The Lances of Lynwood

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XIV

  The open space beyond the walls of Bordeaux presented a bright andlively scene. It was here that the pages of the Black Prince were wontto exercise those sports and pastimes for which the court of the palacescarce offered sufficient space, or which were too noisy for theneighbourhood of the ladies, and of the invalid Prince.

  Of noble and often of princely birth were all who entered that schoolof chivalry, and, for the most part, the fine open countenances, noblebearing, and well-made figures of the boys, testified their highdescent, as completely as the armorial bearings embroidered on the backand front of their short kirtles. Many different provinces had senttheir noblest to be there trained in the service of the bravest Knightsand Princes. There, besides the brown-haired, fair-skinned Englishboy, was the quick fiery Welsh child, who owned an especial allegianceto the Prince; the broad blue-eyed Fleming, whose parents rejoiced inthe fame of the son of Philippa of Hainault; the pert, lively Gascon,and the swarthy Navarrese mountaineer--all brought together in closeand ever-changing contrast of countenance, habits, and character.

  Of all the merry groups scattered through that wide green space, themost interesting was one formed by three boys, who stood beneath atree, a little from the rest. The two eldest might be from ten toeleven years old, the third two or three years younger, and hisdelicate features, fair pale complexion, and slender limbs, made himappear too weak and childish for such active sports as the rest wereengaged in, but that the lordly glance of his clear blue eye, his firmtread, and the noble carriage of his shapely head, had in themsomething of command, which attracted notice even before the exceedingbeauty of his perfectly moulded face, and long waving curls of goldenhair.

  So like him, that they might have passed for brothers, was one of theelder boys, who stood near--there was the same high white brow, proudlip, regular features, and bright eye; but the complexion, thoughnaturally fair, was tanned to a healthy brown where exposed to the sun;the frame was far stronger and more robust; and the glance of the eyehad more in it of pride and impatience, than of calm command soremarkable in the little one. The three boys were standing inconsultation over an arrow which they had just discovered, stuck deepin the ground.

  "'Tis my arrow, that I shot over the mark on Monday," said the elder.

  "Nay, Harry," said the younger boy, "that cannot be; for rememberThomas Holland said your arrow would frighten the good nuns of St.Ursula in their garden."

  "It must be mine," persisted Harry--"for none of you all can shoot asfar."

  "Yes, English Arthur can," said the little boy. "He shot a wholecloth-yard beyond you the day--"

  "Well, never mind, Edward," said Harry, sharply--"who cares forarrows?--weapons for clowns, and not for Princes!"

  "Nay, not so, Lord Harry," interrupted the third boy: "I have heard myuncle say, many a time, that England's archery is half herstrength--and how it was our archers at the battle of Crecy--"

  "I know all that--how the men of Genoa had wet bow-strings, and oursdry ones," said Henry; "but they were peasants, after all!"

  "Ay; but a King of England should know how to praise and value his goodyeomen."

  Henry turned on his heel, and, saying, "Well, let the arrow be whose itwill, I care not for it," walked off.

  "Do you know why Harry of Lancaster goes, Arthur?" said Edward, smiling.

  "No, my Lord," replied Arthur.

  "He cannot bear to hear aught of King of England," was the answer. "Ifyou love me, good Arthur, vex him not with speaking of it."

  "Father Cyril would say, he ought to learn content with the rank wherehe was born," said Arthur.

  "Father Cyril, again!" said Prince Edward. "You cannot live a daywithout speaking of him, and of your uncle."

  "I do not speak of them so much now," said Arthur, colouring, "It isonly you, Lord Edward, who never make game of me for doing so--though,I trow, I have taught Pierre de Greilly to let my uncle's name alone."

  "Truly, you did so," said Edward, laughing, "and he has scarce yet losthis black eye. But I love to hear your tales, Arthur, of that quietCastle, and the old Blanc Etoile, and your uncle, who taught you toride. Sit down here on the grass, and tell me more. But what are youstaring at so fixedly? At the poor jaded horse, that yonderman-at-arms is urging on so painfully?"

  "'Tis--No, it is not--Yes, 'tis Brigliador, and John Ingram himself,"cried Arthur. "Oh, my uncle! my uncle!" And, in one moment, he hadbounded across the ditch, which fenced in their exercising ground, andhad rushed to meet Ingram. "Oh, John!" exclaimed he, breathlessly,"have they done it? Oh, tell me of Uncle Eustace! Is he alive?"

  "Master Arthur!" exclaimed Ingram, stopping his wearied horse.

  "Oh, tell me, Ingram," reiterated Arthur, "is my uncle safe?"

  "He is alive, Master Arthur--that is, he was when I came away, but assore wounded as ever I saw a Knight. And the butcher of Brittany isupon them by this time! And here I am sent to ask succours--and I knowno more whom to address myself, than the cock at the top of Lynwoodsteeple!"

  "But what has chanced, John?--make haste, and tell me."

  And John, in his own awkward and confused style, narrated how he hadbeen entrapped by Sanchez, and the consequences of his excess. "But,"said he, "I have vowed to our Lady of Taunton, and St. Joseph ofGlastonbury, that never again--"

  Arthur had covered his face with his hands, and gave way to tears ofindignation and grief, as he felt his helplessness. But one hand waskindly withdrawn, and a gentle voice said, "Weep not, Arthur, but comewith me, and my father will send relief to the Castle, and save youruncle."

  "You here, Lord Edward?" exclaimed Arthur, who had not perceived thatthe Prince had followed him. "Oh yes, thanks, thanks! None but thePrince can save him. Oh, let me see him myself, and that instantly!"

  "Then, let us come," said Edward, still holding Arthur's hand.

  Arthur set off at such a pace, as to press the little Prince into abreathless trot by his side; but he, too, was all eagerness, andscorned to complain. They proceeded without interruption to the courtof the palace. Edward, leading the way, hastened to his mother'sapartments. He threw open the door, looked in, and, saying to Arthur,"He must be in the council chamber," cut short an exclamation of LadyMaude Holland, by shutting the door, and running down a long gallery toan ante-chamber, where were several persons waiting for an audience,and two warders, with halberts erect, standing on guard outside aclosed door.

  "The Prince is in council, my Lord."

  Edward drew up his head, and, waving them aside with a gesture thatbecame the heir of England, said, "I take it upon myself." He thenopened the door, and, still holding Arthur fast by the hand, led himinto the chamber where the Prince of Wales sat in consultation.

  There was a pause of amazement as the two boys advanced to the highcarved chair on which the Prince was seated--and Edward exclaimed,"Father, save Arthur's uncle!"

  "What means this, Edward?" demanded the Prince of Wales, somewhatsternly. "Go to your mother, boy--we cannot hear you now, and--"

  "I cannot go, father," replied the child, "till you have promised tosave Arthur's uncle! He is wounded!--the traitors have woundedhim!--and the French will take the Castle, and he will be slain! AndArthur loves him so much!"

  "Come here, Edward," said the Prince, remarking the flushed cheek andtearful eye of his son, "and tell me what this means."

  Edward obeyed, but without loosing his hold of his young friend's hand."The man-at-arms is come, all heat and dust, on the poor drooping,jaded steed--and he said, the Knight would be slain, and the Castletaken, unless you would send him relief. It is Arthur's uncle that heloves so well."

  "Arthur's uncle?" repeated the Prince--and, turning his eyes on thesuppliant figure, he said, "Arthur Lynwood! Speak, boy."

  "Oh, my Lord," said Arthur, commanding his voice with difficulty, "Iwould only pray you to send succour to my uncle at Chateau Norbelle,and save him from being murdered by Oliver de Clisson."

  It was a voice
which boded little good to Arthur's suit that now spoke."If it be Sir Eustace Lynwood, at Chateau Norbelle, of whom the youngPrince speaks, he can scarce be in any strait, since the garrison ismore than sufficient."

  The little page started to his feet, and, regarding the speaker withflashing eyes, exclaimed, "Hearken not to him, my Lord Prince! He isthe cause of all the treachery!--he is the ruin and destruction of myuncle;--he has deceived you with his falsehoods!--and now he would behis death!"

  "How now, my young cousin!" said Clarenham, in a most irritating toneof indifference--"you forget in what presence you are."

  "I do not," replied Arthur, fiercely. "Before the Prince, FulkClarenham, I declare you a false traitor!--and, if you dare deny it,there lies my gloves!"

  Fulk only replied by a scornful laugh, and, addressing the Prince,said, "May I pray of your Grace not to be over severe with my youngmalapert relation."

  The Captal de Buch spoke: "You do not know what an adversary you haveprovoked, Fulk! The other day, I met my nephew, little Pierre, with aneye as black as the patch we used to wear in our young days ofknight-errantry. 'What wars have you been in, Master Pierre?' I asked.It was English Arthur who had fought with him, for mocking at histalking of nothing but his uncle. But you need not colour, and look soabashed, little Englishman!--I bear no more malice than I hope Pierredoes--I only wish I had as bold a champion! I remember thine uncle, ifhe is the youth to whom the Constable surrendered at Navaretta, and ofwhom we made so much."

  "Too much then, and too little afterwards," said old Sir John Chandos.

  "You do not know all, Chandos," said the Prince.

  "You do not yourself know all, my Lord," said Arthur, turning eagerly."Lord de Clarenham has deceived you, and led you to imagine that myuncle wished ill to me, and wanted to gain my lands; whereas it is hehimself who wants to have me in his hands to bend me to his will. It ishe who has placed traitors in Chateau Norbelle to slay my uncle anddeliver him to the enemy; they have already wounded him almost todeath"--here Arthur's lips quivered, and he could hardly restrain aburst of tears--"and they have sent for Sir Oliver de Clisson, thebutcher. Gaston will hold out as long as they can, but if you will notsend succours, my Lord, he will--will be slain; and kind Gaston too;"and Arthur, unable to control himself any longer, covered his face withhis hands, and gave way to a silent suppressed agony of sobs and tears.

  "Cheer thee, my boy," said the Prince, kindly; "we will see to thineuncle." Then, looking at his nobles, he continued, "It seems thatthese varlets will allow us no more peace; and since there does intruth appear to be a Knight and Castle in jeopardy, one of you had,perhaps, better go with a small band, and clear up this mystery. If itbe as the boy saith, Lynwood hath had foul wrong."

  "I care not if I be the one to go, my Lord," said Chandos; "my men areaver kept in readiness, and a night's gallop will do the lazy knavesall the good in the world."

  Arthur, brushing off the tears, of which he was much ashamed, looked atthe old Knight in transport.

  "Thanks, Chandos," said the Prince; "I would commit the matter to noneso willingly as to you, though I scarce would have asked it,considering you were not quite so prompt on a late occasion."

  "My Lord of Pembroke will allow, however, that I did come in time,"said Sir John. "It was his own presumption and foolhardiness that gothim into the scrape, and he was none the worse for the lesson hereceived. But this young fellow seems to have met with this mischanceby no fault of his own; and I am willing to see him righted; for he isa good lad as well as a brave, as far as I have known him."

  "How came the tidings?" asked the Prince. "Did not one of you boys saysomewhat of a man-at-arms?"

  "Yes, my Lord," said Arthur; "John Ingram, my uncle's own yeoman, hascome upon Brigliador with all speed. I sent him to the guard-room,where he now waits in case you would see him."

  "Ay," said old Chandos, "a man would have some assurance that he is notgoing on a fool's errand. Let us have him here, my Lord."

  "Cause him to be summoned," said the Prince to Arthur.

  "And at the same time," said Chandos, "send for my Squire, HenryNeville, to the ante-chamber. The men may get on their armour in themeantime."

  In a few minutes John Ingram made his appearance, the dust not yetwiped from his armour, his hair hanging is disordered masses over hisforehead, and his jaws not completely resting from the mastication of ahuge piece of pasty. His tale, though confused, could not be for aninstant doubted, as he told of the situation in which he had leftChateau Norbelle and its Castellane, "The best man could wish to liveunder. Well, he hath forgiven me, and given me his hand upon it."

  "Forgiven thee--for what?" said the Prince.

  "Ah! my Lord, I may speak of treason, but I am one of the traitorsmyself! Did not the good Knight leave me in charge to make my roundsconstantly in the Castle, while he slept after his long watching? andlo, there comes that wily rascal, the Seneschal, Sanchez, with his''Tis a cold night, friend John; the Knight wakes thee up early; comedown to the buttery, and crack a cup of sack in all friendliness!'Down then go I, oaf that I was, thinking that, may be, our Knight wasover strict and harsh, and pulled the reins so tight, that a poorman-at-arms must needs get a little diversion now and then--as theproverb says, 'when the cat's away, the mice may play.' But it wasdrugged, my Lord, else when would one cup of spiced wine have soovercome me that I knew nought till I hear Master d'Aubricour shoutingtreason in the courtyard like one frantic? But the Knight has forgivenme, and I have sworn to our blessed Lady of Taunton, and St. Joseph ofGlastonbury, that not a draught of wine, spiced or unspiced, shallagain cross my lips."

  "A wholesome vow," said the Prince; "and her is a token to make theeremember it,"--and he placed in the hand of the yeoman a chain of somevalue. "Go to the guard-room, where you shall be well entertained tillsuch time as we need thee again, as we may, if you have been, as yousay, long in Sir Eustace Lynwood's service. But what now? Hast more tosay?"

  "I would say--so please you, my Lord--that I pray you but to let meride back to Chateau Norbelle with this honourable Knight, for I oweall service to Sir Eustace, nor could I rest till I know how it fareswith him."

  "As you will, good fellow," said the Prince; "and you, Chandos, comewith me to my chamber--I would speak with you before you depart."

  "My Lord," said Arthur, "would you but grant me one boon--to go withSir John to Chateau Norbelle?"

  "You too? You would almost make me think you all drawn by witchcraftto this Castle!" But Arthur's eagerness extorted a consent, and herode off amid Sir John Chandos's troop, boldly enough at first, but byand by so sleepily, that, as night advanced, Sir John ordered him to beplaced in front of a trooper, and he soon lost all perception of therough rapid pace at which they travelled. It was broad day when he wasawakened by a halt, and the first thing he heard was, "There is St.George's pennon still safe!"

  He sat upright, gazed eagerly forwards, and beheld a tall dark towerrising by the bank of a stream at some distance. "Chateau Norbelle?"he asked.

  "Oh, ho! my little page," said Chandos. "You are alive again, are you?Ay, Chateau Norbelle it is--and we are in time it seems! But let ushave you on your own steed again. And let us see--if Oliver be therehimself, we shall have sharp work. Ay, keep you by the side of the oldmaster leech there--he will be sure to keep out of peril. Now--closein--lances in rest--bows bent. Forward banner!"

  Arthur, by no means approving of the companionship assigned him,contrived to wedge in his pony a little in the rear of Sir John's twoSquires, as the whole squadron rode down the slope of the hill, and upthe ascent on which the Castle stood. Loud cries and shrieks fromwithin began to strike their ears--the clash of arms--all the tumult ofattack and defence raging fearfully high and wild.

  "Ho, ho! friend Oliver!--we have you in a trap!" said old Chandos, inhigh glee, as he drew up close without the walls. "Neville, guard thegates!"

  He signed to about half his band to remain without, and cut off theretreat of th
e enemy. The Jew doctor chose his post in their rear,close to the Castle moat--but not so Arthur. Unnoticed and forgotten,he still kept close behind the Squire, who rode alongside of Sir JohnChandos, as he crossed the drawbridge. The Castle gate was open, andshowed a wild confused mass of struggling men and flashing arms. Itwas the last, most furious onset, when Clisson, enraged by the longresistance of so weak a garrison, was concentrating his strength in oneeffort, and, in the excitement of the assault, he had failed to remarkthat his sentinels had transgressed his orders, and mingled with thecrowd, who were striving, by force of numbers, to overwhelm the smalltroop of defenders of the bartizan.

  In rushed Chandos, shouting his war-cry!--In dashed his stout warriors,and loud and fierce pealed forth "St. George! St George!" drowning thenow feebler note of "Montjoie, St. Denis!" and fearful were the shrieksof horror and of pain that rose mingled with it. Hemmed in, attacked infront and rear, their retreat cut off, the French looked in vain forescape; some went down beneath the tremendous charge of the English,some cried for mercy, and surrendered as prisoners. Oliver de Clissonhimself, seeing that all was lost, swinging round his head his heavybattle-axe, opened for himself a way, and, with a few followers, brokethrough the men whom Chandos had left outside, and, cutting down agroom who was holding it, captured one of his led horses, on which herode off at his leisure, confident in his own gigantic strength.

  So little resistance had been offered, that Arthur's bold advance hadinvolved him in little danger; he was borne onwards, and only wasconscious of a frightful tumult, where all seemed to be striking andcrushing together. At last, there was something of a lull; the criesof mercy, and offers to surrender, alone were heard. Arthur found hispony standing still, and himself pressed hither and thither by thecrowd, from which he knew not how to escape.

  Above these various sounds he heard an opening door--there was a pressforward, which carried him with it. The heavy doors, shivered here andthere by Clisson's axe, had been thrown wide open; but the crowd closedin--he saw no more. He threw himself from his pony, struggledforwards, and at last, emerging between the arms of two tall men, hebeheld Sir John Chandos dismounting from his war-horse, which was heldby a grim, bloody, dusty figure in broken armour, whose length of limb,and the crisp, black, curled hair that showed through the shatteredhelmet, proved that it could be no other than Gaston d'Aubricour.

  Arthur darted forwards, his heart upon his lips; but neither Knight norSquire had eye or ear for him; they were hastily exchanging queriesabout--he knew not what--they were not of his uncle; and, borne on byhis impatience, he hurried past them up the narrow stone stair. Morethan one corpse--a ghastly sight--lay on the steps, but he hastened on;half a dozen men were standing on the stones at the top, all, likeGaston, dusty and gory, and leaning on their weapons, or on the wall,as if exhausted. They were looking intently at the court, and gave noheed to the boy, as he ran on into the hall. Two men lay theregroaning before the fire. Arthur stood and looked round, hesitatingwhether to ask them for his uncle; but, perceiving the spiral stairs,quickly ascended. Far and far up he wound, till he came to a low-browedarch; he paused, and saw a large vaulted room, through the loop-holewindow of which shone a yellow stream of golden sunshine. There was alow bed in one corner, and on it lay a motionless form. On tiptoe, andwith a throbbing heart, the boy approached; he saw the face--it wasghastly pale. He stood transfixed--could it be?--yes, it must stillbe, his own Uncle Eustace.