Cressy and Poictiers

CHAPTER XLV

RENEWAL OF THE WAR

It was not only the King of England whose enmity John of Valois, after taking possession of the throne of France, had provoked by indulging his vindictive temper. Hardly had he assumed the symbols of royalty, when, by neglecting to pay his daughter's dowry, he involved himself in a bitter quarrel with his son-in-law, whose friendship it was his interest to cultivate even at some sacrifice of pride.

Now this son-in-law happened to be no less remarkable a personage than the King of Navarre, who was also Count of Evreux, and who was known as Charles the Bad; and he at once proved himself a potent and unscrupulous foe. In fact, when his personal enemy, Charles de la Cerda, was appointed Constable of France, the King of Navarre showed his contempt for the authority of the King of France by seizing the constable at Aigle, and putting him to death; and, when cited before a Bed of Justice to answer for the crime, he gathered around him the Norman nobles, who were his friends and partisans, and set the royal summons at defiance. The quarrel, however, was accommodated, and a reconciliation took place. But between two such men there could not be any lasting amity. The King of Navarre was ever thwarting his father-in-law's government, and John accused his son-in-law of doing many things contrary to the honour of the crown and the welfare of the realm. At length John took his kinsman at advantage, and a step which brought matters to a crisis.

And the occasion was not ill-chosen for his purpose. Charles, the dauphin, having been invested with the duchy of Normandy, repaired to Rouen to take possession; and, in the great hall of the castle, he gave a feast to the King of Navarre, to John, Count of Harcourt, Navarre's favourite, and to other Norman nobles who were Navarre's friends. Suddenly, in the midst of the feast, John, who had ridden from Chartres with his marshal and his armed guards, entered the banqueting hall, and caused the whole party, with the exception of the dauphin, to be arrested and shut up in various chambers. Having then sat down at table, and leisurely dined, he ordered the Count of Harcourt and four other nobles to be carted to a field behind the castle, and executed before his eyes. Next day, after placing their heads on a gibbet in Rouen, he set out for Paris, carrying with him the King of Navarre, whom he imprisoned in the Louvre.

But it speedily appeared that he had acted rashly. Avengers instantly sprang up in the person of Philip of Navarre and Godfrey Harcourt. Philip of Navarre was brother of the incarcerated king, and Count of Longueville; Godfrey Harcourt was uncle of the beheaded count, and the same Norman baron who, in 1346, acted as marshal of the English army, and guided the English to the very gates of Paris. Both of them immediately entered into an alliance with Edward, acknowledged him as King of France, and did homage to him as such; and it became evident that John had drawn on the kingdom, whose destinies he had aspired to sway, a storm the effects of which were likely to be felt as far and wide as that which his sire had caused by the murder of the Breton nobles.

Ere this the truce between England and France was reckoned among the things of the past. It was in June that the truce expired; but it was not till the reapers had done their work, and the harvest was gathered into the barns, that England began to arm for a renewal of the war. Then, however, no time was lost. Three armies were mustered, and destined to attack France from different quarters. The first, under the king, was to land at Calais; the second, under the Prince of Wales, in Gascony; and the third, under the Earl of Derby, in Normandy, to co-operate with Philip of Navarre and Godfrey Harcourt.

In the autumn Edward landed with his force at Calais, having taken with him his two sons, Lionel of Antwerp and John of Gaunt, that they might see something of real war. But in this the young princes were disappointed. The king, indeed, marched twenty-two leagues into the country; and, reaching Hesdin, a strong town in Artois, he destroyed the outworks. But no enemy appeared to give him battle; and, finding that the country was wasted, and that an army could not be subsisted in its march, he was fain to return to Calais, and soon after found it prudent to abandon the idea of operations, and embark for England.

More fortunate than the king's expedition, but, like his, without glory, was that of the Prince of Wales. It was the month of October when the young hero landed in Gascony and raised his banner. Advancing as far as Toulouse, he there crossed the Garonne, and threw his army upon Languedoc. His enterprise was perilous; for the King of France had sent thither the Count of Armagnac with a force much superior in number; but the prince, far from being daunted by the intelligence, pushed on the more boldly, attacked Carcassonne, marched on to Narbonne, and, over-running the country without his foes showing their faces, returned to Bordeaux with much plunder and a host of prisoners.

Hardly had France recovered from the alarm created by the landing of the King and the Prince of Wales when the Earl of Derby debarked his fighting men on the coast of Normandy, and, entering the country of Coutantin, commenced operations in conjunction with Philip of Navarre and Godfrey Harcourt. At first the English earl and the Norman lords carried everything before them, taking towns and castles as they went. But their force did not exceed four thousand men; and when John, raising a large body of men-at-arms and infantry, came to the rescue of his adherents, the Earl of Derby, who was then at Verneuil, found it prudent to depart from that place, and, passing Aigle, made for Tubœuf.

Meanwhile, John, hurrying through Condé, marched straight to Verneuil, and followed the earl to Tubœuf. But there he halted, and, being informed that he could not, with advantage, pursue farther, as there were immense forests, in which the English and their allies could find refuge, he turned back, and, after taking all the towns and castles in Lower Normandy which belonged to the King of Navarre as Count of Evreux, he returned to Paris, congratulating himself on the success of his expedition. But, meantime, John's enemies were preparing for fresh enterprises; and he, ere long, received intelligence which kindled his ire.

"Sire," said a French knight, whose appearance proved the speed with which he had been riding, "I bring you tidings of your enemies."

"Ah!" exclaimed John eagerly. "Where are they?"

"It is of the young Prince of Wales I would speak, sire," continued the knight, who, knowing his master's fiery temper, was not without apprehension as to the effect which his communication might produce.

"Well, the young Prince of Wales," said John – "what of him?"

"Sire," replied the knight, hesitating no longer, "the Prince of Wales has left Bordeaux, and his army is fast advancing towards the fertile country of Berry."

"Berry!" cried John, stamping with rage. "By God and St. Denis! I will make him rue his audacity. I will go against him without a day's delay; and woe to him; for I swear, by all the saints, to give him battle whenever and wherever I can find him."

CHAPTER XLVI

A TOWN LOST AND WON

It was not my fortune to accompany the Prince of Wales in that expedition which, in the autumn of 1355, he made in the South of France. At this time I was with the King of England, at Calais, and engaged in the enterprise which circumstances, not under his control, compelled him to abandon, after reaching Hesdin and destroying the outworks.

Nevertheless, on Edward's return to Calais, it seemed that there was still some hope of the French once more bearding the lion of Cressy. In fact, John of Valois summoned an army to assemble at Amiens, and, advancing as far as St. Omer, sent his marshal to challenge the king to a general battle. But events proved that the French were not in earnest, and that the challenge was sent for no other purpose than to keep the king inactive at Calais until preparations could be made for the Scots crossing the Tweed, and ravaging the North of England, so as to compel Edward to cross the seas, and hasten to the rescue of his subjects.

At this crisis I was all vigilance; and, having my suspicions that John of Valois was playing the game which his sire had attempted with so little success, I exercised all my ingenuity to gain intelligence. My efforts were not in vain; and one day, while the king, still under the delusion that he was to have an opportunity of combating his enemies, was in the courtyard of Calais Castle, with his sons, Lionel and John, and looking on while the young princes were diverting themselves with chivalrous exercises, I carried to him the alarming intelligence that John of Valois, in order to induce his allies of Scotland to make a diversion in his favour, had despatched to that country a knight, named Eugène de Garentière, with sixty picked men-at-arms, and forty thousand crowns to be expended in mustering an army.

On hearing of this new danger, Edward entered the castle, and, after duly considering the matter, ordered me to depart instantly to England, to make with all speed to the North, and to warn Sir John Copeland to draw fighting men together, to exercise the utmost vigilance against surprise, and to be ready in case of a regular invasion, to take steps for giving the Scots battle.

"But," said the king, "it is rather a surprise than any regular invasion that I apprehend; for, after the result of their march to Durham, and their rout at Neville's Cross, they will shrink from any great enterprise, and recur to their old system of making sudden and rapid inroads."

I embarked for England without loss of time; and, so far as I was concerned, no delay occurred in the execution of the king's behest. But I was all too late to prevent mischief. As Edward had foreseen, the Scots did not occupy themselves with extensive preparations. Having shared the French crowns among them, the chief nobles and Robert Stuart, who acted as guardian of Scotland during the captivity of the King of Scots, determined on an immediate incursion, and accordingly sent a force to the Border, under Lord Douglas and Sir William Ramsay, a knight of prowess and courage.

But the Scots were cautious. In order to insure success it was necessary to resort to stratagem; and, well knowing that such was the case, Douglas, on reaching the Merse, halted at a place called Nisbet Moor, and sent forward Ramsay with a body of horse, who, fording the Tweed, pushed as far as Norham, burned the little town, defied the castle, and then, pretending to fly, allured Sir Thomas Dacre and an English force over the Border and into the Merse, and ultimately, fighting as they went, to Nisbet Moor, where, ready for action, the main body of the Scots lay in ambush.

And no sooner, indeed, did Dacre and his band reach this place than the Scots sprang upon them and made a fierce attack, with shouts of "Douglas! Douglas for ever! Ye shall die, ye thieves of England!" It was in vain that the English struggled against the numbers opposed to them. Surprised and surrounded, they were speedily overcome; and Dacre, after killing Haliburton and Turnbull, two Scottish knights of consequence, was forced to yield and surrender his sword.

Elate with this advantage, such as it was, the Scots determined to pursue their success. But they coveted something more substantial than barren honour, and, eager for spoil, they turned their eyes towards Berwick.

Natural it was that the Scots should have bethought themselves of the town which, at the beginning of his reign, and after his victory at Halidon, Edward had torn from their grasp; for, as a stronghold in English hands, it was to them an awkward neighbour. Not only did it form a formidable barrier in the East Marches to the incursions of the Scots, but checked their operations in other quarters; and the boldest of them shrank from the consequences of an inroad by the Middle or West Marches, when they reflected on the probability of the Captain of Berwick sallying forth in retaliation, at the head of his garrison, and sweeping the country to the gates of Edinburgh.

And, in another respect, it was a tempting prize; for the king, eager to repair the injuries sustained by its trade during the Scottish wars, had granted the town great privileges; and, availing themselves of their privileges, the townsmen had grown prosperous and rich. Such being the case, the Scots felt that there was nowhere a better chance of booty.

At this time Sir Alexander Ogle was Captain of Berwick, and Sir Robert Boynton governor of the castle. Neither of them seems to have been apprehensive of danger, and probably both of them deemed the place perfectly secure, even in case of an assault being attempted. On the first point, however, they deceived themselves, and on the second they forgot that they had to deal with men no less crafty than courageous.

It was late in the year 1355, and Thomas Stuart, who called himself Earl of Angus, having collected a fleet, embarked with a multitude of armed men, and on a dark night sailed into the mouth of the Tweed. The hour favoured his adventure. It was just as the first dawn of returning day was perceptible, and the town was hushed in repose, that the Scots, accompanied by Garentière and his Frenchmen, disembarked on the northern bank of the river, and moved stealthily and unobserved to the foot of the walls. Reaching a part called the Cowgate, and making use of scaling ladders, they climbed the walls, and, overpowering the sentinels, leaped into the town. But at this stage of affairs the alarm was sounded, and Ogle, rousing his men, appeared to oppose them sword in hand. A desperate conflict then took place in the streets and lanes; and the Scots, after slaying Ogle and two other English knights, remained masters of the town. But the Scots had purchased their victory dearly. Even taken at advantage, and overborne by numbers, the reputation which that famous garrison enjoyed had been well maintained. In yielding to numbers, they had proved their valour and prowess; and, when the sun rose and revealed the carnage, the conquerors found that, in the encounter, they had lost six knights of note, besides a host of inferior men.

Moreover, Ogle's resistance had been of infinite service to the inhabitants, for great, as may be supposed, was their consternation when they became aware that the Scots were upon them. Roused from sleep, and springing from their beds, the townsmen carried off the women and children, and ran for their lives in terror and despair. Some escaped by the gates, others ran to the castle; and the Scots found themselves in possession of the wealth, the thought of which had excited their cupidity and stimulated their ardour.

But the situation of the Scots was not, in all respects, pleasant. The castle held sternly out, and all their efforts to take it proved failures. Moreover, the garrison sent to ask the counsel and aid of Copeland; and, in concert with him, a plan was formed for introducing into the castle a number of English warriors, who might enter the town by what was called Douglas Tower, and recover the place by strength of hand.

However well conceived, the project came to naught. By some process intelligence of what was passing reached the Scots; and, on learning the intentions of the garrison, and after having been masters of Berwick for a week, they hastened to seize the Douglas Tower. Having done so, with the assistance of Garentière and his Frenchmen, they defended both town and tower so resolutely that no impression could be made.

But matters could not possibly remain as they were, and John of Valois soon had reason to congratulate himself on the success of Garentière's mission. So great was the importance of Berwick, that Edward, on hearing how affairs were, abandoned his schemes on the Continent, and embarked for England, to take measures for the recovery of the place, and, after staying three days in London, set out on his way northward.

It was on an early day in January, 1356, when the king, having kept his Christmas in Newcastle, and summoned the fighting men of the North to his standard, came before Berwick at the head of his army, accompanied by his two sons and Sir Walter Manny, while his fleet appeared in the Tweed. Repairing to the castle, while Manny set miners brought from Dean Forest to work, Edward prepared to let down the drawbridge and attack the town from the castle, while Sir Walter, with the aid of the miners of Dean, was employed in advancing a mine below the walls. But a brief period proved that neither operation was necessary. Indeed, when the Scots perceived the combination of art and force that was to be used against them, the sight was enough. With one voice they cried that it was time to surrender, and only begged that they might be permitted to march out with safety of life and limb.

Not wishing to drive matters between himself and the Scots to extremity, Edward, indignant and angry, as he might well be, at their unprovoked aggression, granted their prayer; and terms of capitulation having been agreed to, they were allowed to march out and return to their own country.

Nevertheless, after Berwick had in this way been lost and won, and when the townsmen, returning to their homes, complained loudly of the injuries they had sustained, the King of England considered it expedient to take precautions against future inroads; and, leaving men to garrison the town and repair the fortifications, he set out for the castle of Roxburgh, where he was to hold a conference with Edward Baliol, who, as legitimate heir of the ancient Kings of Scotland, still claimed the Scottish throne.

CHAPTER XLVII

"A DOUGLAS!"

At the castle of Roxburgh, situated hard by the confluence of the Tweed and the Teviot, and the scene of many a royal festival in the days of William the Lion and the Alexanders, the King of England remained for some time, revolving his plans for the settlement of Scotland; and there Baliol, now an old man and childless, and unprepared to assert his hereditary right to the crown and kingdom, made it over to Edward by formally delivering the crown which had been placed on his head at Scone, and some of the soil of the kingdom which his ancestors had enjoyed, and, at the same time, declared him heir to all the estates of the house of Baliol on both sides of the Tweed.

This ceremony, which was not destined to have much influence on the course of events, took place in the presence of the Bishop of Durham and the Abbots of Melrose and Dryburgh; and the king, learning that the Scots had assembled to oppose his progress, prepared to raise the banner of Scotland and march against them.

But it was generally the habit of the warriors of Scotland to conceal their movements; and Edward, having on this occasion only a vague idea in what direction the Scots were to be found, and becoming eager for intelligence, ordered that two squires should ride forth and reconnoitre. Accordingly I was sent, in company with Robert Salle, the youth of whom I have spoken as attached to Aymery de Pavie when Governor of Calais, with instructions to discover, if possible, at all risks, where the Scots were to be found.

Between Salle and myself a close friendship had sprung into existence during Edward's expedition to Calais; and as both of us had emerged from obscurity, and as we both owed to our skill and courage what reputation we enjoyed, we naturally sympathised on many points. But I did not fully share the antipathy which, in his more dreary moods, he, as the son of a mason, felt for men who had inherited high names and great possessions; and as I sometimes, under the influence of imagination, talked as if there was a gulf between us, we could not always avoid discussions of a more warm kind than was agreeable. On the present occasion our tendency in this respect was destined to lead us into an awkward predicament.

As may be supposed, our mission was not without perils, which only the utmost vigilance could guard against; and, considering how little we knew of the country, we certainly should have remembered our danger. But, young and adventurous, we thought lightly of the hazard as we rode on through mud and mire. At first we examined every hill and dale with searching eyes. But, when no human being appeared, we became more careless, and it was not till after pursuing our way for hours, and as we were skirting an extensive wood, that I instinctively felt that danger might be nigh.

"Beshrew me if I like the aspect of this place!" exclaimed I suddenly. "I would that Copeland, our northern hero, or some man familiar with the country, were here to guide us safely!"

"By St. George!" replied Salle, "I confess I begin to be somewhat alarmed; but, be the peril what it may, we hazard nothing but our lives."

"True," said I; "but life has its sweets, and I am not yet so weary of mine as to feel indifferent to the possibility of losing it – least of all, needlessly; for, as the Orientals say, there is no hope of living again, seeing that man is not a water-melon, and that, when once in the ground, he cannot grow again."

"And yet," remarked Salle, "I have heard that ancient sages were wont to say, 'Let no man be envied till his death;' and, for my own part, I see not how a warrior could better die than for his king and country."

"A noble sentiment, doubtless," said I, "and one to be carefully cherished; but methinks it is better to live to serve one's king and country in manhood and age than to die uselessly for them in youth. Moreover, you know, I have still to penetrate the mystery of my birth, and that is a motive for wishing to live."

"Tush!" exclaimed Salle querulously; "why harp for ever on that string? What matters it what has been a man's birth, if his heart is noble and his hand strong?"

"Little, mayhap," I replied; "still, I would fain have the consciousness of an interest in the past, and be at the bottom of the mystery, the solution of which might give me such an interest."

"You never will penetrate your mystery," said he in a conclusive tone.

"Now," replied I, repressing an angry feeling that stirred in my breast, "I hold not with you; for few secrets can escape an investigator who pursues the inquiry with determination; and it ever seems to me that there is a voice telling me that the truth which I pant to learn will one day be revealed; and, therefore, I continue the search after it with the ardour of a Knight of the Round Table in quest of the Sangreal."

"And what, I pray you, was the Sangreal?" asked Salle with a sneer.

"Nothing less than the sacred vessel from which the Redeemer of Mankind and his disciples ate the last supper," replied I, crossing myself devoutly; "and which Joseph of Arimathea brought, with the spear used at the crucifixion, when he came to England to convert the inhabitants to Christianity, and planted, near the abbey of Glastonbury, the miraculous thorn which blossoms every year at Christmas."

"And did the Knights of the Round Table succeed in their quest of this Sangreal?" inquired Salle.

"Yes, in truth did they," answered I, proud of my lore; "it was at length achieved by a knight named Galahad, aided by Sir Bors and Sir Percival, both champions of high renown in Christendom."