Cressy and Poictiers

CHAPTER XXXIII

NO ROAD

Autumn deepened into winter, and winter was succeeded by spring; and spring ripened and mellowed into summer, with its long, bright, merry days: and every month rumour brought to the camp of the English before Calais tidings that Philip of Valois was coming with a mighty army to relieve the beleaguered town. But month followed month, and season succeeded to season, and still Philip failed to make his appearance; and the warriors of England, growing somewhat vain-glorious, exclaimed with sneers that "hawks come not where eagles hold eyrie;" and the Calesians, on the verge of famine, well-nigh gave way to despair, when suddenly, on a summer day, news reached the camp that the foe, so long looked for, was at last coming, with princes, dukes, and counts, and an overwhelming force at his back, to save Calais and avenge Cressy.

It was a little before Whitsuntide, when Philip of Valois, having summoned all the knights and squires of France to assemble at Amiens, repaired to that city with his sons, the Dukes of Normandy and Orleans, held a grand council of war, and, after much deliberation, resolved to march to the relief of Calais. But, with some vague idea of the difficulties to be encountered – for all his ideas of war were vague – he sent ambassadors to Flanders, and asked for part of his army a free passage through the Flemish territory, his object being to send troops by way of Gravelines, that they might reach Calais on that side, fight with the English and reinforce the garrison. But the Flemings, not to be tempted from their fidelity to the King of England, decidedly refused to comply with the request; and Philip, baffled as to this part of his project, determined to push forward his enterprise by advancing towards Boulogne.

At Arras, however, he took up his quarters for a short time to gather in the forces which were hastening to his standard; and from Arras he advanced slowly to Hesdin, his army and baggage extending over three miles of country. Resting at Hesdin for a day, he moved forward to Blangy, and, having again halted at that place to mature his plans, he threw off hesitation, passed through the country of Faukenberg, and leading his men straight to Sangate, posted them on the hills, between Calais and Wissant.

It will readily be imagined that, at this time, the excitement in the camp of the English was high. Impressive, moreover, was the spectacle which the army of Philip presented to those who rode out to watch their movements. Night had fallen when the French took up their ground, and I can bear witness that it was a beautiful sight to see their banners waving and their arms glistening in the moonlight.

"A most noble army, my lord," remarked Sir Thomas Norwich to the Prince of Wales, with whom and a body of riders he had come to view the approach of the foe.

"A most noble army on my faith!" replied the prince, with admiration. "But," added he, after a pause, "it can avail Calais naught. The position of my lord the king is too strong to be attacked with advantage by mortal man, and Philip of Valois must either retire without striking a blow, or prove himself mad by rushing on destruction, and leading his followers like sheep to the slaughter."

Nor, in speaking in a tone so confident, was the prince guilty of aught like presumption. Nothing, in truth, which skill, and prudence, and labour could do to render the English army absolutely secure, had been left undone by the English king. At the commencement of the siege there were two roads by which the French might have approached Calais. One of these was by the downs along the sea-shore, and the other by the bridge of Nieullet, which afforded a passage over the marshes and ditches further up the country. But neither one nor the other had been neglected. Along the shore Edward posted his fleet, with archers, and artillery, and bombards, the noise of which frightened the enemy; and at the bridge of Nieullet he posted his cousin, the Earl of Derby, with such a force of archers and men-at-arms as were likely to keep it against all comers.

Not wholly informed as to the position of the English or perhaps, when at a distance, contemptuous of their power, Philip of Valois, while encamped at Sangate, sent his marshals to examine the country, and ascertain the most favourable passage towards the foes whom he came to crush; but they returned, with dismay in their faces, to inform him that no attempt could be made without the certainty of an infinite loss of men.

"But," cried Philip, after hearing them, "why not cross the marshes between Sangate and the sea?"

"Because, sire," answered the marshals firmly, "the marshes are known to be impassable, and the idea is not seriously to be entertained."

"Well," exclaimed Philip angrily, "by St. Denis! it seems that I cannot get to my adversary the King of England, but that is no reason why he should not come to me."

And, after pondering for a day and a night, he commanded four of his lords, one of whom was Eustace de Ribeaumont, to go to King Edward and challenge him to leave his camp, and fight on the hill of Sangate.

According to their instructions, the four lords mounted their steeds, passed the bridge of Nieullet, and, on reaching the English camp, found the king surrounded by his barons and knights. Dismounting, they approached, with many reverences, and stood before the king.

"Gentlemen," said Edward, smiling, "ye are welcome. Pray tell me what is your errand, for I would fain know at once."

"Sire," said Eustace de Ribeaumont, speaking for all, "the King of France informs you, through us, that he is come to the hill of Sangate in order to give you battle, but he cannot find any means of approaching you."

Edward looked round on his barons and knights, and, as he did so, he smiled complacently.

"Therefore," continued Ribeaumont, "the King of France wishes you to assemble your council, and he will send some of his, that they may confer together, and fix on some spot where a general combat may take place."

"Gentlemen," said Edward dryly, "I have already taken counsel with my barons and knights, and my answer to the demand of Philip of Valois is brief. I perfectly understand the request made, through you, by my adversary, who wrongfully keeps possession of my inheritance, which, be it known to you, weighs much upon me. You will, therefore, tell him from me, if you please, that I have been on this spot near a twelvemonth. Of this, I am assured, he was well informed; and, had he chosen, he might have come here sooner. But, God's truth! he has allowed me to remain so long that I have expended large sums of money, and have done so much that I must be master of Calais in a very short time. I am not, therefore, inclined in the smallest degree to comply with his caprices, or to gratify his convenience, or to abandon what I have gained, or what I have been so anxious to conquer. If neither he nor his army can pass by the downs nor by the bridge, he must seek out some other road. I am not bound to find him a way."

The French lords bowed low on receiving King Edward's answer, and, having mounted their horses, were courteously escorted to the bridge of Nieullet, and sent on to their own camp. On reaching Sangate they related to Philip of Valois the result of their mission, and gave such an account of the formidable preparations made to oppose them, that the bold countenance of the Valois fell.

"By heavens!" exclaimed he, gesticulating violently, "this passes all patience; but, one day, I will make mine adversaries dearly rue all they are doing."

Having uttered his threat, which the unhappy man was not destined to execute, Philip acknowledged the impossibility of any successful attempt to raise the siege of Calais, and forced himself to the determination of abandoning the enterprise which had created so much stir throughout France. Breaking up his camp, he marched, much crestfallen, from Sangate, and away in the direction of Amiens, there to disband his army. But the English were not inclined to let him off so easily. Attacking the rear of the retreating force, they wrought the French much mischief, and brought off prisoners, horses, and waggons full of wine and other provisions.

Meanwhile, the Calesians were in the last stages of distress, and when they saw Philip depart, leaving them to their fate, they uttered a long wail, expressive of horror and grief. It was, indeed, abundantly evident that all hope of succour had vanished, and, at the instance of the despairing inhabitants, John de Vienne, governor of the town, mounted the walls, and, displaying a flag, made a signal that he demanded a parley.

"Now," said King Edward joyfully, "the fruit is at length ripe, and the wind is about to do its work."

And he ordered Sir Walter Manny to hold a parley with the French governor.

CHAPTER XXXIV

SURRENDER OF CALAIS

It was the morning of the 3rd of August, 1347; and there was woe and lamentation within the walls of Calais. After having held out sternly for well-nigh a year, the town, left to its fate by Philip of Valois, already exposed to some of the horrors of famine, and now almost at the mercy of the King of England, was on the point of surrendering to the besiegers, and under such circumstances as made the necessity appear all the more cruel.

In fact, the parley which John de Vienne, the governor, had demanded, and which he had held in the usual form with Sir Walter Manny, had not resulted as anticipated by the Calesians; for King Edward insisted on an unconditional surrender, and, at first, would listen to no other terms. In vain Sir Walter Manny and the nobles of England pleaded for the unfortunate town. The only condition to which Edward would consent was one which added to the melancholy of the occasion, and melted the sternest hearts.

"Gentlemen," said Edward in a conclusive tone, "I am not so obstinate as to hold my opinion against you all."

Every eye sparkled with satisfaction, as the idea that the king was about to yield to their wishes, occurred to all.

"Sir Walter," continued Edward dryly, "you will therefore inform the Governor of Calais that the only grace that he may expect from me is, that six of the principal citizens march out of the town with bare heads and feet, with ropes round their necks, and the keys of the town and castle in their hands. These six citizens shall be at my absolute disposal; the remainder of the inhabitants pardoned."

When the decision at which the royal conqueror had arrived was made known to John de Vienne, he ordered the bell to be rung; and, having assembled all the men and women of Calais in the town hall, he informed them of the answer which he had received, and that he could not obtain any more favourable conditions. Mournful was the scene which ensued. Immediately the assembly raised the cry of despair; and the distress was so great that even the fortitude of John de Vienne gave way, and he wept bitterly. After a short pause, however, Eustace St. Pierre, one of the richest men in Calais, and one of the most virtuous, rose slowly, and with serene dignity addressed the populace.

"Gentlemen, both high and low," said Eustace gravely, "it would be a very great pity to suffer so many people to die through famine, if any means could be found to prevent it; and it would be highly meritorious in the eyes of our Saviour if such misery could be averted."

A low murmur of approbation ran through the assembly, and all present kept their eyes fixed on the countenance of the speaker.

"And such being the case," continued Eustace, "and such faith have I in finding grace before God, if I die to save my townsmen, that I venture to name myself as one of the six."

As may be supposed, a mighty effect was produced by this speech; and, as Eustace concluded, the populace were almost inclined to worship him. Many, indeed, cast themselves at his feet with tears and groans, and sought to kiss the hem of his garment. Nor was this example lost on those who, like himself, had hitherto held their head highest in the now imperilled community. With little delay, and as little reluctance, five of the principal citizens rose, as Eustace had done, and volunteered, like him, to give themselves up for their fellow-townsmen, and if necessary, seal the sacrifice with their blood.

No time was now lost in bringing matters to a conclusion. Mounting a hackney, John de Vienne conducted the six citizens to the gate, and, having passed through, led them, barefoot and bare-headed, with halters round their necks, and the keys of Calais in their hands, to the barrier, and delivered them to Sir Walter Manny, who was there waiting.

"Sir knight," said John de Vienne, "I, as Governor of Calais, deliver to you with the consent of the inhabitants, these six citizens; and I swear to you that they were, and are to this day, the most wealthy in Calais. I beg of you, gentle sir, that you would have the goodness to beseech your king that they may not be put to death."

"On my faith," replied Sir Walter, much affected, "I cannot answer for what the king will do with them; but you may depend on this, that I will do all in my power to save them."

And now the barriers were opened, and Sir Walter Manny, leading the six citizens to the royal pavilion, presented them to the victor king.

Immediately on coming into Edward's presence, the six citizens fell on their knees, and, with uplifted hands, implored mercy.

"Most gallant king," cried they, in accents that moved every heart, "see before you men of Calais, who have been capital merchants, and who bring you the keys of the castle and the town."

All the lords and knights of England who surrounded their king on the occasion wept at the sight. At first, however, it seemed that the citizens were doomed. In fact, Edward greatly disliked the Calesians, not only for the blood and treasure they had cost him during the siege, but for the many injuries which, in other days, their cruisers had done the English at sea; and, far from sympathising with the pity expressed, he eyed them with angry glances, and ordered them to be straightway led to execution. But loud murmurs arose from the barons who stood around; and one noble, bolder than the others, protested frankly. It was the young Lord Merley.

"My lord," said he, "reflect before doing in this matter what can never be undone, nor, as I believe, justified. Remember, my lord, what was said by your grandsire of illustrious memory, when advised to show mercy to men infinitely more criminal than these citizens. 'Why,' said he, 'talk to me of showing mercy? When did I ever refuse mercy to mortal man who asked it? I would not refuse mercy even to a dog!'"

Edward, however, shook his head, and appeared inexorable. But Sir Walter Manny, trusting to his influence, ventured on a last appeal.

"Gentle sir," said Sir Walter, "let me beseech you to restrain your anger. You have the reputation of great and true nobility of soul. Do not tarnish your reputation by such an act as this, nor allow any man to speak of you as having so tarnished it. All the world would say that you have acted cruelly if you put to death six men who have surrendered themselves to your mercy to save their fellow-citizens."

"Be it so," replied the king, with a significant wink, "and meantime let the headsman be sent for."

At that moment the fate of the citizens appeared to be sealed; and they must have given up all hope. But they had still another chance of escape. Almost as the king spoke, Queen Philippa approached, and, falling upon her knees, implored her husband to show mercy to the unhappy men.

"Ah, gentle sir," said the queen, with tears in her eyes, "since I, in spite of great dangers, have crossed the seas to meet you, I have never asked you one favour. Now I do most humbly ask, as a gift, for the sake of the Son of the Blessed Mary, and for your love of me, that you will be merciful to these six men."

For some time the king regarded his spouse without speaking, and as if struggling with himself. At length he broke silence, and, as he spoke, all present listened to his words, as if the life of each depended upon the answer.

"Lady," said he, "I wish that, at this moment, you had been anywhere else than here. But you have intreated in such a manner that I cannot refuse you. I therefore give these citizens to you to do as you like with them."

As the king concluded, all the nobles and knights breathed more freely; and the queen, having conducted the citizens to her apartments, caused their halters to be taken off, and clothes to be given to them, and ordered that they should be served with dinner; and then, having presented each with six nobles, she commanded that they should be safely and honourably escorted out of the camp.

Meanwhile Edward, now secure of his prize, turned to Sir Walter Manny and the two marshals, and handed them the keys which had been brought by the six citizens.

"Gentlemen," said he, "here are the keys of the town and castle of Calais. Go and take possession."

"And what of the governor and inhabitants?" asked they.

"As to them I will explain my views," replied the king. "You will first put into prison the governor and the knights whom you find there; and then all the other inhabitants you will send out of the town, and all soldiers who were serving for pay. I am resolved to repeople the town, and to people it with English, and none but English."

Forthwith, and right willingly, Sir Walter Manny and the marshals proceeded to execute the king's commands. With a hundred men they entered Calais, and took formal possession. John de Vienne and his knights having been taken into custody, arms of every sort were brought to the market-place, and piled up in a heap; and the inhabitants of all ages and sexes were ordered to leave the town, with the exception of an old priest and two other old men, who were well acquainted with the place and its customs and likely to be useful in pointing out the different properties.

At the same time, directions were given for preparing the castle to receive the King and Queen of England; this done, Edward and Philippa mounted their steeds, and entered the gates in triumph. All were gay and exultant; trumpets and tabours sounded loudly; and the standard of England waved from tower and turret.

CHAPTER XXXV

A RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM

While the English were prosecuting the siege of Calais, and Philip of Valois was preparing to march, when too late, to relieve the town, and while King Edward was rendering his position too strong to be approached even by the boldest of foes, the match between the young Count of Flanders and the Lady Isabel of England continued to excite much interest, and to furnish material for many a dialogue. It was understood that the ideas of the Count of Flanders on the important subject of matrimony had undergone a total change, and that he had become not only reconciled to his fate, but all eagerness for the celebration of a marriage to which he had formerly expressed such a very decided aversion; and preparations were heartily made, on one side at least, for the great event which was to bind Flanders still more closely to her chief commercial ally. No expense was spared. The King of England provided rich gifts of cloths and jewels to distribute on the wedding-day, and the queen was similarly employed, as she was anxious to acquit herself on the occasion with honour and generosity.

In the meantime the Count of Flanders had returned to his own country, and at Ghent he was residing under the eye of his somewhat imperious subjects. But he was no longer a captive, nor even an object of jealousy. Not only had he done what they wished, but he talked in such a way as highly to gratify them. He professed to be much pleased at everything which, at their instance, he had done – pleased with the English match, and also with his prospective bride; and he declared that the alliance with England was perfectly agreeable to him, in such terms that they, believing all he said, refrained from keeping any strict watch over him, and left him to pursue his sports without let or hindrance.

Now, as I have before said, the Count of Flanders was marvellously fond of hawking, and seldom allowed a day to pass without indulging in his favourite sport. With him it was not pursued merely as a recreation, as with most princes, but it was a passion. No one was surprised, therefore, when one day in the week in which he was to receive the hand of the English princess, he mounted his horse and fared forth, as usual, with a slight attendance; which was rather a train than a guard, and with a falconer by his side, each with a hawk on his wrist, made for the fields outside the city.

No sooner did the party enter the fields in search of game than a heron rose. The falconer immediately flew his hawk, and the count, having done likewise, pretended to be absorbed in calculating the probable result. Watching the birds attentively as they pursued their game, and shouting "Hoye! hoye!" he followed them at a gallop till he was at some distance from his attendants, and deliberately put in execution a project he had formed for making his escape.

Fortunately for the count, not the slightest suspicion was entertained that he any longer felt discontented with his position, and his attendants ascribed his gallop to his ardour for hawking. No sooner, however, did he gain the open field, than he struck spurs into his horse, went off at a pace which set pursuit at defiance, and pursued his way without stopping till he reached the county of Artois, and knew that all danger of being captured was past.

But the Count of Flanders did not linger in Artois. Forward to the court of France, where his heart had ever been, went he joyfully, and chuckled with glee as he related to Philip of Valois all that had happened.

"You have acted wisely, cousin," said Philip. "As for your betrothal, heed it not. A forced contract is of no avail; and for the rest, I will ally you otherwise, and more to your honour and profit."

So spake Philip of Valois; but not so spake the warriors of England, when the Flemings, enraged and mortified, came to Calais with tidings of their count's escape, and with befitting excuses to the English king.

"Shame upon the dog of a Fleming!" cried every one; "he has deceived and betrayed us."

"It is true," said the king, more calmly than might have been expected. "Nevertheless," added he, "we must not blame the Flemings, who are our friends; but we are bound to cultivate their friendship in spite of what has happened on this occasion; for what has happened has not been with their consent or connivance. On the contrary, they are much, and justly, enraged with their count's conduct."

And so King Edward accepted the excuses of the Flemings, and the matter ended; and, ere twelve months passed over, the Lady Isabel learned that her runaway bridegroom had espoused the daughter of the Duke of Brabant.

CHAPTER XXXVI

HOW CALAIS WAS REPEOPLED

Melancholy, I must confess, it was on that memorable August day, even in the eyes of the conquerors of Calais, to see the citizens expelled from the homes which hitherto they had called their own, and compelled to wander forth, not knowing whither they went. Nor with them did they carry aught to aid them in forming new settlements. Everything they possessed was left behind; and, atoning for their fidelity to Philip of Valois by the loss of wealth and goods, as well as houses and heritage, men, women, and children, of various ages and conditions, passed, weeping, through the opened gates, to seek among strangers for new abodes and new friends.

All who witnessed their departure commiserated their hard fate. Even King Edward, albeit exasperated at the Calesians, must, in his heart, have deplored the stern necessity under the influence of which he acted. But, as I have said, the king had expressed his determination to repeople Calais with English, and so thoroughly was his mind made up on the subject, that nothing could have turned him from the plan he had formed for securing his conquest to England, and making it advantageous to Englishmen.

In order to contribute to the result which he contemplated, the king gave to Sir Walter Manny and the Earl of Warwick, and other lords and knights, very handsome houses in Calais, that they might aid him in the work, and intimated his resolution to lose no time in doing his part.