at one of the gates of the
town with the principal portion of his force.

No sooner had the French entered the castle than
the drawbridge was raised. The Enirlish soldiers
poured out from their places of concealment, and the

(1 at mid-day on
ion started, and

les the king de-
ould continue in
he Black Prince,
inder his banner,
fce had been coi-
lerof knights an J
jffrey de Charny.
ed for Calais, in
•responding num-
ver and bridge of
messengers were
epared to receive
y advanced still
e and passages to
of crossbow-men
)e Fiennes and a
tie distance from

de Pavia, who
g to his promise,
would be recap-
inor received the
d upon, he led a
to satisfy them of
r report that all
ve knights and a
sion of the castle,
the gates of the
is force.
;d the castle than

Enjxlish soldiers
cealment, and the

A FIGHT IN THE DARK.

295

party which had entered the castle were forced to lay
down their arms. In the meantime the Black Prince
issued with a small body of troops fiom a gate near
the sea, while De Manny, with the king under his
banner, marched by the sally-port which led into the
fields. A considerable detachment of tlie division was
despatched to dislodge the enemy at the bridge of
ISieullay, and the rest, joining the party of the Black
Prince, advanced rapidly upon the forces of Jeffrey de
Charny, which, in point of numbers, was double their
own strength.

Although taken in turn by surprise the French pre-
pared steadily for the attack, De Charny ordered
them all to dismount and to shorten their lances to
pikes five feet in length. The English also dismounted
and rushing forward on foot a furious contest com-
menced. The ranks of both parties were soon broken
in the darkness, and the combatants separating into
groups a number of separate battles raged around the
different banners.

For some hours the fight was continued with un-
abating obstinacy on both sides. The king and the
Black Prince fought with immense bravery, their ex-
ample encouraging even those of their soldiers who
were ignorant of the personality of the knights who
were everywhere in front of the combat. King Edward
liimself several times crossed swords with the famous
Eustace de Ribaumont, one of the most gallant knights
in France. At length towards daybreak the king,
with only thirty companions, found himself again
opposed to De Ribaumont, with a greatly superior
force, and the strucftfle was renewed between them.

Twice the king was beaten down on one knee by the
thundering blows of the French knight, twice he rose

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296

A DESPERATE STRUGGLE.

and renewed the attack, until De Charny, seeing Sir
Walter Manny's banner, beside which Edward fought,
defended by so small a force, also bore down to the
attack, and in the struggle Edward was separated from
his opponent.

The combat now became desperate round the king,
and Sir Guy Brian, who bore De Manny's standard,
though one of the sti'ongcst and mc't gallant kniirhts
of the day, could scarce keep the banner erect. Still
Edward fought on, and in the excitement of the
moment, forgetting his incognito, he accompanied each
blow with his customary war-cry — "Edward, St. George!
Edward, St. George!" At that battle-cry, which told
the French men-at-arms that the King of Enojland was
himself opposed to them, they recoiled for a moment.
The shout too reached the ears of the Prince of Wales,
who had been fighting with another group. Calling
his knights around him he fell upon the rear of i)e
Charny 's party and quickly cleared a space around the
king.

The fight was now everywhere going against the
French, and the English redoubling their efibrts the
victory was soon complete, and scarcely one French
knight left the ground alive and free. In the struggle
Edward again encountered ])e Ribaumont, who, sepa-
rated from him by the charge of De Charny, had not
heard the king's war-cry. The conflict between them
was a short one. The French knight saw that almost
all his companions were lUr.id or captured, his party
completely defeated, and all ])ro.spects of escape cut
ofF. He therefore soon dropped the point of his sword
and surrendered to his unknown adversary. In the
meantime the troops which had been despatched to the
bridge of NieuUay had defeated the French forces left

EDWAliDS THEATMUNT OF HIS PRISONERS.

297

irny, seeing Sir

Edward fought,
[•e down to the
1 separated from

:ound the king,
mny's standard,
rrallant knights
,ner erect. Still
;itenient of the
ecompanied each
ward, St. George!
!-cry, which told
r of England was
id for a moment.
Prince of Wales,
group. Calling
1 the rear of De
space around the

)ing against the

iheir etibrts the
cely one French

In the struggle
nnmt, who, sepa-
Charny, had not
ct between them

saw that almost
)turcd, his party
ts of escape cut
oino of his sword
\ersary. In the
lespatched to the

reneh forces left

to guard the passage and clear the ground towards St.
Oiuer.

Early in the morning Edward entered Calais in
triumph, taking with him thirty French nobles as
prisoners, while two hundred more remained dead
on the field. That evening a great ' bancjuet was
held, at which the French prisoners were present.
The king presided at the banquet, and the French
nobles were waited upon by the Black Prince and his
knights. After the feast was concluded the king be-
stowed on De Ribaumont the chaplet of pearls which
he wore round his crown, hailing him as the most gal-
lant of the knights who had that day fought, and
granting him freedom to return at once to his friends,
presenting him with two horses, and a purse to defray
his expenses to the nearest French town.

De Charny was afterwards ransoTiied, and after his
return to France assembled a body of troops and
attacked the castle which Edward had bestowed upon
Almeric of Pavia, and capturing the Lombard, carried
him to St. Omer, and had him there publicly flayed
alive as a punishment for his treachery.

Walter had as usual fought by the side of the Prince
of Wales throughout the battle of Calais, and had
much distinguished himself for his valour. Ralph was
severely wounded in the fight, but was able a month
later to rejoin Walter in England.

The battle of Calais and the chivalrous bearing of
the kinu' created oreat enthusiasm and delic^ht in Eng-
land, and did much to rouse the people from the state
of grief into which they had been cast by the ravages
of the plague. The kmg did his utmost to maintain
the spirit which had been evoked, and the foundation
of the order of the Carter, and the erection of a

298

A SPANISH ARMADA.

!' Ji, ^ i'

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''lij

splendid chapel at Windsor, and its dedication, with
great ceremony, to St. George, the patron saint of
England, still further raised the renown of the court
of Edward throughout Europe as the centre of the
chivalry of the age.

Notwithstanding many treaties which had taken
place, and the near alliance which had been well-nigh
carried out between the royal families of England and
Spain, Spanish oirates had never ceased to carry on a
series of aggressions upon the English vessels trading
in the Bay of Biscay. Ships were every day taken,
and the crews cruelly butchered in cold blood. Ed-
ward's remonstrances proved vain, and when threats
of retaliation were held out by Edward, followed by
preparations to carry those threats into effect, Pedro
the Cruel, who had now succeeded to the throne of
Spain, despatched strong reinforcements to the fleet
which had already swept the English Channel.

The great Spanish fleet sailed north, and capturing
on its way a number of English merchantmen, put into
Sluys, and prepared to sail back in triumph with the
prizes and merchandise it had captured. Knowing,
however, that Edward was preparing to oppose them,
the Spaniards filled up their complement of men,
strengthened themselves byall sorts of the war mochines
then in use, and started on their return for Spain with
one of the most powerful armadas that had ever put
to sea.

Edward had collected on the coast of Sussex a fleet
intended to oppose them, and had summoned all the
military forces of the south of England to accompany
him; and as soon as he heard that the Spaniards were
about to put to sea he set out for Winchelsea, where
the fleet was collected.

A GREAT SEA-FIGUT.

299

The queen accompanied him to the sea-coast, and
the Black Prince, now in his twentieth year, was ap-
pointed to command one of the largest of the English
vessels.

The fleet put to sea when they heard that the Span-
iards had started, and the hostile flectfi were soon in
sight of each other. The number of fighting men on
board the Spanish ships was ten times those of the
English, and their vessels were of vastly superior size
and strength. They had, moreover, caused their ships
to be fitted at Sluys with large wooden towers, which
furnished a commanding position to their crossbow-
men. The wind was direct in their favour, and they
could have easily avoided the contest, but, confiding
in their enormously superior force, they sailed boldly
forward to the attack.

The king himself led the English line, and directing
his vessel towards a large Spanish ship, endeavoured
to run her down. The shock was tremendous, but the
enemy's vessel was stronger as well as larger than
that of the king; and as the two ships recoiled from
each other it was found that the water was rushing
into the English vessel, and that she was rapidly sink-
ing. The Spaniard passed on in the confusion, but the
king ordered his ship to be instantly laid alongside
another which wsis following her, and to be firmly
lashed to her. Then with his knights he sprang on
board the Spaniard, and after a short but desperate
fisjht cut down or drove the crew overboard. The
royal standard was hoisted on the prize, the sinking
English vessel was cast adrift, and the king sailed on
to attack another adversary.

The battle now raged on all sides. The English
strove to grapple with and board the enemy, while

IMJ

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till;

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300

THE I'UINCKS I'EKIL.

the Spaniards poured upon them a sliowcr of bolts and
quarrels from their cross-bows, Ijurled immense masses
of stone from their military engines, and, as they drew
alongside, east into them heavy bars of iron, which
pierced holes in the bottom of the ship.

Walter was on board the ship commanded by the
Black Prince. This had been steei'ed towards one of
the largest and most important of the Spanish vessels.
As they approached, the engines poured their missilus
into them. Several great holes were torn in the sides
of the ship, which was already sinking as she came
alongside her foe.

" We must do our best. Sir Walter," the prince ex-
claimed, "for if we do not capture her speedily our
ship will as.suredly sink beneath our feet."

The Spaniard stood far higher above the water than
the English ship, and the Black Prince and his knights
in vain attempted to climb her sides, while the seamen
strove with pumps and buckets to keep the vessel
afloat. Every ellbrt was in vain. The Spaniard's
men-at-arms lined the bulwarks, and repulsed every
effort made by the English to climb up them, while
those on the towers rained down showers of bolts and
arrows and masses of iron and stone. The situation
was desperate when the Earl of Lancaster, passing by
in his ship, saw the peril to which the prince was
exposed, and, ranging up on the other side of the
Spaniard, strove to board her there. The attention of
the Spaniards being thus distracted, the prince and
his companions made another desperate efibrt, and
succeeded in winning their way on to the deck of
the Spanish ship just as their own vessel sank beneath
their feet; after a few minutes' desperate fighting the
Spanish ship was captured.

CATCHING A TARTAR

301

CI* of bolts and
nmense masses
J, as they drew
of iron, which

mandeJ by the
towards one of
Spanish vessels,
id their missiles
iorn in the sides
ivr as she came

" the prince ex-
ler speedily our
eet."

e the water than
3 and his knights
,vhile the seamen
keep the vessel
The Spaniard's
1 repulsed every
> up them, while
ers of bolts and
The situation
laster, passing by
1 the prince was
Ither side of the
The attention of
the prince and
[erate effort, an«l
to the deck oi"
jsel sank beneath
Irate lighting the

The English were now everywhere getting the best
of their enemies. Many of the Spanish vessels had
been captui-ed or sunk, and after the tiglit had raged
for some hours, the rest began to disperse and seek
safety in flight. The English vessel commanded by
Count Robert of Namur had towards 'uight engaged
a Spanish vessel of more than twice its own strength.
His adversaries, seeing that the day was lost, set all
sail, but looking upon the little vessel beside them as
a prey to be taken possession of at their leisure, they
fastened it tightly to their sides by the grappling-irons,
and spreading all sail, made away. The count and his
men were unable to free themselves, and were being
dragged away, when a follower of the count named
Henne .in leapt suddenly on board the Spanish ship.
With a bound he reached the mast, and with a single
blow with his sword cut the halliards which supported
the main-sail. The sail fell at once. The Spaniards
rushed to the spot to repair the disaster which threat-
ened to delay their ship. The count and his followers,
seeing the bulwarks of the Spanish vessel for the
moment unguarded, poured in, and after a furious con-
Hict captured the vessel. By this time twenty-four of
the enemy's vessels had been take i, the rest were either
sunk or in full flight, and Edward at once returned to
the English shore.

The flght had taken place within sight of land, and
Queen Philippa, from the windows of the abbey, which
stood on rising ground, had seen the approach of the
vast Spanish fleet, and had watched the conflict until
night fell. She remained in suspense as to the result
until the king himself, with the Black Prince and
Prince John, afterwards known as John of Gaunt, who,
although but of ten years of age, had accompanied the

1 i

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302

A GLORIOUS VICTORY.

Black Prince in his ship, rode up with the news of tlie
victory.

This jjreat sea-fijjht was one of the brin;htest and
most honourable in the annals of English history, for
not even in the case of that other great Spanish
Armaria which suffered defeat in English waters were
the odds so immense or the victory so thorough and
complete. The result of the fight was, that after somo
negotiations a truce of twenty years was concluded
with Spain.

'M-

""^"^l^t^'

• I

I ' I

I ;!

the news of the

e brightest and
jlish iiistory, i'or
• (treat Spanish
lish waters wen;
BO thorou<;h and
1, that after sonii;
3 was concluded

CHAPTER XX.

POITIERS.

'!' I

FTEIl the great sea-fight at the end of
August, 18')0, England had peace for some
years. Phillip of France had died a week
before that battle, and had been succeeded
by his son John, Duke of Normandy. Upon
the part of both countries there was an indisposition
to renew the war, for their power had been vastly
crippled by the devastations of the plague. This was
followed by great distress and scarcity owing to the
want of labour to till the fields. The truce was there-
fore continued from time to time; the pope strove to
convert the truce into a permanent peace, and on the
28th of August, 1.354, a number of the prelates and
barons of England, with full power to arrange terms
of peace, went to Avignon, where they were met by the
French representatives. The powers committed to the
Ennrlish commissioners show that Edward was at this
time really desirous of making a permanent peace with
France; but the French ambassadors raised numerous
and unexpected difficulties, and after lengthened ne-
gotiations the conference was broken off.

The truce came to an end in June, 1.355, and great
preparations were made on both sides for the war. The

\'\0I^M

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304

FUESH PKEPARATIONS FOU WAIl.

Kin;^ of Enj;Ian(l strained every ett<»rt to f'urnisli and
e(iuij) an army which was to proceed with the lihicU
Prince to A(|uitaine, of whiith province liis father had
appointc'd him <;()vernoi', and in Novemliei- the Prince
.saihMJ for Honh-anx, with the advan(M!-t,niai'd of liis
force. Sir Walter Somers accompanied iiim. J)uiinL;
the years whicii had passed since the phiLjue he had
resided principally upon his estates, and had the .satis-
faction of seeinijj tliat his tenants escaj)ed the distress
which was ^jcneral throu_!:;h the country, lie had In-en
in the habit of repaiiinjjf to Londt)n to take part in the
tournaments and other festivities; but both he an<l
Edith preferred the quiet country life to a continued
residence at court. Two sons liad now been born to
him, and fond as he was of tlie excitement and adven-
ture of war, it was with deep reufiet thut lie obeyed
the royal summons, and left his house with his re-
tainers, consisting of twenty men-at-arms and thirty
archers, to join th<! prince.

Upon the Black Prince's landing at Bordeaux he
was joined by the Gascon lords, the vassals oi tnc;
English crown, and for three months marched through
and ravaged the districts adjoining, the French army,
although greatly superior in force, oti'ering no eliectua!
resistance. Many towns were taken, and he returned
at Christmas to Bordeaux after a campaign attended
by a series of unbroken successes.

The following spring the war recommenced, and a
diversion was eli'ected by the Duke of Lancaster, who
was in command of Brittany, joining his forces with
those of the King of Navarre, and many of the nobles
of Normandy, wliile King Edward crossed to Calais and
kept a portion of the Frencli army occupied tliere. Tlie
Black Prince, leaving the principal part of his forces

THE prince's retreat (MT OFF.

309

nnrler the connnand of tho Earl of Albret to (»uartl the
territory alrra<ly aciiuired ai,'ainst the attack of the
Froncli army under tlio Count of Arinaj^nac, marched
with 2()U0 picked men-at-arms and (iOOO archers into
Auvei-L,me, and thence turning into Berry, marched to
the gates of Bour<,'es.

The King of b ranco was now thoroughly alarmed,
and issued a general call to all his vassals to assemble
on the Loire. Tlie Prince of Wales, finding immense
liodies of men closing in around him, fell back slowly,
capturing and levelling to the grouml the strong castle
of Romorentin.

The King of Fra-ice was now hastening forward,
accompaniLiil by his four sons, 140 nobles with ban-
ners, 20,000 men-at-arms, and an immense force of
infantrj'. Vast accessions of forces joined him each
day, and on the 17th of September he occupied a posi-
tion between the Black Prince and Guienne. The first
intimation that either the Black Prince or the King of
France had of their close proximity to each other was
an accidental meeting between a small foraging force
of the English and three hundred French horse, under
the command of the Counts of Auxerre and Joigny, the
marshal of Burgundy, and the lord of Chatillon. The
French hotly pursued the little English party, and on
emerging from some low bushes found themselves in
the midst of the English camp, where all were taken
prisoners. From them the Black Prince learned that
the King of France was within a day's march.

The prince desjiatched the Captal de Buch with 200
men-at-arms to reconnoitre the force and position of
the enemy, and these coming upon tho rear of the
French army just as they were about to enter Poitiers,
dashed among them and took some prisoners. The

(264) u

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mm '

306

THK FIELD OF POITIFIIS.

King of France thus first learned that the enemy he
was searching for was actually six miles in his rear.
The Captal de Buch and his companions returned to
the Blaclc Prince, and contirmed the int'ornuition ob-
tained from the prisoners, that the King of France,
with an army at least eight times as strong as his own,
lay between him and Poitiers.

The position appeared well-nigh desperate, but the
prince and his mf)st experienced knights at once recun-
iioitred the country to choose the best ground upon
which to do battle. An excellent position was chosen.
It consisted of rising ground counnanding the country
towards Poitiers, and natuially defended by the hedges
of a vineyard. It was only accessible from Poitiers by
a sunken road flanked by banks and fences, and but
wide enou2:h to admit of four horsemen riuinsr abreast
alonjj it. The jjround on either side of tliis hollow
way was rough and broken so as to impede the move-
ments even of infantry, and to render tho mancx'uvre.-'
of a large body of ca\airy nearly impracticable. On
ti-^- left of the position was a little hamlet called
Mi'upertuis. Here on the night of Saturday the 17tli
*>': September the prince encamped, and early next
morning made his dispositions for the battle. His whole
force was dismounted and occupied the high ground,
a strong body of archers lined the hedges on either
side of the sunken road; the main body of archers were
drawn up in their usual formation on the hillside, their
?ront covered by the hedge of the vineyard, while be-
hind them the men-at-arms were drawn up.

The King of France divided his army into three
divisions, each consisting of l'!,00() mounted men-at-
arms besides int'anti-y, commanded respectively by tin;
Duke of Orleans, the king's brother, the dauphin, and

iii:i!"'i!

THE cardinal's EFFORTS FOR PEACE.

307

the l^ing himself. With the two royal princes were
the most experienced of the French commanders. In
the meantime ])e Ribaumont, with three other French
knights, recormoitred the English position, and on their
return with their report strongly advised that as large
bodies of cavalry would be quite useless owing to the
nature of the ground, the whole force should dis-
mount, except 800 picked men destined to break the
line of English archers and a small body of German
horse to act as a reserve.

Just as the King of France was about to give orders
for the advance, the Cardinal of Perigord arrived in
his camp, anxious to stop, if possible, the effusion of
blood. He hurried to the King of France.

" You have here, sire," he said, " the flower of all the
chivalry of your realm assembled against a mere hand-
ful of English, and it will be far more honourable and
profitable for you to have them in your power without
battle than to risk such a noble array in uncertain
strife. I pray you, then, in the name of God, to let
me ride on to the Prince of Wales, to show him his
peril, a, id to exhort him to peace."

"Willingly, my lord," the king replied; "but above
all things be quick."

The cardinal at once hastened to the English camp;
he found the Black Prince in the midst of his knights
ready for battle, but by no means unwilling to listen
to proposals for peace. His position was indeed most
perilous. In his face was an enormously superior army,
and he was moreover threatened by famine; even during
the two preceding days his n^^my had suffered from a
great scarcity of forage, and its provisions were almost
wholly exhausted. The French force was sutiiciently
numerous to blockade him in his camp, and he knew

l!il':l':: i^

n'TM.

;"!': I!

Vh'H

:>■)

Imn

I'll' >'^'.

308

THE FAILUPE OF THE NEGOTIATIONS.

that did they adopt that course he must surrender un-
conditionally, since were he forced to sally out and
attack the French no valour could compensate for the
immense disparity of numbers. He therefore replied
at once to the cardinal's application, that he was ready
to listen to any terms by which his honour and that
of his companions would be preserved.

The cardinal returned to the King of France, and with
much entreaty succeeded in obtaining a truce until sun-
rise on the following morning:. The soldiers returned to
their tents, and the cardinal rode backA\ ard and forward
between the armies, beseeching the King of France to
moderate his demands, and the Black Prince to submit
to the evil fortune which had befallen him; but on the
one side the king looked upon the victory certain, and
on the other the Black Prince thought that there was at
least a hope of success should the French attack him.
All, therefore, that the cardinal could obtain from him
was an offer to resign all he had captured in his expedi-
tion, towns, castles, and prisoners, and to take an oath
not to bear arms again against France for seven years.
This proposal fell so far short of the demands of the
French king that pacification soon appeared hopeless.

Early on the Monday mc -ning the cardinal once
more sought the presence of the French king, but found
John inflexible; while some of the leaders who had
viewed with the strongest disapproval his efforts to
snatch what they regarded as certain victory from their
' ands, gave him a peremptory warning not to show
himself agn,in in their lines.

The prelate thtn bore the n^^ws of his failure to the
Prince of Wales, "fail son," he said, "do the best you
can, for you must needs fi'^dit, as I can find no means
of peace or anmesty with the King of France."

THE FRENCH ADVANCE.

309

" Be it so, good father," the prince replied, " it is our
full resolve to ti«;ht, and God will aid the right."

The delay which had occurred had not been with-
out advantages for the British army, although the
shortness of provisions was greatly felt. Every efibrt
had been made to strengthen the position. Deep
trenches had been dug and palisades erected around it,
and the carts and bao;<iaoe train ht^d all been moved
round so as to form a protection on the weakest side
of the camp, where also a rampart had been constructed.

Upon a careful examination of the ground it was
found that the hill on the right side of the camp was
less difRcult than had been supposed, and that the dis-
mounted men-at-arms who lay at its foot under the
command of the Dauphin would find little difficulty in
climbing it to the assault. The prince therefore gave
orders that 300 men-at-arms and 300 mounted archers
should make a circuit from the rear round the base
of the hill, in order to pour in upon the tlank of the
Dauphin's division as soon as they became disordered
in the ascent. The nature of the ground concealed
this mancpuvre from the enemies' view, and the Cap-
tal De Buch, who was in command of the party, gained
unperceived the cover of a wooded ravine within a tew
hundred yards of the left flank of the enemy. By
the time that all these dispositions were complete the
huge French array was moving forward. The Black
Prince, surrounded by his knights, viewed them ap-
proaching.

" Fair lords," he said, " though we be so few agair3t
that mighty power of enemies, let us not be dismayed,
for strength and victory lie not in multitudes, but in
those to whom God give them. If he will the day be
ours, then the highest glory of this world will be given

! !;■

Inl.il" ;l

':•!

I' ■ ■ if

310

SIK JAMES AUDLEY's VOW.

iii:

i iji

!i ra

v::ivmi

. \:

fi ' ij

to U8. If we (lie, 1 have the noble lord, my father, and
two fair brothers, and you have each of you many a
good friend wlio will avenge us well; thus, then, 1 pray
you fight well this day, and if it please God and
St. George I will also do the part of a guod knight."

The prince then chose Sir John Chandos and Sir
James Audley to remain by his side during the conflict
in order to aflord hiu) counsel in case of need. Audley,
however, pleaded a vow which he had made long before,
to be the first in battle should he ever be engaged under
the command of the King of England or any of his
children. The prince at once acceded to his request to
be allowed to fight in the van, and Audley, accom-
panied by four chosen squires, took his place in front
of the English line of battle. Not far from him, also
in advance of the line, was Sir Eustace D'Ambrecicourt
on horseback, also eager to distinguish himself.

As Sir James rode off the prince turned to Walcer.
"As Audley must needs fight as a knight-errant, Sir
Walter Somers, do you take your place by my side, for
there is no more valiant knight in my army than you
have often proved yourself to be."

Three hundred chosen French men-at-arms mounted
on the strongest horses covered with steel armour,
led the way under the command of the Marechals
DAudeham and De Clermont; while behind them
were a lai'ge body of German cavalry under the Counts
of Nassau, Saarbruck, and Nidau, to support the"\ in
their attack on the English archers. On the right was
the Duke of Orleans with 16,0^)0 men-at-arms; on the
left the Dauphin and his two brothers v/ith an equal
force; while King John himself led on the rear-guard.

When the three hundred elite of the Fiench army
reached the narrow way between the hedges, knowing

I i •; . i

THE CllAIiGE OF THE FRENCH CHIVALRY.

311

hedtres. knowin<?

tliat tliese wore lined witli arcliers thoy charjijed through
at a gallop to fall upon the main body of bowmen cover-
ing the front of the English men-at-arms. The moment
tliey were fairly in the hollow road the British archers
rose on either side to their feet and poured such a flight
of arrows among them that in an instant all was confu-
sion and disarray. Tlirough every joint and crevice of
the armour of knights and horses the aiTows found
their way, and the lane was almost choked with the
bodies of men and horses. A considerable number,
nevertheless, made their way through and approached
the first line of archers beyond.

Here tliey were met by Sir James Audloy, who, with
liis four S(]uires, plunged into their ranks and overthrew
the Marechal D'Audeham, and then fought his way on-
ward. Regardless of the rest of the battle he pressed
ever forward, until at the end of the day, wounded in
a hundred places and fainting from loss of blood, he fell
from his noise almost at the gates of Poitiers, and was
borne from the field by the four faithful scjuires who
had fought beside him throughout the day.

Less fortunate was Sir Eustace D'Ambrecicourt, who
spurred headlong upon the German cavalry. A German
knight rode out to meet him, and in the shock both were
dishorsed, but before Sir Eustace could i-ecover his seat
he was borne down to the ground by four others of the
enemy, and was bound and carried captive to the rear.

In the meantime the English archers kept up their
incessant hail of arrows upon the band under the
French marslials. The English men-at-arms passed
through the gaps purposely left in the line of archers
and drove back the front rank of the enemy upon
those following, chasing them headlong down the hollow
road ajrain. The few survivors of the French force,

i:i i

:i : 1!

nil' Mi I

■ ii- ■

312

THK ENGLISH ADVANCE.

galloping back, carried confusion into the advancinf]^
division of the Dauphin. Before order was resturtni
the Captal De Buch with his six hundred men issued
forth from his place of concealment and charged im-
petuously down on the left tlank of the Dauphin.

The French, shaken in front by the retreat of their
advance guard, were thrown into extreme confusion by
this sudden and unexpected charge. The horse archers
with the captal poured their arrows into the mass,
while the shal'ts of the main body of the archers on the
hill hailed upon them without ceasing.

The rumour spread among those in the French rear,
who were unable to see what was going forward, that
the day was already lost, and many began to Hy. 8ir
John Chandos marked the confusion which had set in,
and he exclaimed to the prince:

" Now, sir, ride forward, and the day is yours. Let
us charge right over upon your adversary, the King of
France, for there lies the labour and the feat of the
day. Well do I know that his groat courage will
never let hiui fly, but, God willing, he shall be well
encountered."

" Forward, then, John Chandos," replied the prince.
"You shall not see me tread one step back, but ever in
advance. Bear on my banner. God and St. George
be with us!"

The horses of the English force were all held in
readiness by their attendants close in their reai-.
Every man, sprang into his saddle, and with levelled
lances the army bore down the hill against the enemy,
while the Captal De Buch forced his way through the
struggling ranks of the French to join them.

Tl, ;-hese two parties were opposed the whole of the
German cavalry, the division of the Dauphin, now

I i !i

DEFEAT OF THE DAUnilX's DUISION.

313

I the advancinrr
Lii' was re.stui'ci!
Ired men issued
,nd charged iui-
e Dauphin,
retreat of their
me confusion by
ho horse archers
1 into the mass,
16 archers on the

the French rear,
iig forward, that
egan to Hy. ISir
which had set in,

ly is yours. Let

[sary, the King of

the feat of the

cat courage will

le shall be well

Dlied the prince,
jack, but ever in
and St. George

were all held in
in their rear,
nd with levelled
ainst the enemy,
way through the

|i them.
the whole of the
e Dauphin, now

thinned by tlight, and a strong force under the Con-
.stable de Brienne, Duke of Athen.s. The first charge
of the Eni:jlish was directed against the Germans, the
remains of the marshal's forces, and that connnanded
by the Constable. The two bodies of cavalry met with
a tremendous shock, laising their respective war-cries,
^ Denis Mount Joye!" and "St. George Guyenne!"
Lances were shivered, and horses and men rolled over,
but the German horse were borne down in every direc-
tion by the charge of the English chivalry. Tlie Counts
of Kassau and Saarbruck were taken, and the rest
driven down the hill in utter confusion. The division
of the Duke of Orleans, a little further down the hill to
the right, were seized with a sudden panic, and 1G,000
men-at-arms, together with their conuuander, lied
without strikinu" a blow.

Having routed the French and German cavalry in
advance, the English now fell upon the Dauphin's
division. This had been already confused by the
attacks of the Captal De Buch, and when its leaders
beheld the complete rout of the marshals and the
Germans, and saw the victorious force galloping down
upon them, the responsibility attached to the charge
of the three young princes overcame their firnuiess.
The Lords of Landas, Vaudenay, and St. Venant,
thinking the battle lost, hurried the princes from the
lield, surrounded by eight hundred lances, determined
to place them at a secure distance, and then to return
and tiiiht beside the kins:.

The retreat of the princes at once disorganized the
force, but though many Hed a number of the nobles
remained scattered over the Held fighting in separate
bodies with their own retainers gathered under their
banners. Gradually these fell back and took post on

I'l !!■■

314

THE FRENCH KING RESISTS TO THE LAST.

1 !«

the left of tlie French kinix's division. Tlie Constiihlo
and the Duke of Bourbon with a hiru'o body of kni'dits
and nion-at-anns also opposed a tirui front to the ad-
vance of the Eniilish.

The kinjf saw with indii^nation one of his divisions
defeated and the otlier in coward lli^lit, but his force;
were still vastly superior to tliose of the English, and
ordering his men to dismount, he prepared to receive
tlieir onset. The Eniilish now gathered their forces
which had been scattered in condiat, and agaiu
advanced to the tiijht. The archers as nsual heralded
this advance with showers of arrows, which .shook tlio
ranks of the French anil opened the way for tlio
cavalry. These dashed in, and the ranks of the two
armies became mixed, and each man fought hand to
hand. The French kini;' fought on foot witli immense
valour and braveiy, as did his noble.s. The Dukes of
Bourbon and Athens, the Lords of Landas, Argenton,
Chambery, Joinville, and many others stood and died
near the king.

Gradually the English drove back their foe.s. The
French forces became cut up into groups or confined
into narrow spaces. Knight after knight fell around
the king. De Ribaumont fell near him. JeliVey do
Charny, who, as one of the most valiant knights in
the army, had been chosen to bear the French stan-
dard, the oriHannne, never left his sovereign's side, and
as long as the sacred banner lloated over his head John
would not believe the day was lost. At length, how-
ever, Jefirey de Charny was killed, and the orillannno
fell. John, surrounded on every side by foes who
pressed forward to make him prisoner, still kept clear
the space immediately around himself and his little sun
with his battle-axe; but at last he saw that further

rilK LAST.

KING JOHN A CAPTIVE.

315

resistance woultl only entail the clcath of botli, and he
then surrendered to Denis de Montbee, a knight of
Arte is.

The battle was now virtually over. The French
banners and p(>niions had disappeared, and nothing
was seen save the dead and dying, groups of j)risoners,
and j)artics of fugitives tlying over the country.
Chandos now advised the prince to halt. His banner
was pitched on the sunimit of a little mound. The
trumpets blew to recall the army from the pursuit, and
the prince, taking off his helmet, drank with the little
body of knights who accompanied him some wine
brought from hi j former encampment.

Tlie two marshals of the ]'''".giish army, the Earls of
Warwick and Sutiblk, woie among the first to return
at the call of the trumpet. Hearing that King John
had certainly not left the field of battle, though they
knew not whether he was dead or taken, the prince at
once despatched the Earl of Warwick and Lord Cob-
ham to find and protect him if still alive. They soon
came upon a mass of men-at-arms, seemingly engaged
in an angry quarrel. On riding up they found that
the object of strife was the King of France, who had
been snatched from the hands of Montbee, and was
being claimed by a score of men as his prisoner. The
Earl of Warwick and Lord Cobham instantly made
their way through the mass, and dismounting, saluted
the captive monarch with the deepest reverence, and
keeping back the multitude led him to the Prince of
Wales. The latter bent his knee before the king, and
calling for wine, presented the cup with his own hands
to the unfortunate monarch.

The battle was over by noon, but it was evening
before all the pursuing parties returned, and the re-

ri'li;

!• ^1

!! H

316

A WONDERFUL VICTOKY.

. :>

. H

tl!

i'f'l !■

suit of the victory was then fully known. With less
than 8000 men the English had conquered iar more
than (iO.OOO. On the Enj,di,sh side '2000 mon-at-arms
and 1500 archers had fallen. Upon the French side
11,000 ni»m-at-arnis, hesides an innnense number of
footmen, had been killed. A king, a prince, an arch-
bishop, 13 counts, 60 barons, and more than 2000
knights were prisoners in the hands of the English,
with a number of other soldiers, who raised the num-
ber of captives to dor.ble that of their coiuiuerors. All
the baggage of the French army was taken, and as the
barons of France had marched to the field feeling cer-
tain of victory, and the rich armour of the prisoners
became innnediately the property of the captors, im-
mense stores of valuable ornaments of all kinds, espe-
cially jewelled baldrics, enriched the meanest soldier
among the conquerors.

The helmet which the French king had worn, which
bore a small coronet of gold beneath the crest, was
delivered to tha Prince of Wales, who sent it off at
once to his father as the best trophy of the battle he
could offer him.

Its receipt was the first intimation which Edward
III. received of the great victory.

As the prince had no means of providing for the
immense number of prisoners, the greater portion were
set at liberty upon their taking an oath to present
themselves at Bordeaux by the ensuing Christmas in
order either to pay the ransom appointed, or to again
yield themselves as prisoners.

Immediately the battle was over Edward sent for the
gallant Sir James Audley, who was brought to him on
his litter by his esquires, and the prince, after warmly
congratulating him on the honour that he had that day

A CONFLICT OF (JCNEHOSITY.

317

)n which Edward

won as tho Lrnvost knijjjht in the army, assigned Ijini
an annuity of iive liundrtMl marks a yeai*.

No sooner was Audley taken to his own tent tlian
he called round him several of his nearest relations
and friends, and then and there made over to his four
gallant attendants, without power of recal, the gift
which the prince liad bestowed upon him. The prince
was not to be outdone, however, in liberality, and
on hearing that Audley had assigned his present to tlve
l)rave men who had so gallantly supported him in the
fight, he presented Sir James with another annuity
of six hundred marks a year.

•^^i^'

N the evcninfj after the })attle of Poitiers a
splendid entertainment was served in i\w
tent of the Prince of Wales to the kin^j of
France and all the principal prisoners.
John, with his son and six of his liighest
nobles were seated at a table raised above the rest,
and the prince himself waited as page upon- tlio
French king. John in vain endeavoured to persnudo
the prince to be seated; the latter refused, sayinjjf,
that it was his pleasure as well as his duty to wait
upon one who had shown himself to be the best aixi
bravest knight in the French army. The example of
the Black Prince was contagious, and the Enj^lish vie(
with each other in generous treatment of their pris-
oners. All were treated as friends, and that night an
inmiense number of knights and squires were admitted
to ransom on such terms as had never before been
known. The captors simply required their prisoners
to declare in good faith what they could atlbrd to pay
without pressing themselves too hard, " for they did
not wish," they said, " to ransom knights or scjuires on
terms which would prevent them from maintaining
their station in society, from serving their lords, or

Tin-: TIUIMIMIANT KNTRY INTO LONDON.

319

from riding forth in urnis to mlvjineo tlieir name uiui
lioiiour."

Upon the following morning solemn thanksgivings
were ollered uj) on the tield of battle for the glorious
victory. Then the English army, striking its tents,
marched back towards Bordeaux. They were un-
molested upon this march, for although the divisiojis of
the Dauphin and the Duke of Orleans had now re-
united, and were immensely siiperior in numbers to
tlie English, encumbered as the latter were, moreover,
with prisoners and booty, the tremendous defeat w hich
they had sufi'ered, and still more the caj)ture of the
king, paralysed the French commanders, and the Eng-
lish reached Bordeaux without striking another blow.

Not long after they reached that city the Cardinal
of Perigord and another legate presented themselves
to arrange peace, and these negotiations went on
throughout the winter. The pri'ice had received full
powers from his father, and his demands were very
moderate; but in spite of this no iinal peace could be
arranged, and the re; ult of the conference was the
proclamation of a truce, to last for two years from the
following Easter.

During the winter immense numbers of the prisoners
who had gone at large upon patrol, came in and paid
their ransoms, as did the higher nobles who had been
taken prisoners, and the whole army was greatly en-
riched. At the end of April the prince returned to
England with King John. The procession through '
the streets of London was a magnificent one, the citi-
zens vicing with each other in decorating their houses
in honour of the victor of Poitiers, who, simply dressed,
rode on a small black horse by the side of his prisoner,
who was splendidly attired, and mounted on a superb

320

PEACE MADE WITH SCOTLAND.

fi |i

I '! 1U

a' )

li i ■: I

wliito chariier. The kinij received bis roval prisonrr
in stfite in the great hall of liis palace at Westrninstei-,
and (lid all in his power to alleviate the sorrows of his
condition. The splendid palace of the Savoy, with
garden;: extending to the Thames, was appointed for
his residence, and every means was taken to soften
his captivity,

Durinj; the absence of the Black Prince in Guienne
the kinir had been warrinof in Scotland. Here his
success had been small, as the Scotch had retreated
before him, wasting the coimtry. David Bruce, the
rightful king, was a prisoner in England, an*' Baliol,
a descendant of the rival of Robert Bruce, had been
placed upon thvj throne. As Edward passed thiough
Roxbdrcrh he received from Baliol a formal cessioa of
all his rights and titles to the throne of Scotland, and
in return for this purely nominal gii't he bestowed an
annual income upon Baliol, who lived and died a pen-
sioner of Enjjland. After Edward's return to Enffiand
necfotiations were carried on with the Scots, and a
treaty was signed by which a truce for ten years was
established between the two countries, and the libei-
ation of Bruce was granted on a ransom of 100,000
marks.

The disorganization into which France had been
tlirown by the capture of its king increased rather than
diininisheo. Among all classes men strove in the ab-
sence of a repressi\ e power to gain advantages and privi-
leges. Serious riots occurred in many parts, and tho
demagogues of Paris, headed by Stephen Marcel, ami
Rol)ert le Coq, bishop of Leon, set at defiance the
Dauphin and the ministers and lieutenant of the kini:.
Massacre and violence stained the streets of Paris witli
blood. General law, public order, and private security

ND.

THE OUTBREAI OF THE JACQUERIE.

321

is royal prison or
at Westminster,
lie sorrows of his
the Savoy, with
•as appointed for
taken to soften

*rince in Guienne
tland. Here his
ch had retreated
)avid Bruce, the
;land, an'' Baliol,
Bruce, had been
1 passed thiough
formal cessio.i of
! of Scotland, and
t he bestowed an
d and died a pen-
•eturn to England
the Scots, and a
for ten years was
es, and the li'oer-
msom of 100,000

ranee had been

•eased rather than

strove in the ab-

antagesandprivi-

ny parts, and the

)lien Marcel, and
at defiance tho
mant of the king,
eets of Paris witli
lI private security

were all lost. Great bodies of brigands devastated
the country, and the whole of France was thrown into
confusion. So terrible was the disorder that the in-
habitants of every village were obliged to fortify the
ends of their streets, and keep watch and ward as in
the cities. The proprietors of land on the banks of
rivers spent the night in boats moored in the middle
of the stream, and in every house and castle through-
out the land men reiiained armed as if against instant
attack.

Then arose the terrible insurrection known as the
Jacquerie. For centuries the peasantry of France had
suffered under a bondage to which there had never been
any approach in England. Their lives and liberties
were wholly at the mercy of their feudal lords. Hith-
erto no attempt at resistance had been possible; but the
tremendous defeat of the French f t Poitiers by a hand-
ful of English aroused the hope among the serfs that
the moment for vengeance had come. The movement
began among a handful of peasants in the ncMghbour-
hood of St. Leu and Claremont. These declared that
they would put to death all the gentlemen in the land.
The cry spread through the country. The serfs, armed
with pikes, poured out from every village, and a num-
ber of the lower classes from the towns joined them.
Their first success was an attack upon a small castle.
They burned down the gates and slew the knight to
whom it bolonued, with his wife and children of all
ages. Their numbers rapidly increased. Castle aftei
castle was taken and stormed, palaces and houses
liivelled to the ground; fire, plunder, and massaci-e
swept through the fairest provinces of France. The
peasants vied with each other in inventing deaths of
fiend 'sh cruelty svid outrage upon every man, woinan,

(264) X

:ii

322

A TERRIBLE STATE OF THINGS.

and child of the better classes who fell into their
hands.

Owing to the number of nobles who had fallen at
Cressy and Poitiers, and of those still captives in
England, very many of their wives and daughters re-
mained unprotected, and these were the especial victims
of the fiendish malignity of the peasantry. Soparatod
in many bands, the insurgents marched through tlie
Beauvoisis, Soissonois, and Vermandois; and as thoy
approached, a number of unprotected ladies of the
highest families in France Hed to Meaux, where they
remained under the guard of the young Duke of
Orleans and a handful of men-at-arms.

After the conclusion of the peace at Bordeaux, Sir
Walter Somers had been despatched on a mission to
some of the German princes, with whom the king was
in close relations. The business was not of an onerous
nature, but Walter had been detained for some time
over it. He spent a pleasant time in Germany, where,
as an emissary of the king and one of the victors of
Poitiers, the young English knight was made much
of. When he sot out on his return he joined the
Captal De Buch, who, ever thirsting for adventure,
had on the conclusion of the truce gone to serve in
a campaign in Germany; with him was the French
Count de Foix, who had been also serving through-
out the campaign.

On entering France from the Rhine the three
knights were shocked at the misery and ruin which
met their eyes on all sides. Every castle and house
throughout the country, of a class superior to those
of the peasants, was destroyed, and tales of the most
horrible outrages and murders met their ears.

"I regret," the Count de Foix said earnestly, "that I

!ii

ALARMING NEWS.

323

Rhine the three
ry and ruin which
y castle and house
superior to those
tales of the most
their ears,
d earnestly, "that I

liave been away warring in Germany, for it is clear
that every true knight is wanted at home to crush
down these human wolves."

"Methinks," the Captal rejoined, "that France will
do well to invite the chivalry of all other countries to
assemble and aid to put down this horrible insurrec-
tion."

"Ay," the Count said bitterly; "but who is to speak
in the name of France ? The Dauphin is powerless, and
the virtual government is in the hands of JVlarcel and
other ambitious traitors who hail the doings of the
Jacquerie with delight, for these mad peasants are doing
their work of destroj'ing the knights and nobles."

The villages through which they passed were de-
serted save by wonien, and in the small towns the
people of the lower class scowled threateningly at the
three knights; but they with their following of forty
men-at-arms, of whom five were followers of Walter,
fifteen of the Captal, and twenty of the Count de Foix
ventured not to proceed beyond evil glances.

"I would," de Foix said, "that these dogs would but
lift a hand against us. By St. Stephen, we would teach
them a rough lesson!"

His companions were of the same mind, for all
were excited to fury by the terrible tales which they
heard. All these stories were new to them, for al-
though rumours had reached Germany of the outbreak
of a peasant insurrection in France the movement had
but just begun when they started. As far as the
frontier they had travelled leisurely, but *hey had
hastened their pace more and more as Vney learned
how sore was the strait of the nobles and gentry of
the country and how grievously every good sword
was needed. When they reached Chaions they heard

.ill.

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:ltr;l,.

324

ARRIVAL AT MEAUX.

1 iBil

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much fuller particulars than had before reached them,
and learned that the Duchess of Normandy, the
Duchess of jrleans, and near three hundred ladies, had
sought refuge in Meaux, and that they were there
guarded but by a handful of men-at-arms under the
Duke of Orleans, while great bands of serfs were pour-
ing in from all parts of the country round to massacre
them.

Meaux is eighty miles from Chalons, but the three
knights determined to press onward with all speed
in hopes of averting the catastrophe. Allowing their
horses an hour or two to rest, they rode forward, and
pressing on without halt or delay, save such as was
absolutely needed by the horses, they arrived at
Meaux late the following night, and found to their
deliiiht that the insurgents, although swarmini; in
in;mense numbers round the town, had not yet at-
tacked it.

The arrival of the three knights and their f Jlowers
was greeted with joy by the ladies. They, with their
guard, had taken up their position in the market-house
and market-place, which were separated from the rest
of the town by the river IMarne, which flows through
the city. A. consultation was at once held, and it being
found that the Duke of Orleans had but twenty men-
at-arms with him it was determined that it was impos-
sible to defend the city walls, but that upon the follow-
ing morning they would endeavour to cut their way
with the ladies through the peasant hosts. In the
night, however, an uproar was heard in the city. The
bui-ghers had risen and had opened the gates to the
peasants, who now poured in in thousands. Every
hour increased their nund)ers.

The market-place was besieged in the morning, and

A TERRIBLE CARNAGE.

325

re reached them,
Normandy, the
ndred ladies, had
they were there
-arms under the
serfs were pour-
3und to massacre

IS, but the three
I with all speed
Allowing their
ode forward, and
lave such as was

they arrived at
d found to their
o-h swarmint' in

had not yet at-

id their f Jlowers
They, with their
the market-house
ted from the rest
ich flows through
held, and it being
but twenty men-
bat it was impos-
upon the follow-
to cut their way
t hosts. In the
in the city. The
the gates to the
ousands. Every

the morning, and

an hour or two arierwards a large body of tne ruffians
of Paris, under the conmiand of a brutal grocer named
Pierre Gille, arrived to swell their ranks.

The attack on the market-house continued, and the
Duke of Orleans held a consultation with the three
knights. It was agreed that against such a host of
enemies the market-place could not long be defended,
and that their best hope lay in sallying out and falling
upon the assailants. Accordingly the men-at-arms
were drawn up in order, with the banners of the Duke
of Orleans and the Count de Foix, and the pennons of
the Captal and Sir Walter Somers displayed, the gates
were opened, and with levelled lances the little party
rode out. Hitherto nothing had been heard save yells
of anticipated triumph and fierce imprecations and
threats against the defenders from the immense multi-
tude without; but the appearance of the orderly ranks
of the knights and men-at-arms as they issued through
the gate struck a silence of fear through the mass.

Without an instant's delay the knights and men-at-
arms, with levelled lances, charged into the multitude.
A few attempted to fight, but more strove to fly, as the
nobles and their followers, throwing away their lances,
fell upon them with sword and battle-axe. Jammed
up in the narrow streets of a small walled town, over-
throwing and impeding each other in their efforts to
escape, trampled down by the heavy horses of the men-
at-arms, and hewn down by their swords and battle-
axes, the insurgents fell in vast numbers. Multi-
tudes succeeded in escaping through the gates into the
fields; but here they were followed by the knights and
their retainers, who continued charging among them
and slaying till utter weariness coinpelled them to
cease from the pursuilfand return to Meaux. Not less

Uli

ii-. i

■! 1';'

'■ 11

32f^

INSURRFXTION IN J'ARIS.

''l [

.,1

. s

1 '

1
J

1) 1

|i 1

■f

■ ( : i'

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1 : '

than seven thousand of the insurgents had been slain
by the four knights and fifty uien, for ten had been
Icl't behind to guard the gates of the market-place.

History has no record of so vast a slaughter by so
small a body of men. This terrific punishment put a
summary end to the Jacquerie. Already in other parts
several bodies had been defeated, and their principal
leader, Caillet, with three thousand of his followers,
slain near Clermont. But the defeat at Meaux was
the crushing blow which put an end to the insurrection.

On their return to the town the knights executed
a number of the burghers who had joined the peasants,
and the greater part of the town was burned to the
ground as a punishment for having opened the gates
to the peasants and united with them.

The knights and ladies then started for Paris. On
nearing the city they found that it was threatened by
the forces of the Dauphin. Marcel had strongly fortified
the town, and with his ally, the infamous King of
Navarre, bade defiance to the royal power. However,
the excesses of the demajxoo^ue had aroused against
him the feeling of all the better class of the inhabitants.
The King of Navarro, who was ready at all times to
break his oath and betray his companions, marched his
army out of the town and took up a position outside
the walls. He then secretly negotiated peace with the
Duke of Normandy, by which he agreed to yield to
their fate Marcel and twelve of the most obnoxious
burghers, while at the same time he persuaded Marcel
that he was still attached to his interest. Marcel,
however, was able to bid higher than the Duke of
Normandy, and he entered into a new treaty with
the treacherous king, by which he stipulated to deliver
the city into his hands during £he night. Every one

WALTER RETURNS HOME.

327

within the walls, except the partisans of Marcel, upon
whose doors a mark was to be placed, were to be put
to death indiscriminately, and the King of ISavarre
was to be proclaimed King of France.

Fortunately Pepin des Essarts and John de Chamy,
two loyal knights who were in Paris, obtained informa-
tion of the plan a few minutes before the time appointed
for its execution. Arming themselves instantly, and col-
lecting a few followers, they rushed to the houses of
the chief conspirators, but found them empty, Marcel
and his companions having already gone to the gates.
Passing by the hotel- do -viHe, the knights entered,
snatched down the royal banner which was kept there,
and unfurling it mounted their horses and rode through
the streets, calling all men to arms. They reached the
Port St. Antoine just at the moment when Marcel was
in the act of opening it in order to give admission to
the Navarrese. When he heard the shouts he tried
with his friends to make his way into the bastile, but
his retreat was intercepted, and a severe and bloody
struggle took place between the two parties. Stephen
Marcel, however, was himself slain by Sir John de
Charny, and almost all his principal companions fell
with him. The inhabitants then threw open their
gates and the Duke of Normandy entered.

Walter Somers had, with his companions, joined the
army of the duke, and placed his sword at his disposal;
but when the French prince entered Paris without the
necessity of fighting, he took leave of him, and with
the Captal returned to England. Rare, indeed, were
the jewels which Walter brought home to his wife, for
the three hundred noble ladies rescued at Meaux from
dishonour and death had insisted upon bestowing tokens
of their regard and gratitude upon the rescuers, and as

■ I

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328

FRANCE rUOSTKATE.

f I

many of them belonged to tlie richest as well as the
noblest families in France the presents which Walter
thus received from the grateful ladies were of immense
value.

He was welcomed by the Ving .""nd Prince of Wales
with great honour, for the battle at Meaux had excitt-il
the admiration and astonishment of all Europe. Tln'
Jacquerie was ooasidered as a common danger in all
civilized countries; for if successful it migat have
spread far beyond the boundaries of I'raiiee, and con-
stituted a danger to chivalry, and indeed to society
universally.

Thus Kinof Edward gave the hifjhsst marks of his

O O O

satisfaction to theCaptal and Walter, added considerable
grants of land to the estates of the latter, and raised
hiri to the dignitv of Baron Somers of Wcsterham.

It has always been a matter of womler that King
Edward did not take advantage of the utter state of
confusion and anarchy which .prevailed in France to
complete his conquest of that country, which there
is no reasonable doubt he could have eifected with
ease. Civil war and strife prevailed throughout
France; famine devastated it; and without leaders or
concord, dispirited and impoverish jd b^ defeat, France
could have otf'ered no resistance to such an army
as England could have p»laced in the fieM. The o ly
probable supposition is that at lier.rt he doubti'd
wiicther the acquisition if t!ie crown of France was
really desirable, or wiiether it could be permanently
maintained should it be gained, To the monarch of
a country prosperous, flourishing, and contented, the
object of admiration throughout Europe, the union
with distracted and divided France could be of no
benefit. Of military glory he had gained enough to

|!-!:

PEACE AGREED UPON.

329

Irri

as well as the
5 which Walkr
^ere of immense

^rince of Wales
[lux had exciteil
1 Europe. Thi'
n (lani>er in all
it uii'.;at have
'ranee, and con-
dced to society

}st marks of his
ded considerable
itter, and raised
' Wcsteiham.
nder that King
le utter state of
id in France to
ry, which tliere
e eiiected witli
cd throughout
hout leaders or
defeat, France
such an army
rieW. The o. ly
■xt he doubted
of France was
)p permanently
the monarch of
contented, the
■ope, the union
could be of no
dned enough to

content any man, and some of the richest provinces
of France were already his. Therefore it may well be
believed that, feeling secure very many years must
elapse before France could again become dangerous, he
was well content to let matters continue as they were.

King John still remained a prisoner in his hands, for
the princes and nobles of France werb too much en-
gaged in broils and civil wars to think of raising the
money for his ransom, and Languedoc was the only
province of France which made any effort whatever to-
wards so doing. War still raged between the Dauphin
and the King of Navarre.

At the conclusion of the two years' truce Edward,
with the most splendidly-equipped army which had
ever left England, marched through the length and
breadth of France. Nowhere did he meet with any
resistance in the Held. He marched under the walls
of Paris, but took no steps to lay siege to that city,
which would have fallen an easy prey to his army had
he chosen to capture it. That he did not do so is
another j^roof that he had no desire to add France to
the possessions of the English crown. At length, by
the efforts of the pope, a peace was agreed upon, by
which France yielded all Aquitaine and the town of
Calais to England as an absolute possession, and not
a;-' a fief of the crown of France; while the English
king surrendered all his captures in Normandy and
Brittany and abamioned his claim to the crown of
France. With great efforts the French raised a por-
tion of the ransom demanded for the king, and John
returned to France after four years of captivity.

At the commencement of loG3 Edward the Black
Prince was named Prince of Aquitaine, and that pro-
vince was bestowed upon him as a gift by the king,

U\ II

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[ill/ '

m it

330

A BREACH OP FAITH.

subject only to lege homage and an annual tribute of
one ounce of gold. The prince took with hiin to his
new possessions many of the knights and nobles who
had served with him, and offered to Walter a high post
in the government of the province if he would accom-
pany him. This Walter begged to be excused from
doing. Two girls had now been added to his family,
and he was unwilling to leave his happy home unless
the needs of war called him to the prince's side. He
therefore remained quietly at home.

W^hen King John returned to France, four of the
French princes of the blood-royal had been given as
hostages for the fulfilment of the treaty of Bretigny.
They were permitted to reside at Calais, and were at
liberty to move about as they would, and even to absent
themselves from the town for three days at a time
whensoever they might choose. The Duke of Anjou,
the king's second son, basely took advantage of tliis
liberty to escape, in direct violation of his oath. The
other hostages followed his example.

King John, himself the soul of honour, was intensely
mortified at this breach of faith on the part of his sons,
and after calling together the states-general at Amiens
to obtain the subsidies necessary for paying the re-
maining portion of his ransom, he himself, with a train
of two hundred officers and their followers, crossed to
England to make excuses to Edward for the treachery
of the princes. Some historians represent the visit as
a voluntary returning into captivity; but this was not
so. The English king had accepted the hostages in his
plac?, and was responsible for their safe-keeping, and
had no claim upon the French monarch because they
had taken advantage of the excess of confidence with
which they had been treated. That the coming of the

! i

DEATH OF KINO JOHN.

331

nnual tribute of
with hiin to his
anil nobles who
liter a high post
le would accom-
)e excused from
sd to his family,
ppy home unless
:ince*s side. He

nee, four of the
d been given as
iaty of Bretigny.
lais, and were at
id even to absent
days at a time
Duke of Anjou,
id vantage of this
f his oath. The

ur, w^as intensely
part of his sons,
eneral at Amiens
■ paying the re-
solf , with a train
owers, crossed to
'or the treachery
sent the visit as
but this was not
le hostages in his
lafe-keeping, and
ch because they
confidence with
he coming of the

French king was not in any way regarded as a re-
turn into captivity is shown by the fact that he was
before starting furnished by Edward with letters of
safe-conduct, by which his secure and unobstructed
return to his own country was oxi)re.ssly stipulated,
and he was received by Edward as an i.onoured guest
and friend, and his coming was regarded as an honour
and an occasion for festivity by all England.

At the same time that John was in London the
King of Cyprus, the King of Denmark, and the King of
Scotland were also there, and the meeting of four mon-
archs in London was the occasion of extraordinary
festivities and rejoicing, the king and his royal guests
being several times entertained at sumptuous banquets
by the lord-mayor, the ex-mayor Henry Pickard, and
several of the aldermen.

Six weeks after John's arrival in London he was
seized with illness at the palace of the Savoy, and
died on the 8th of April, L*](j4. The Dauphin, Charles,
now succeeded him as Charles V., and the war between
the houses of Navarre and Valois was carried on with
greater fury than ever. The armies of Navarre were
commanded by the Captal de Buch, who was a distant
relation of the king; while those of Charles were
headed by the Man'chal de Boucicault and Bertrand
du Guesclin, one of the most gallant of the French
knights. A great battle was fought near Cocherel.
Contrary to the orders of the Captal, his army, which
consisted principally of adventurers, descended from
the strong position he had chosen, and gave battle in
the plain. They were completely defeated, and the
Captal himself taken prisoner.

In Brittany John of Montford and Charles of Blois
had renewed their struggle, and King Charles, seeing

1 I

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332

OLD ADVKUSAUlliS.

the danger of Brittany falling into the hands of Do
Montford, who wan a close ally of England, intcrrercd
in favour of Charles of Blois, and sent Du Gueselin to
his assistance.

This was a breach of the treaty of Bretigny, and Do
Montford at once sent to the Black I'rince for assis-
tance. 'J'he I'rinte did not treat the conduct of Charles
as a breach of" the treaty, and took no part himself in the
war, hut permitted Sir John Chandos, who was a per-
sonal f ."iend of J^e Montford, to go to his aid. De Mont-
ford's army, after the arrival of Chandos with 200
spears, amounted to hut 1 tiOO men-at-arms and from <S00
to 900 archers, while Charles of Blois had 4000 men-
at-arms and a propoitionate number of infantry. J)e
Montford tried to negotiate. He offered to divide the
dukedom, and to agree that in case he died childless
it should revert to the family of Charles. Charles,
however, refused all terms, even to grant his adversar3''s
request to put off the battle until the morrow, so as to
avoid violating the Sabbath; and having given orders
that all prisoners taken in the battle should be hung,
he advanced upon De Montford.

Both forces were divided in four bodies. The first
on De Montfbrd's side was commanded by Sir Robert
Knolles, the second by Oliver de Clisson, the third by
Chandos and De Montford, the fourth by Sir Hugh de
Calverley. Du Gueselin led the front division of
Charles's armj^ the Counts of Auxerre and Joigny the
second, Charles himself the third, and the Lorils of
Roye and Rieux the reserve. The ducal arms of Brit-
tany were displayed on both sides.

By slow degrees the two armies closed with each
other in deadly strife. Both parties had dismounted
and fought on foot with lances shortened to five

] . I

DKFKAT OF CIIAULES OF I'.I.OIS.

a 33

ho hands of Do
;,'lan(l, intortbvi'd
) Du Ciue.sclin to

ircti<;ny, and De
I'rinco tor assis-
nduet of Charles
irt himself in the
, who was a per-
is aid. De Moiit-
landos with 200
i-nis and from SOO
s had 4000 men-
of infantry. De
red to divide the
he died childh'ss
Jharle.s. Charles,
nt his adversary's

morrow, so as to
^inij fjiven orders

should be hung,

lodies. The first
I by Sir Robert

on, the third by
by Sir Hugh de

ront division of
and Joigny the

id the Lords of

cal arms of Brit-

ilosed with ench
had dismounted
ortened to five

feet. Du Guosclin and his division attacked that of
Knolles. Auxerre fell upon })g ( 'lissoii, while tiie
divisions of the two rival princes closed with each
other. After desperate lighting nundjers prevailed. De
Montford was driven hack, but Calverlcy ndvanccd to
his aid, fell uiion the rear of the French, threw them
into disorder, and then having rallied' De Montford's
men, retired to his former position in readiness to give
succour again where it might be needed.

In the meantime Clisson had been engaged in a des-
perate struggle with the Count of Auxei-re, but was oh-
taining no advantage. Clisson himself Imd received tlio
blow of a battle-axe which had dashed in the vizor of
liis helmet and blinded forever one of his eyes. He was
still leading his men, but the enemies' .superior numbers
were pressing him back, when Chandos, the instant the
assistance of Calverley had relieved Do Montford's di-
vision, perceiving his danger, drew off a few men-
at-arms, and with them fell upon the rear of the
Count of Auxerre, and dashing all who opposed him
to the ground with his battle-axe, cleft his way to the
very centre of the enemy. Pressed by De Clisson in
front and broken by the sudden attack of Chandos in
the rear, the French division gave way in every direc-
tion. Auxerre was desperately wounded, and he and
De Joignj'- both taken prisoners.

Chandos then returned to De Montford, who had
gallantly followed up the advantage gained by the con-
fusion into which Charles's division had been thrown
by the attack of Calverley. Charles was routed; he
himself struck down and slain by an English soldier,
and the division defeated vnth great slaughter. De
Montford's whole force now gathered round Du Gues-
clin's division, which now alone remained, and after

■ i. !'

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??A

AN OLD QUARREL ENDED.

tightino; gallantly unt\l all hope was gone, the brave
I'reneh knight and his companions yielded themselves
as prisoners.

The battle of Auray terminated the struggle between
the houses of Blois and Montford. More than 1000
French men-at-arms died on the field, among whom
were many of the noblest in Brittany. Two counts, 27
lords, and 1500 men-at-arms were made prisoners. De
Montford now took possession of the whole ci Brittany,
and at the suggestion of King Edward himself did
homage to Charles V. for the duchy, which he after-
wards ruled with wisdom.

I 'I

i I'J

CHAPTER XXIL

VICTORY AND DEATH.

HILE the Black Prince was with difficulty
governing his province of Aquitaine, where
the mutual jealousies of the English and
native officers caused continual difficulties,
King Edward turned all his attention to
advancing the prosperity of England. He fostered
trade, commerce, and learning, was a, munificent patron
of the two universities, and established such order and
regularity in his kingdom that England was the
admiration of all Europe. Far different wod the sfate
of France. The cessation of the wars with England,
and the subsequent disbandment of troops had thrown
upon their own resources great numbers of men who
had been so long engaged in fighting that they had
no other trade to turn to. The conclusion of the struggle
in Brittany after the battle of Auray and the death of
Charles of Blois still further added to the number, and
these men gathered in bands, some of which were
headed by men of knightly rank, and scattered through
France plundering the country and extracting heavy
sums from the towns.

These " great companies," as they were called, ex-
ceeded 50,000 men in number, and as almost all were

336

PEDRO THE CRUEL.

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trained soldiers they set the king and his nobles at
detiance, and were virtually masters of France. The
most tempting offers were made to them to lay down
their arms, and the pope sent legates threatening
excommunication, but the great companies laughed
alike at promises and threats. At last a way of de-
liverance opened to France. Pedro, named the Cruel,
of Castile, had alienated his people by his cruelty, and
had defeated and driven into exile his half-brother,
Henry of Transtamare, who headed an insurrection
against him. Pedro put to death numbers of the
nobles of Castile, despoiled the King of Arragon, who
had given aid to his brother, plundered and insulted
the clergy, and allied himself with the Moors.

His quarrel with the clergy was the cause of his
ruin. The pope summoned him to appear before him
at Avijjnon to answer to the crimes laid to his charjje.
Pedro refused to attend, and the pope at once excom-
municated him. The King of Arragon and Henry of
Transtamare were then summoned to Avignon, and a
treaty of alliance was concluded between thom, and the
pope declared the throne of Castile vacant owing to
the excommunication of Pedro, and appointed Henry
to it.

These measures would have troubled Pedro little had
it not been that France groaned under the great com-
panies, and the French king and the pontiff at once
entered into negotiations with them to support Henry
in his war against his brother. It was necessary that
a leader in whom the companies should have confidence
should be chosen, and Du Guesclin, still a prisoner of
Chandos, who had captured him at Auray, was selected,
and the pope, the King of France, and Don Henry,
paid between them the 100,000 francs demanded for

THE GREAT COMPANIES.

337

!'i

his nobles at
France. The
1 to lay down
i threatening
mies laughed
a way of de-
led the Cruel,
is cruelty, and
4 half-brother,
n insurrection
mbers of the
Arragon, who
i and insulted
floors.

e cause of his
ear before him
I to his charge,
at once excom-
l and Henry of
^vinnon, and a
1 thorn, and the
leant owing to
pointed Henry

'edro little had
the great com-
pontiti' at once
support Henry
necessary that
lave confidence
1 a prisoner of
y, was selected,
d Don Henry,
demanded for

his ransom. Du Guesclin on his release negotiated
with the leaders of the great companies, and as the
pope and king promised them large gratuities they
agreed to march upon Spain. They were joined by a
great number of French knights and men-at-arms.

The expedition was under the nominal command of
John of Bourbon, but the real guidance was in tne hands
of Du Guesclin. As the army marched past Avignon
they worked upon the terrors of the pope until he paid
them 200,000 francs in gold. France was filled with joy
at the prospect of a riddance of the free companies
which had so long been a prey upon them. They were,
too, eager to avenge upon the cruel King of Spain the
murder of his queen, who was a princess of France.
The same feeling animated the people of Aquitaine,
and Calverley, D'Ambrecicour*-, Sir Walter Hewitt, Sir
John Devereux, Sir John Neville, and several other
distinguished knights, with a large train of men-at-
arms, joined the adventurers. The great army moved
through Arragon, whose king in every way facilitated
their progress. As they entered Castile the whole
people declared in favour of Henry, and Pedro, deserted
by all, fled to Bordeaux and besought aid from the
Prince of Wales.

Between Pedro and the English 20urt a firm alliance
had existed from the time when the former so nearly
married the Princess Joan, and immediately the king
heard of the expedition against him he issued orders
that no English knights should take part in it. The
order, however, came too late. The English knights
had already marched into Spain with Du Guesclin.
As for the English who formed no inconsiderable por-
tion of the great companies, they had already declined
to obey the king, when, at the instance of the pope

(2ft4) " Y

I '

\-\

I '•

338

DON I'EDliO A SUri'LIANT.

I, :^i

1:1

and the Kins: of France, he had ordered them to (lis-
bund.

On Pedro's arrival at Bordeaux with his tlirce
<luui,diicr,s ;u\(\ lii^> son, tliey were kindly received by
the Dlack Prince, courtesy and kindness to those in
misfortune heiiii' anionif the loading; characteristics of
his nature. Pedro, cruel and ruthless as he was, was
a man of great eloquence and insinuating manners,
and giving his own version of affairs, lie completely won
over the prince, v.'ho felt himself, moreover, bound in
some degree to support him, inasmuch as he, fii\ ally
of England, had been dethroned by an army composed
partly of English. Pedro made the most magniticent
promises to the prince in return for his aid, ceding him
the whole of the province of Biscay, and agreeing to
pay the British troops engaged in his service when he
regained his throne, the Black Prince engaging to pay
them in the meantime.

King Edward aided his son by raising an army in
England, which sailed foi' Bordeaux under the command
of the prince's l)rother, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lan-
caster. Walter formed part of this expedition. The
king had issued his writs to liim and other l>arons of
the southern counties, and the Black Prince had him-
self written to ask him to join him, in memory of their
former deeds of arms toiirether.

As it was now soine years since he had taken the
field, Walter did not hesitate, but with thirty re-
tainers, headed by Hal i)h, joined the army of John of
Gaunt.

The Black Prince's first step Wfis to endeavour to
recall the Englishmen of the free companies, estimated
to amount to at least .'JO.OOO men. The news that he
was taking uj) arms and would himself command the

THE ADVANCE INTO SPAIN.

339

red them to (lis-

ftrniy caused Calverley and the whole of t]ie other
English knights to return at once, and 10,000 of the
English mcn-at-arins with the great companies also left
Don Henry and inarched to Aquitaine. The road led
through the territory of the King of Navarre, and the
Black Prince a.dvaticed 50,000 Horins of gold to pay
this grasping and treacherous king for the right of
passage of the army.

By Christmps, loGG, the preparations were complete,
but the severity of the weather delayed the advance
for some weeks. - Fresh difiiculties were encountered
with Charles the Bad, of Navarre, who, having obtained
the price for the passage, had now opened negotiations
with Don Henry, a i the governors of the frontier
towns refused to allow Sir Hugh Calverley and the
free companies, who formed the advance, to pass.
These were not, however, the men to stand on cere-
mony, and without hesitation they attacked and cap-
tured the towns, when the King of Navarre at once
apologized for his officers, and renewed his engage-
ments. As, however, the Black Prince had received
intelligence that he had formed a plan for attacking
the English as they passed through the terrible pass
of Roncesvalles, he compelled him to accompany the
army. The invitation was couched in language which
was friendly, but would yet admit of no denial.

On the 17th of February the English army, 80,000
strong, reached the pass. It marched in three divisions,
the first commanded by the Duke of Lancaster and
Lord Chandos, the second by the Black Prince, the
third by the King of Majorca and the Count of Arma-
gnac. The divisions crossed over on different days,
for the pass was encumbered by snow and the obstacles
were immense. Upon the day when the prince's division

!^ ^

340

A BATTLE IMMIXENT.

'.: I

were passing a storm burst upon them, and it was with
the greatest ditKculty that they succeeded in crossing.
On tlie 20th of February, however, all arrived safe on
the other side of the Pyrenees. Du Guesclin, who,
seeing the storm which was approaching from Aqui-
taine, had returned to France and levied a French army,
was nigh at hand, and kept within a few miles of the
English army as it advanced, avoiding an engagement
until the arrival of Don Henry, who was marching to
join him with the great companies and G0,000 Spanish
troops.

Du Guesclin kept up secret communications with
the King of Navarre, who was still forced to accom-
pany the English army. The latter accordingly went
out from the camp under pretence of liunting and was
captured by a detc>chment of French troops.

On the 1st of April, the Spanish army having joined
the French, the Black Prince sent letters to Don
Henry, urging him in mild but dignified language to
return to obedience, and to resign the throne he had
usurped, offering at the same time to act as mediator
between him and his brother, and to do all in his power
to remove differences and abuses. Henry, confident
in his strength, replied haughtily and prepared for
battle.

The forces were extremely unequal. The BlacV
Prince had under him 30,000 men; while under Don
Henry were 3000 men-at-arms on mail-clad horses,
20,000 men-at-arms on horses not so protected, 6000
light cavalry, 10,000 crossbow-men, and 60,000 foot
armed with spear and s\. ord.

The night before the battle the Black Prince lodged
in the little village of Navarretta, which had been
deserted by its inhabitants. Walter had been his close

WALTEll AND THE BLACK PRINCE.

341

companion since he started, and occupied the same
lodging with him in the vilhige.

" This reminds me," the prince said, " of the day
before Cressy. Tlicy outnumber us by more than three
to one."

" There were greater odds still," Walter replied, " at
Poitiers, and I doubt not that we .shall make as good
an example of them."

" They are more doughty adversaries," the prince
replied. "There are nigh :iO,000 English in their ranks
— all veterans in war — and they are led by Du Gues-
clin, who is a host in himself."

" Their very numbers will be a hindrance to them,"
Vf alter replied cheerfully; "and never did I see a better
army than that which you have under you. I would
we were fighting for a better man, for Don Pedro is
to my mind treacherous as well as cruel. He promises
fairly, but I doubt if when he has gained his end he
will keep his promises. He speaks fairly and smoothly,
but his deeds are at variance with his words."

"It may be, my lord," the prince replied, "that I
am somewhat of your opinion, and that I regret I so
quickly committed myself to his cause. However, he
was my father's ally, and having fulfilled all his en-
gagements had a riffht to demand our assistance. I am
a bad hand, Walter, at saying no to those who beseech
me.

" It is so, Sir Prince," Walter said bluntly. " Would
that your heart had been a less generous one, for your
nobleness of disposition is ever involving you in debts
which liamper you sorely, and cause more trouble
to you than all your enemies!"

" That is true enough," the Black Prince said with a
sigh. " Since I was a boy I have ever been harassed

li'i

!■'*: ■ ;

342

DOUBTS OF DON PEDRO'S HONESTY.

)'\'

iij

Ri.''';- ■

niji- it.

with creditors; and though all Aquitaine is mine, I
verily believe that there is not a man in my father's
dominions who is so harassed and sa-aitened for money
: ' I."

"And yet," \V 'It 3r sr^n^ r,,- ing, "no sooner do you
get it than you give i^ aw

"Ah!" the prince laughc 1, "I . -^not deny it. It
is so nmch plcasanter to give than to pay, that I can
never tind heart to balk myself. 1 am ever surrounded
by suitors. Some have lost estates in my cause, otiiers
have rendered brilliant services in the field, some have
burdened themselves with debts <".o put their retainers
in arms — all have pleas to urge, and for the life of
me I cannot say them nay. I trust, though," he added
more seriously, "that Don Pedro will fullil his promises
to pay my army. I have bound myself to my soldiers
for their waives, besides advancimj laroe sums to Pedro,
and if he keeps not his engagements I shall indeed be
in a sore strait."

"There is one thing," Walter said; "if he fail to
keep his promi^^es, we will not fail to oblige him to do
so. If we win a kingdom for him, w^e can snatch it
from him again."

' We have not won it yet," the prince said.

"We will do so to-morrow," Walter rejoined confi-
dently. "I hope the fortunes of the day may bring me
face to face with Du Guesclin. I am thrice as strong
as when I fought at Cressy, and I should like to try my
liaiid against this doughty champion."

The next morning the two armies prepared for
battle, the Black Prince dividing his army as before.
The divisions were commanded as in the passage of
the Pyrenees, and each numbered 10,000 men.

Don Henry had also divided his force in throe

Tin: ItATri.E OF NAVAliRKTTA.

is mine, I
my father's

I for money

)ner do you

leny it. It
that I can
surrounded
ause, others
, some have
jir retainers
the lite of
I," he added
liis promises
my soldiers
ns to Pedro,

II indeed be

: he fail to
;e him to do
m snatch it

id.

oined confi-
ly bring me
ce as sti'ong
ce to try my

repared for

y as before.

I passage of

len.

ce in throe

[)arts. In the firs* divis; n, commanded by Du Guosclin,
were '■1000 veteran French knights and men-at-arms
v'th 8000 fool-soldiers; tho iect'ud was led by the
prince's brother, Don Tillo, with 10,000 hoi'se; while
he himself commanded the third, in wliich were a
multitude of soldiers, making up the gross total of
100,000 men.

As on thj night preceding the l)nttle of Poitiers, the
English army had lain down supperluss. Soon after
midnight the trumpets sounded, and the troops soon
moved forward. At sunrise the ])rince and his forces
reached the summit of a little hill, whmce was visible
the approaching host of tSpain. The iirst division,
under the Du) j of Lancaster and Lord Chandos, ini-
mediately quickened its pace and charged the division
of Du Guesclin, which received it with great steadiness,
and a desperate conflict ensued. The Black Prince
charged the division of Don Tillo, which gave way at
the tirst attack, and its commander, with 2000 horse,
at once fled. The remainder of the division resisted
for some time, but was unable to withstand the steady
advance of the English, who without much difficulty
dispersed and scattered it from the held. The King
of Majorca now joined his division with that of the
Black Prince, and the two advanced against the great
division led by Don Henry.

The Spanish slingers opened upon the advancing
force and for a time annoyed them greatly, but when
the En'jlish archers arrived within bow-shot and
opened fire they speedily dispersed the slingers, and
the men-at-arms on both sides advanced to the attack.
The conflict was long and des])erate, and both sides
fought with great gallantry and determination. Don
Pedro — v;ho, although vicious and cruel, was bravs —

' I

|i:''

|!./

':il|

lU i : i

344

THE TEKIL OF LOUD CHAN DOS.

fought in the ranks as a common soldier, frequently
cutting his way into the midst of the Spaniards, and
shouting to Don Henry to cross swords with him.
Henry on his part fought with great valour, although,
as lie had the burden of command upon him, he was
less able to distinguish himself by acts of personal
prowess. Though lighting in the thickest of the press,
he never lost his grasp of the general purfjoso of tlie
battle. Three times, when his troops wavered before
the assaults of the Black Prince and his knights, ha
rallied them and renewed the light.

While this battle was raging, a not less obstinate
fight was proceeding between the divisions of Lancaster
and Du Guesclin. For a long time victory was doubtful,
and indeed inclined towards the side of the French.
The ranks of both parties were broken, and all were
fighting in a confused mass, when, in the midst of the
melt^e, a body of French and Spaniards poured in upon
the banner of Chandos. He was struck to the ground,
and a gigantic Castilian knight fiuug himself upon
him and strove to slay him as he held him down.
Chandos had lost sword and battle-axe, but drawing
his dagger, he held with one hand his opponent's
sword-arm, and at last, after repeated strokes with his
dagger, he found an undefended part of his armour
and pierced him with his dagger to the hilt. The
Spaniard relaxed his hold, and Chandos, throwing him
off, struggled to his feet and rejoined his friends, who
had thought him dead. They now fought with more
enthusiasm than ever, and at last, drivincj back the
main body of the French knights, isolated a body of
some sixty strong, and forced them to surrender.
Among these were Du Guesclin himself, the Marshal
D'Audenham, and the Bigue de Vilaines.

THE ENGLISH VICTORY.

345

As these were the leaders of the aivision, the main
l)0(ly lost spirit and fought feebly, and were soon com-
pletely routed by Lancaster and Cliandos. These now
turned their attention to the other part of the field whore
the battle was still raging, and ehargcd down upon the
Hank of Don Henry's army, which was already waver-
ing. The Spaniards gave way at once on every side,
and ere long the whole were scattered in lieadlong
rout, hotly pursued by the English. The greater por-
tion tied towards the town of Xajarra, where they had
slept the previous night, and here vast quantities were
slaughtered by the English and Gascons. A number
of prisoners were taken, and the palace and town
sacked. The pursuit was kept up the whole day, and
it was not until evening that the leaders began once
more to assemble round the banner of the Prince of
Wales. Among the last who arrived was Don Pedro
himself. Springing from his charger he grasped the
hand of the Prince of Wales, thanking him for his
victory, which he felt would restore him to his
throne.

" Give thanks and praise to God, and not to me," the
prince replied, " for from him, and not from me, you
have received victory."

About 8000 men fell in the battle, the loss of the
English, French, and Spaniards being nearly equal;
but many thousands of the latter fell in the pursuit,
and as many moi'e were drowned in endeavouring to
cross the river Ebro. Don Henry escaped after lighting
till the last, and reaching the French territory in safety
took refuge in the Papal court of Avignon.

Upon the morning after the battle Don Pedro re-
quested the Black Prince to give him up all the Cas-
tilian prisoners, in order that he might put them to

346

THE KNIOIIT OK TlIK HAVKN.

!!'

iii!,!

r*; ;|

deatli. The prince, liowcvor, was always oppos(>(l to
cruelty, and asked and obtained as a hoon to hiiuHelf
that the lives of all the Spanish prisoners, with the
exception of one whose conduct hud been marked with
peculiar treachery, should be sjjiired, and even induced
Tedro to ^..irdon them alto;;ether on tlieir swearini;
fealty to him. Even Don Sancho, Pedro's brother,
who had four,dit at Najarra under Don Henry, was
received and embraced by Pedro at the request of the
Prince of Wales. The city of Burgos at um^e opened
its <^ates, and the rest of the country followed its ex-
ample, and resumed its alle^^jiance to Pedro, who re-
nmunted his throne without further n^sistance.

As Walter had fought by the side of the Black
Prince his desire to cross swords with Du Guesclin was
not satisfied; but his valour during the day won for
him the warm approbation of the prince. Opposeil to
them were many of the great companies, and these
men, all experienced soldiers and many of them Eng-
lishmen, had fought with great stubbornness. Walter
had singled out for attack a banner bearing the cogni-
zance of a raven. The leader of this band, who was
known as the Knight of the Raven, had won for him-
self a specially evil notoriety in France by the ferocity
of his conduct. Wherever his band went they had s^vept
the country, and the most atrocious toitui-es had been
inflicted on all well-to-do persons who had fallen into
their hands, to extract from them the secret of buried
hoards or bonds, entailing upon them the loss of their
last penny.

The Knight of the Eaven himself was said to be as
brave as he was cruel, and several nobles who had
attempted to oppose his band had been defeated and
slain by him. He was known to be English, but his

s opposed to
[m to hiinsolf
urs, with tho
iiiarked with
even inchiced
leir swearini;
Iro's brother,
I Henry, was
eqnest of the

once opened
lowed its cx-
^dro, who re-
tance.

)f the Black
Guesclin was

day won for
Opposeil to
es, and these
Df theni Eng-
ness. Walter
inur the cogni-
and, who was
won for hini-
ly the ferocity
hey had swept
u)"es had been
id fallen into
5ret of buried
3 less of their

? said to be as

bles who had

defeated and

ij^lish. but his

I'l

I M

Wu I

;ii

If'.

I i

*Wl

mwr

A SINGLE COMBAT.

347

^s«l

?l^,l'

.n!

^ §;v^<-

L^-

--*•>

t*'

ii'->-

>)*^

■^^N
»^-.^>

name was a mystery; and the Black Prince and his
knights had long wished to encounter a man who was
a disgrace alike to chivalry and the English name.
When, theiefore, Walter saw his banner in the king's
division he urged his horse towards it, and, followed by
Ralph and some thirty men-at-arms, hewed his way
through the crowd until he was close to the banner.

A knight in gray armour spurred forward to meet
him, and a desperate conflict took place. Never had
Walter crossed swords with a stoutoi' adversary, and
his opponent fought with as much vehemence and fury
as if the sight of Walter's banner, which Ralph carried
behind him, had aroused in him a frenzy of rage and
hate. In guarding his head from one of his opponent's
sweeping blows Walter's sword shivered at the hilt;
but before the Gray Knight could repeat the blow
W^alter snatched his heavy battle-axe from his saddle.
The knight reined back his horse for an instant, and
imitated his example, and with these heavy weapons
the tight was renewed. The Knioht of the Raven had
lost by the change, for Walter's great strength stood
him in good stead, and presently with a tremendous blow
he beat down his opponent's axe and cleft through his
helmet almost to the chin.

The knight fell dead from his horse, and Walter,
with his band pressing on, carried confusion into the
ranks of his followers. When these had been defeated
Walter rode back with Ralph to the spot where the
Knijcht of the Raven had fallen.

"Take off his helmet, Ralph. Let me see his face.
Methinks I recognized his voice, and he fought as if
tie knew and hated me."

Ralph removed the helmet.

"It is as I thought," Walter said; "it is Sir James

H-'.i

,1.11

348

AN OLD £N£MY.

Carnegie, a recreant and villain knight and foul enemy
of mine, a disgrace to his name and rank, but a brave
man. So long as he lived I could never say that my
life was safe from his machinations. Thank God, thert
is an end of him and his evil doings !"

Walter was twice wounded in the fight, but upon
neither occasion seriously, and he was soon able to take
part in the tournaments and games which the Prince
of Wales instituted partly to keep his men employed,
partly for the amusement of the citizens of Liu-« s,
outside whose walls his army lay encamped.

The prince was now obliged to remind the king of
his promise to pay his troops; but nothing was farther
from the mind of the treacherous monarch than to carry
out the promises which he had made in exile. He dared
not, however, openly avow his intentions; but, trusting
to the chapter of accidents, he told the prince that at
Burgos he could not collect a sufficient sum; but if the
army would march into Leon and take up their quarters
near Valladolid, he himself would proceed to Seville,
and would as soon as possible collect the money which
he had bound himself to furnish. The plan was adopted.
Edward marched his troops to Valladolid, and Don
Pedro went to Seville.

Some time passed on without the arrival of the pro-
mised money, and the prince was impatient to return
to Aquitaiue. Don Henry had gathered a force in
France, secretly assisted by the French king, and had
made an inroad into A(]uitaine, where he obtained
several successes, and was joined by many of the
disinterested nobles of that province.

" You were right," the prince said to Walter one day;
" this treacherous king, who owes his kingdom to us, in-
tends to break his plighted word. I know not what to

ATTACKED BY PESTli^fiNCE.

349

foul enemy

»ut a brave

y that my

God, tlieit

1, but upon
ible to take
the Prince
I employed,
of Luii^H^s,
L

the king of
was farther
ban to carry
!. He dared
)ut, trusting
ince that at
i; but if the
leir quarters
1 to Seville,
toney which
,vas adopted,
d, and Don

I of the pro-
it to return
a force in
ng, and had
he obtained
lany of the

Iter one day ;
oin to us, in-
not what to

do; my men are clamorous for their pay, and I am unable
to satisfy them. Don Pedro still sends fair proinises,
and although I believe in my heart that he has no
intention of keeping them, yet I can hardly march
against him as an enemy, for, however far from the
truth it may be, his pretext that the treasury has been
emptied by his brother, and that in the disturbed state
of the kingdom no money can be obtained, may yet be
urged as valid."

Scarcely had the army encamped before Valladolid
when a terrible pestilence attacked the army. For a
while all questions of pay were forgotten, and consterna-
tion and dismay seized the troops. Neither rank nor
station was of avail, and the leadei*s suffered as severely
as the men. Every day immense numbers died, and
so sudden were the attacks, and so great the mor-
tality, that the soldiers believed that Don Pedro had
poisoned the wells in order to rid himself of the neces-
sity of fulfilling his obligations.

The Black Prince himself was prostrated, and lay for
some time between lii'e and death. A splendid constitu-
tion enabled him to pull through, but he arose from his
bed enfeebled and shattered, and although for some
years he lived on, he received his death-blow at Valla-
dolid. His personal strength never came to him again,
and even his mind was dulled and the brightness of his
intellect dimmed from the effects of the fever. When he
recovered sufficiently to inquire into the state of his
forces, he was filled with sorrow and dismay. Four-fifths
of the number were either dead or so weakened as to be
useless for service ngain. The prince wrote urgently to
Don Pedro for the money due; but the king knew that
the English were powerless now, and replied that he
had not been able to collect the money, but would

350

AN ACT OF MAGNANIMITY.

1 I

forward it to Aquitaine, if the prince would return
there with his array. Edward knew that he lied, but
with only 6000 or 7000 men, many of whom were
enfeebled by disease, he was not in a position to force
the claim, or to punish the base and ungrateful king.
Again, therefore, he turned his face north.

Charles of Navarre had now allied himself with Don
Henry, and refused to allow the remnants of the army
to pass through his dominions, although he granted
permission to the prince himself and his personal at-
tendants and friends. The southern route was barred
by the King of Arragon, also an ally of Don Henry;
but with him the prince was more successful. He had
a personal interview with the monarch, and so influenced
him that he not only obtained permission for his troops
to pass through his dotiiinions, but detached him ^ ^m
his alliance with Don Henry, and induced him to enter
into a friendly treaty with Pedro.

A greater act of magnanimity was never performed.
In spite of the base ingratitude with which he had
been treated, and the breach of faith which saddled
him with enormous liabilities and debts, which weighed
him down and embittered the rest of his life, Edward
remained faithful to the cause of his father's ally,
and did his best to maintain him in the position
which English valour had won for him. He himself
with a few companions pa&sed through Navarre, and
arrived safely in Bordeaux, where his wife awaited
him, and where he was received v;itli rejoicings and
festivities in honour of his glorious ctaipaign in
Spain.

His health was now irreparably itiju 'ed. Troubles
ca,ir'» th'r'k upon him in Aquitaine, uud he had no
longer tho ene:',.:y to repress them. Risings took place in

THE DKATIl (»F THE I'.LACK IMUNCE.

351

would return
at he lied, but
)f whom were
)sition to force
igrateful king.
,h.

iself with Don
ts of the army
^h he granted
is personal ti-
ate was barred
f Don Henry;
ssf ul. He had
id so influenced
ri for his troops
ched him ^ ^m
)d him to enter

sver performed,
which he had
which saddled
which weighed
is life, Edward
3 father's ally,
1 the position
He himself
Navarre, and
wife awaited
rejoicings and
I ctaipaign in

•ed Troubles
,iid he had no
gs took place in

all (liroctions, and the King of France renewed the war.
In addition to Ills own troubles from the debts he had
incurred, and the enemies who rose ajrainst him, he
was further shaken by the death of his mother Philippa,
whom he tenderly loved. His friend Chandos, too,
was killed in a skirmish. Unhappily, while thus wea-
kened in mind and body the treachery of the bishop
and people of Limoges, who, having bound themselves
by innumerable promises to him, surrendered their
city to the French, caused him to commit the one act
of cruelty which sullied the brightness of an otherwise
unspotted career, for at the recapture of the town
he bade his soldiers give no quarter.

This act, although common enough at the time, is
so opposed to the principles of mercy and humanity
which throughout all the previous acts of his life distin-
guishe(' the conduct of the Black Prince that it cannot
be doubted that his brain was ati'ected by the illness
which was fast hurrying him to the grave. Shortly
afterwards he returned to Enijiand, and busied himself
in arramjinj; tlie afiairs of the Lintjdom, which his
father's failing health had permitted to fall into dis-
order. For the remaining fc "r years of life he lived in
seclusion, and sank on the iSth of June, 1376.

Walter, Lord Soniers, returned home after the con-
clusion of the campaign in Spain, and rode no more to
the wars.

Giles Fletcher and his wife had died some years
before, out the good citizen Geoli'rey the armourer,
whf u he grew into years, abamhmed his calling, and
took up his abode at Westerham Castle to the time of
his death.

In the wars which afterwards occurred with France
Walter was represented in the field by his sons, who

if '.;;

352

LORD AND LADY SOMERS.

well sustained the high reputation which their father
had home as a good and valiant knight. He and his
wife lived to a jjreen old aije, reverenced and beloved
by their tenants and retainers, and died surrounded *
by their descendants to the fourth generation.

liW;i

m'l

THB ENIX

1 their father
He and his
and beloved
I surrounded *
.tion.