Cressy and Poictiers

CHAPTER LIII

THE INCURSION

It was, as I have intimated, late in the month of July, when the Prince of Wales, marching out of Bordeaux, ascended the Garonne as far as Agen, and then, turning to the left, overran the provinces of Quercy, Limousin, and Auvergne, sparing not the country; for the object of his incursion was to weaken the French by destroying their resources, and thus bring the war to a speedy conclusion.

Rich and fertile as ever the sun shone on looked the land through which the prince rode in hostile array. It was summer, and the days were long, and bright, and merry. The harvest was well-nigh ready for the sickle. The corn was waving in the fields; the grapes were swelling on the stem; the fruit was reddening on the bough. But the invaders were in no mood to spare either corn, or grapes, or fruit. The harvest was trodden down by the horsemen; the villages and farm-houses were given to the flames; the very cattle on the hills were slaughtered; and every man who was thought rich enough to pay a ransom was taken prisoner, to be carried to Bordeaux. All this time the prince rode on at his ease, and without any opposition. When he entered any town which was well provisioned, the English rested some days to refresh themselves; and, ere taking their departure, they staved the heads of the wine-casks that were full, and burnt the wheat and oats, so that nothing was left for the enemy. It was not the Prince of Wales whom the French had to blame for all this; for their real enemies were the chiefs of the House of Valois, whom they had, in defiance of King Edward's claims, too readily recognised as their sovereigns.

Great, meanwhile, was the terror of the inhabitants. The people of Montpellier fled to Avignon to place themselves under the protection of the Pope. Trembling for his own safety, the Pope ordered his palace to be fortified and his gates to be covered with iron, and, hoping to influence the invaders, sent, offering money, to the prince to spare Perigord.

"My father," answered the prince, "has plenty of money, and does not want yours. But I will do no more than what I came to perform, namely, to chastise those who are in rebellion against our just rights."

Pursuing his career of devastation, the Prince of Wales, emboldened by the success of his operations, penetrated into Berry, a province in the very heart of France. Reaching the city of Bourges, he skirmished at the gates, but without taking the place, and then passed to Vierzon, which he took by storm. But weeks had now elapsed since his departure from Bordeaux, and his incursion was talked of far and wide; and, while resting his men for three days at Vierzon, he learned, not without some slight apprehension, that John of Valois – that valiant man of war – had reached Chartres, and was about to take the field at the head of a great army, with the object of intercepting his march and giving him battle.

Not an hour did the prince lose in forming a decision as to what was to be done at this crisis. Having held a council of war, he immediately resolved to leave Vierzon, and to return, without waste of time, to Bordeaux by way of Touraine and Poitou, and with this view he marched towards Romorantin, a considerable town on the Saudre, where there was a strong castle, held for John of Valois by two warriors of renown, known as the Lord of Boucicault and the Hermit of Chaumont. The torn of Romorantin, when attacked by the English van, yielded without a struggle. But this was not enough; and the prince, coming up, expressed his determination to obtain possession of the castle.

"Go," said he to Sir John Chandos, "and hold a parley with the garrison."

Without delay the knight proceeded to the barriers of the castle, and no sooner had he intimated that he wished to speak with those who were in command than the Lord of Boucicault and the Hermit of Chaumont came down to the bars, and declared that they were at his service.

"Gentlemen," said Chandos, saluting them in due form, "I am sent to you by my lord the Prince of Wales, who wishes to behave courteously towards his enemies, and says that, if you will surrender this castle and yourselves, he will show you mercy and give you good company."

"On my faith," replied the Lord of Boucicault, shaking his head and smiling, "we have no sort of inclination to accept such terms, nor to commit such an act of folly as surrendering without any necessity; and, moreover, we are able and determined to defend ourselves."

On hearing this, Chandos returned to the prince; and, on learning what was the answer, the prince ordered his men to their quarters, that they might be ready on the morrow to commence the assault. Accordingly, the marshal's trumpets having sounded at sunrise, the men-at-arms prepared themselves for action, and the archers advanced under their respective banners, and made a sharp attack on the castle. Indeed, they brought down so many enemies, and their aim was so unerring, that scarcely a French warrior ventured to show himself on the battlements; and some got on hurdles and doors, with pickaxes and mattocks in their hands, to undermine the walls. No sooner, however, did the French become aware of what was going on at the foot of the walls, than they commenced flinging large stones and pots of hot lime on the assailants; and, though the attack was resolutely persevered in, so little advantage was, for some time, gained, that the besiegers began to lose heart. At length the prince came to direct the assault in person, and so mightily encouraged the English by his voice and example, that they redoubled their exertions. Still the resistance was obstinate; and there were some men of experience who evinced an inclination to give up an enterprise likely to cost more time than the prize was worth, when an event occurred which led to a total change in the mode of attack, and brought matters to a conclusion.

I have mentioned, in the chapter telling of my arrival at Bordeaux, that one of the squires who attended the Prince of Wales at the monastery of St. Andrew, in that city, was named Bernard; and this squire, owing to the services he had rendered, was held in high esteem by his master. Now it happened that, when the castle of Romorantin was being assaulted, Bernard, while standing near the ditch by the prince's side, was struck by a stone thrown from the castle, and fell dead on the spot.

"By good St. George!" exclaimed the prince, "I swear not to be trifled with in this wise. I will not move hence until I have the castle and all in my possession."

Some of the wise and prudent shook their heads; but at this moment I, Arthur Winram, who had at the time dismounted near the spot, stepped forward.

"My lord," said I, addressing the prince, "it seems to me that this is an occasion on which we might for ever use lances and arrows in vain; and I put it to your highness if it would not be well to order bombards to be brought forward, and aquereaux and Greek fire to be shot from them."

"Right," replied the prince, after a moment's reflection; "let it be done"; and forthwith, to the consternation of the garrison, the bombards made their appearance.

The experiment was even more successful than I had anticipated. Rapidly the bombards did their work. Very soon the lower court of the castle was in a blaze; and the fire, reaching a large tower that was covered with thatch, gave indications not to be mistaken that it would speedily envelope the whole castle. Amazed and terrified, the garrison uttered cries of consternation, and the Lord of Boucicault and the Hermit of Chaumont, perceiving that they must either surrender or perish in the flames, no longer hesitated. Coming down, they yielded themselves to the prince, who, while allowing the other knights and squires in the castle to go at liberty, made the lord and the hermit ride with him and attend him as his prisoners, and, leaving Romorantin, marched forward as before, ravaging the country, in the direction of Anjou, and Touraine, and Poitou.

But, ere the prince could reach Poictiers, the danger which had for some time been threatening his little army of invaders was drawing near; and rumour brought vague intelligence that John of Valois was at hand.

CHAPTER LIV

THE COMING FOE

While the Prince of Wales was, with what speed he could, retreating from the scene of his exploits, in the hope of reaching Bordeaux, John of Valois, bent on intercepting the young hero's march, and vowing to destroy his army, was following his track with less instinctive sagacity, indeed, but with as thorough a tenacity of purpose, as the bloodhound by which we had been chased after our escape from the castle of Mount Moreville on that memorable night in early May. Never, in truth, had that fiery warrior shown more eagerness and determination than in hastening to the conflict which was to decide his fate.

From the hour in which he received intelligence of the prince's incursion, John was all excitement and activity. No sooner did he learn that the heir of England was marching towards Berry, and carrying all before him, than he mustered all his energies to meet the crisis, and to strike a sure and shattering blow at the pride and honour of the nation by whose king the race which he represented had been humbled to the dust. After issuing a special summons to all nobles and knights who held fiefs under him to assemble, without fail, on the borders of Touraine and Blois, and not, on any pretext whatever, to absent themselves, on pain of incurring his highest displeasure, he gave orders for securing the towns and bridges on the Loire, so as to prevent the English passing that river. In order to hasten the preparations for his enterprise, he left Paris with a large body of men whom he then had under arms; and, taking up his quarters within the walls of Chartres, while his army encamped in the fields outside the town, he awaited the arrival of his adherents, and meanwhile applied himself diligently to the task of obtaining accurate information as to the movements of the enemies whom he was dooming to destruction. And soon to the royal standard of France came princes and chiefs of great name, and captains of high renown, conspicuous among whom were the Duke of Athens, Constable of France; the Lords de Nesle and D'Andreghen, Marshals of France; the Dukes of Orleans and of Bourbon; the Counts of Tancarville, and Dammartin, and Vantadour, and Ponthieu; and last, but not least, Lord Robert de Duras, Bertrand du Guesclin, the famous Breton warrior; John de Saintré, esteemed the most accomplished of French knights; and Geoffrey de Chargny, celebrated for having, albeit in vain, attempted to recover Calais; and Eustace de Ribeaumont, who, at Calais, had fought hand to hand with King Edward, and who still wore the chaplet of pearls which, on that occasion, he had so valorously won from his victor. All these, and hundreds more already bearing names terrible in war, gathered round John of Valois at Chartres; and by his side were his four young sons – Charles, Duke of Normandy; Louis, Duke of Anjou; John, Duke of Berry; and Philip, Duke of Burgundy – eager for battle, and not doubtful of victory. What wonder that, so surrounded, and with sixty thousand men ready to obey his word of command, the royal warrior, as he listened to accounts of his youthful adversary's exploits, became more and more impatient for the hour of carnage and revenge?

And it was not merely by the nobles and knights of France that John of Valois was encompassed as he indulged in anticipations of triumph over the prince who had led the van of the army that quelled the haughty insolence of his sire. Around him were warriors from another land, whose kings had long been in alliance with his ancestors, and whose barons looked to him for protection, and regarded him with reverence. At that time the enthusiasm for crusades, once general in Christendom, had reached Scotland; and a band of Scots, headed by Lord Douglas, Sir Archibald Douglas, son of "the good Sir James," and Sir William Ramsay, a knight of great fame, had taken the Cross, and left their country to combat the Saracen. On reaching the Continent, however, they learned that John was about to march against the English; and, finding the sound of the trumpet of war irresistible, they forgot their religious vows, and offered their swords to aid in emancipating France from her English conquerors. Warm was the reception with which they met; high was the distinction with which they were treated; and under the standard of France they now rode to the war, rejoicing in the opportunity of dealing, on French soil, a blow to their enemies of England.

At length the time drew nigh for bringing the enterprise to a conclusion; and John of Valois, having learned that the English were in Touraine, and intent on making their way through Poitou to reach Gascony, left Chartres, and, marching to Chauvigny, six leagues from Poictiers, on Thursday, the 15th of September, took up his residence in the town, while his army encamped in the meadows that border the river Vienne.

And now, nothing likely to contribute to the success of his enterprise having been omitted, John no longer tarried from the encounter, for which he longed not the less eagerly that the chances were all on his side. On the morning of Friday, while his marshals performed their office and kept order in the ranks, he passed the bridge of Chauvigny with forty thousand horse, while the rear of his army passed by the bridge of Chatteleraunt; and all, as they reached the opposite side of the river, took the road to Poictiers, and delighted their souls with visions of the Prince of Wales carried in chains to Paris and adding to the triumph of the conqueror on his return to the capital.

It happened, however, that a small body of Frenchmen did not leave Chauvigny that day. So great, indeed, was the crowd, that the Count of Joigny and three other barons found it impossible to pass the bridge with the main army, and, submitting to the delay with what patience they could, returned to their quarters, and remained during Friday night in the town. Betimes next morning, however, they mounted and followed in the track of the army, which was three leagues in advance, and, in order to reach Poictiers, made for the open fields and heaths surrounded by woods, and pursued their way, fearing no interruption. But Poictiers they were not destined to reach. While in the open fields and heaths they met with an adventure which to some of them resulted in death, to others in captivity; and this adventure led to another, the rumour of which arrested the progress of John of Valois when about to enter Poictiers, and induced him to turn back to the plains of Beauvoir, where Fate, while flattering his pride, heating his blood, stimulating his ardour, raising his hopes, and tempting him to rashness, busily prepared the events which reduced him to despair and conducted him to captivity.

CHAPTER LV

AN UNWELCOME DISCOVERY

It was the morning of Saturday, the 17th of September, 1356, and the Prince of Wales, having rested for the night at a village near Poictiers, mounted at nine in the morning to continue his march towards Bordeaux. Nor, though John of Valois was at that time so near, had the English any such intelligence of his approach as could be relied on. In fact, the French were so exasperated with the incursion that they would give nothing like exact information, and the scouts on whom the prince depended could give nothing but the most vague notion of the movements of the enemy. All was surmise and uncertainty. One thing only was a matter of notoriety – nobody pretended to doubt that John was in arms, and at the head of a mighty host. Still the English were undismayed; and still their dauntless young leader hoped to make good his retreat, and to save them from the peril of an encounter of which the chances were deemed altogether desperate.

In the various endeavours made, at that crisis, to obtain tidings of the foe, I had not been idle; but my efforts, like those of my neighbours, had resulted in failure, and I had lost all hope of being of service in the matter, when I was startled by the arrival of Roger Redhand, who, equipped by John Copeland for the war, made his way to the prince's army through countless dangers, and brought intelligence of such moment that I immediately repaired to the prince's tent to communicate it without loss of time. The prince, at the moment, had his hand on the mane of his black steed, and was about to mount; but on seeing me approach he paused and turned round with an inquiring look.

"My lord," said I gravely, "I bring news."

"Good or bad?" asked the prince, affecting to appear gay, though he was strongly impressed with the responsibility of his position.

"Good or bad as you take it, my lord," replied I; "but, for my part, I regard it in such a light that I would to God it were other than it is."

"Nevertheless," exclaimed the prince, "speak out frankly. Of late I have felt that there was danger in every breath of wind, and would rather know the full extent of it at once, that I may consider in what manner it may best be coped with."

"In truth, then, my lord," said I, "John, Count of Valois, who calls himself King of France, yesterday passed the bridge of Chauvigny with his four sons, twenty-five dukes and earls, upwards of six score of banners, and more than sixty thousand men; and he is now approaching Poictiers with the certainty of intercepting your march, and with the determination of making you fight or yield."

"God help us!" exclaimed the prince, "for we are, indeed, in extreme peril. But it must be boldly met, and we must consider what is best to be done under the circumstances."

Far too prudent to neglect any precautions likely to conduce to the safety of his army, the prince now summoned the Captal of Buch and Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt, and ordered those brave warriors, with sixty men, well armed and mounted, to make observations and seek adventures; and I attended the Captal in the expedition. After riding through a wood by a rutty road, we, by accident, reached the heath which the Count of Joigny and his comrades were traversing, and found ourselves in the presence of a formidable body of enemies. Nor did they, as might have been expected, for a moment mistake us for friends. Putting on their helmets, and unfurling their banners, they fixed their lances in rest, and struck spurs to their horses.

"Now," said I, regarding the chances of an encounter as wholly desperate, "there is but one way of turning this adventure to some account, and that is, by flying and alluring them to follow us till we reach the prince."

"By the head of St. Anthony, it is well thought of!" exclaimed the Captal.

And wheeling our horses, we made for the rutty road, and dashed through the wood, while the French, shouting loudly and making a great noise, pursued with all the speed they could. But their clamour suddenly ceased when, opening our ranks, we allowed them to pass through, and they discovered how they had been deluded. It was too late, however, to think of retreat. Indeed, some of them, in their ardour, had advanced so far that they were right upon the banner of the prince ere they became aware of the stratagem. A sharp conflict ensued, and the French fought well; but many of them were slain; and the Count of Joigny, after being made prisoner, confirmed the tidings that John of Valois was at hand, and bent on giving battle.

All doubt as to the presence of the French being now dispelled, the Prince of Wales took such measures as the emergency seemed to demand. Collecting all stragglers, and issuing orders that no one should, on any pretext, advance or skirmish before the battalions of the marshals, he despatched the Captal of Buch and Sir Walter Woodland, with a select band of two hundred horsemen, of whom I was one, to observe where the French were encamped; and, pricking forward, we soon came in sight of the seemingly countless multitude that covered the plains while moving towards the city. But, numerous as they were, the Captal of Buch was in no mood to retire without giving them a taste of his steel.

"By the head of St. Anthony, gentlemen!" said he, "it would be a shame to return to the prince without performing something against the enemy."

"May I never again be embraced by my mistress," said Sir Walter Woodland, "if I do return without having unhorsed, at least, one foe!"

"By good St. George, knights and gentlemen!" said I, the thought of what Copeland would have done in such a case rushing through my mind, "it is mere waste of time to hesitate. Upon them!"

And, without further delay, we charged forward on the rear of the French with such effect that many were unhorsed; some were taken prisoners; and so much impression was made that their main army began to be in motion ere we retreated; and John of Valois, having news of the skirmish as he was on the point of entering the gates of Poictiers, reined up, turned back with his whole force, and made for the open fields, with vows of vengeance on his lips.

Meanwhile, returning to the prince, the Captal of Buch informed him as to the appearance presented by the French, and their probable numbers.

"God be our aid," said the prince calmly. "For ourselves we can only do one thing to save ourselves – and that is, to fight them in the most advantageous manner."

CHAPTER LVI

POICTIERS

On the rounded extremity of a chain of hills, surrounded on all sides by narrow ravines, through which flow the waters of the river Clain, an affluent of the Vienne, stands the capital of Poitou, a province which came with Eleanor, heiress of Guienne, to Henry Plantagenet, the first of his race who reigned in England, and which escaped from the grasp of their luckless son, King John, in his struggle with Philip Augustus.

A fair city Poictiers is, and remarkable for its widely-extending walls. In truth, it might claim to be one of the largest cities in France, if judged merely by the space which the walls inclose. But its steep and winding streets and large squares cover only a small portion of the ground included, much of which consists of fields and gardens: and neither the population nor the wealth of the place is, by any means, such as a stranger would naturally suppose when viewing it from the outside. But Poictiers had something to boast of in the shape of historical memorials. While the cathedral, built by Henry Plantagenet, reminds men of the days when a King of England ruled from the Orkneys to the Pyrenees, there are remnants of a civilisation that existed before the name of Plantagenet or of England was known. Here an arch, there an aqueduct, at another place the relics of an amphitheatre, recall to memory the age when Rome was great, and when evidences of Roman grandeur and dominion were everywhere visible.

Nor is Poictiers wanting in historical associations which recall the days of Frankish conquest and prowess in war; for, in the sixth and eighth centuries, its neighbourhood witnessed two famous fights. Near Poictiers, in the year 507, Clovis won a great victory over the Visigoths; and near Poictiers, in 758, Charles Martel won a great victory over the Saracens. It was now to be the scene of a battle in which the French were to sustain a more signal defeat than ever they inflicted, and in which the heir of Clovis and Charles Martel and his chivalry were to have still worse fortune than befell Charlemagne and his paladins at the pass of Roncesvalles.

But as yet no such disaster was dreamt of even by the least sanguine; and, in spite of the lesson they had been taught, the cry of the French, as before Cressy, was "Kill – kill – kill." There was little apprehension of defeat in the streets and squares of Poictiers; almost as little, perhaps, in the ranks of that mighty army which was slowly encamping in the dusk of evening under the banner of France on the plains outside the excited city. The old lion had turned to bay at Cressy, and torn his hunters to pieces. And the young lion should pay dearly for his father's victory.

But within the walls of Poictiers there was, at least, one person, who, albeit regarding the situation of the English as desperate, believed that a battle ought to, and might be prevented. Some time before the Prince of Wales took Romorantin, the Pope sent Cardinal Perigord into France to endeavour to make peace between John of Valois and the enemies whom his vindictive violence had raised up, especially the King of Navarre, who was still detained in prison at Paris. But the mission came to nothing. After several interviews, the cardinal, finding that all his pacific counsels were rejected, returned to Tours, and was there when he learned that John and the Prince of Wales were both advancing towards Poictiers, and that a meeting seemed inevitable. On hearing this, the cardinal, true to his character of peacemaker, hastened to Poictiers; and now, as the two armies took up their quarters for the night, with every prospect of a battle on the morrow, he resolved, ere they could come to blows, to make a great effort, by offering his mediation, to prevent the effusion of Christian blood.