With the Turks on our side and the Grifons back among their own fortresses our castles need not be strongly garrisoned. Sir John de Catabas joined us to take command of the mesnie of Escorta. His hand was still too stiff to hold a sword, but he sat his horse like a young man. He knew us and would make us do our utmost. It was beginning to look as though we might win this war.
Among Sk John's pages was my young Geoffrey, already a veteran and making sure that the others knew it. I did not see too much of him, for the whole point of sending out a boy to be nourished as a page is to get him away from the shelter of his family; but he assured me that all was well with Melisande and the younger children, and that the castle of Carytena was in no danger even though the Esclavons of Escorta were raiding once again.
Our strengthened army marched south for Mistra, hoping to drive the Grifons clear out of our land. But on the way we heard that the Grand Domestic had moved westward to lay siege to the de la Roche castle of Veligoute. Since there was still a strong garrison in Mistra the Grifon army was now divided, and we rode swiftly to interpose between its two parts.
Unfortunately, just as we always heard of every movement of the Emperor's men, so did the Domestic know what we were doing. In Romanie it is impossible to keep anything secret. Between Veligoute and Mistra lies a steep range of mountains, a northward continuation of the chain of La Grande Maigne. I never learned the French name of these hills; but in the Grifon tongue either the range or the pass through it, I am not sure which, is known as Makryplagi. In this strong position the Domestic awaited us, having raised the siege of Veligoute.
Everything promised a good straightforward battle, the kind of fight in which Franks should always beat Grifons. The other side had no horse-bowmen to complicate our tactics. Frankish knights were to storm a strong position held by Grifon horse and foot; that it was a strong position only made it easier for us, since it is only difficult to beat Grifons when they keep retiring out of reach.
Our vanguard was placed under the command of Sir John de Catabas, which meant that as at Pelagonie the mesnie of Escorta would charge first before the whole host. Our main battle was made up of Turks, under their own leaders but advised by Sir Ancelin de Toucy, who could speak to them without an interpreter. The rearguard, the mesnies of Villehardouin and de la Roche, would be led by the Prince in person. Prince William excused his post in the rear by saying that he was feeling his age; it never occurred to anyone to note that Sir John de Catabas was considerably older, and with a useless right hand in addition. In those days the Franks of Lamorie divided warriors into two classes: good knights who fought bravely while taking care of their own lives, and Sir John de Catabas who was capable of anything.
As a matter of fact the Grifons put up a very good fight; or at least the first line of them. At the top of the pass there was a stretch of flat ground. The Grifons had built a wall of loose stones at the edge of the ascent. Their foot held this wall, and on the flat ground in rear there was room for their horse. But the real trouble was that until we reached the crest we could not see the enemy, and they then were very close to us. That can be unnerving.
We plodded up a steep slope, the mesnie of Escorta in the van with St. John de Catabas at the head of it. The going was so steep that my saddle began to slip; I had to lie forward on Sylvia's withers and take my feet out of the stirrups, for she was herring-gutted, with no bulge in her ribs to hold the girth in place. But years of campaigning among the crags of Escorta had accustomed me to riding in any posture.
As our faces came level with the wall the Grifons loosed a shower of arrows, and we had to scramble at them without the impetus of a proper charge. Over the heads of the foot we could see a line of horse in the background, the usual light-armed sergeants in flimsy mail; but even light-armed sergeants can do damage if they charge full tilt into knights who have been brought to a halt. It all looked most unpleasant. After a little ineffectual poking we retired down the slope to avoid the arrow-shower.
Sir John stormed at us, of course, and as soon as we were reformed led us to a second attack. It was most humiliating to be stuck there in plain sight of all the other mesnies. But it was also most dangerous to charge home against the Grifon wall. Before the second attack I managed to tighten my girths, though it meant riding into the assault with my mail gloves dangling from my wrists for lack of time to wriggle into them again. But now I could sit properly in the saddle.
Again we were driven back, though this time I got so close to the wall that Sylvia's feet and my lance dislodged some loose stones. But it was a position that must be captured quickly or not at all; once we were brought to a stand the arrows thudded at close range into our mail Perhaps it was a pity that safety lay so near; fifty yards down the slope and no arrow could reach us. It was a strong temptation, to which we yielded.
A third time we tried, again with no success; though we did for a few minutes get in among the enemy. We drove their foot back from the wall, by this time a mere heap of scattered stones; we were pushing them hard when their horse charged and got us on the run. Once over the brink there was no stopping us until we were safe from the arrows, but luckily the Grifons were too cautious to pursue.
It seemed that Sir John was going to throw a fit before all his followers. He trembled with rage; as we formed up again he shouted a speech at us, a really well-balanced speech considering that it must have been composed extempore; but it did not strike home to our hearts.
He told us that the men of Escorta were shamed before all their comrades, that our knightly spurs ought to be hacked from our heels, that if we counted on the Crusading pardon to free us from the penalty for the disgusting sins in which we wallowed we were very much mistaken; that pardon was granted to knights who fought infidels or schismatics, not to knights who ran away from them; religion apart, it was unseemly that knights should retire before miserable infantry. Then he went on to speak of honour, and chivalry, and the ladies who were waiting to hear of our gallant deeds. Those were not things we had thought about during this war; you don't, if you welcome Turks as allies. But suddenly I saw that Sir John himself was a true knight out of the old romances. He had been cuckolded by his lord, and still he served the fee he was sworn to protect; at Brenice he had charged so gallantly that he had been reasonably mistaken for St. George; when he said that next time he would go on alone, to plant the banner of Villehardouin in the Grifon camp, I knew he meant it; even though the malicious little demon who points out the ridiculous side of solemn occasions reminded me that Sir John could not plant a banner anywhere, unless he got a servant to help him.
Sir John meant everything he said, even to the flourish at the end about death before dishonour. But none of his hearers were stirred by his devotion. We would attack again if we must; because a trained fighting man obeys orders even when he knows them to be futile. But we were resigned to defeat, and anxious chiefly to survive it. You cannot live long in Romanie and continue to believe that western knights are always invincible.
The next assault would have been a very nasty affair, unwillingly delivered and bloodily repulsed; luckily another leader came up to send us spurring against that ruined wall. Sir Ancelin de Toucy pushed past to address us as we formed in rank, and his approach was more in keeping with our private sentiments.
"What's this, boys?" he said with a grin. "My beastly savages sent me to find out whether you are still on their side. Are you? You ought to be, you know, if you can recognise what is good for you. Malik and Salik have given up the promise of six months' pay for a chance to plunder the camp of the Grand Domestic; and they ought to know what it's worth, since they were inside it a few weeks ago. There will be enough for us as well. These Turks have a very high standard of living, though you might not think it to look at them. As I said, they sent me to ask whether you are still fighting. But I watched as I climbed this damned steep hill and I can see you are not. Instead you are playing hide and seek with a gang of rascally Grifon foot-soldiers. That's enough o
f that. What will your ladies say when they hear of it ? Now go and clear those people out of the way, and while you rob the dead my Turks can have a go at the horse in the second line."
I don't say that is the only way to talk to wavering knights; sometimes an invocation of glory and chivalry will spur them on to heroism. But it was the way to talk to the mesnie of Escorta on the hillside of Makryplagi. Our fourth assault was delivered as fiercely as if we had never been repulsed.
I suppose the Grifon foot were as tired as we were. Every time they pushed us back they must have expected their own horse to come in and complete the business; and three times their horse had left them still holding the forefront of the battle. That is a lot to ask of infantry, who consider that since they are socially inferior to horse they may also give place to them on the battlefield.
Suddenly we were over the wall and advancing across the level summit, driving before us those unhappy archers and spearmen. There were still the Grifon horse to be dealt with, and we were exhausted; Sylvia could hardly lift her feet off the ground. But just at the right moment Sir Ancelin led up his Turks, and behind them rode the Prince and his rearguard of fresh knights.
The first squadron of Grifon sergeants made a fight of it, though of course they were quickly overthrown. But the supports who were drawn up behind them, far down the reverse slope of the pass, rode off the field in panic without waiting to draw their swords. Among Grifons that happens much too often. They take pride in the fact that their armies are commanded from the rear; they say it is a mark of civilisation, and that a general in the rear can seize chances and order manoeuvres that would never be seen by a hero in the thick of the fray. It may be a good way to get full advantage from a victory; but when things are going wrong a commander behind his men can do nothing but lead them in flight.
The mesnie of Escorta took no part in the pursuit. We had got to the bottom of our horses; we dismounted on the hillside to plunder the dead by the wall, as Sir Ancelin had foretold. But it was by all accounts a most bloody and remunerative pursuit.
The Grifons were pressed so hard that soon their squadrons dissolved into a cloud of fugitives. The Prince's men were after good ransoms, and did not trouble themselves to kill humble sergeants; but Turks enjoy killing for its own sake and they rode, with bloody swords and empty quivers, until their ponies could go no farther. It was ironical that these blood-seeking Turks should after all take the greatest haul of ransoms. The Grifon leaders had in cold blood deserted their men to seek shelter in a deep cave among the mountains. The Turks found them in this blind alley, to the number of more than three hundred and fifty; practically all the officers of the army of Mistra, from the Grand Domestic down. It was such a mighty catch that Malik and Salik could not keep it all for themselves. After some argument the leading captives were delivered to the Prince.
For the time being there was a pause in the War of Mistra, though of course it will not really end until one side or the other has been driven right out of Lamorie; after various truces and treaties it still smoulders at the present day. Prince William ravaged the open country as far as the walls of Malvoisie, but there was such unrest among our own Grifon subjects that he had not the leisure to besiege any strong place. The frontier remained as before; save that La Cremonie, the disputed town, was now empty and desolate.
Malik and Salik were loosed on the rebels of Escorta and central Lamorie. They harried them so savagely that the local village chiefs soon begged for peace. Then, to our great relief, the infidel Turks honestly began their long journey home by riding north into Great Wallachia; many were killed by Wallachs or Grifons, but it is said that the others got safely back to Asia. May they remain there.
Some heathen Turks accepted baptism, on the condition that they should be given land as well as eternal salvation. Oddly enough, they made useful settlers. The lesser men among them are excellent shepherds and horse-breeders; their gentry, for Turks value good birth, undertook the obligations of knighthood and in some cases married Frankish heiresses. Though a horde of Turks is an unmitigated evil, a single Turk can be taught decent behaviour. They are brave, and they keep their promises. If they were not unfortunately dedicated to Mahound it might be possible to make civilised men out of the whole race.
The ransoms of the Grifon leaders brought needed money into our ravaged country, though by bad luck the Grand Domestic died a natural death while we were still haggling over his price. With great forethought Sir Ancelin had sought and obtained the ransom of Macrinus as the reward of victory. He did not exchange him for money, but bought the freedom of his brother Sir Philip, who had been captured at the fall of Constantinople and held in a Grifon prison ever since. Many other Frankish captives were freed at the same time, for the Emperor was willing to pay very high for Macrinus. We supposed that one of the few fighting captains of the Grifons was needed at any cost. But it turned out that Palaeologue wanted his eyes rather than his sword. There was a rumour that at Makryplagi Macrinus had deliberately betrayed his lord, in the interest of some rival claimant to the Empire. As soon as the prisoner reached Constantinople he was blinded, and then cast into a dungeon where he died. That is how Grifons reward their leaders.
14. THE RETURN OF SIR GEOFFREY
By autumn the mesnie of Escorta were back in Carytena, preparing to keep Christmas in a land ravaged but at peace. The Turks had reduced our peasants to obedience, in the usual Turkish manner. But there were still enough of them alive to plough the fields, and by next harvest there would be bread for all. The spoil we had taken in the Grifon camp, and the first trickle of Grifon ransom-money, enabled us to buy grain in Sicily. The prospect of freedom from invasion meant that after two or three good harvests the barony of Escorta would be as prosperous as before the war.
My dear Melisande was well, and as beautiful as ever; our three children were growing up to be French-speaking castle-dwelling gentry, with courteous manners and the prospect of a sound education. I still held no fee, and when I died they would have no inheritance; but Romanie is a land of opportunity. They had a much better chance of success than if I had stayed on the March of Wales as younger brother and hanger-on to a poor rustic knight.
The lady Isabel ruled the barony well, and kept such good order in the castle that it was an excellent place for young children to grow up in. Her military affairs were managed by her constable, Sir John de Catabas, so famous as the hero of Brenice that no one recalled his cuckoldry. He was a dull old stick, who frowned on tournaments as likely to damage mail and destriers; but in one way that was a good thing, for it meant that the lady Isabel did not like him as a person. Her de la Roche cousins were always in and out of the castle, and they saw to it that we were kept amused; but Sir John and his liege-lady, both lacking their married partners, could rule the fee jointly and be constantly together without raising the slightest breath of scandal. Sir John was a good knight, who would never surprise his comrades. You could trust him to manage the fee of another without scheming to take it for himself, and leave him alone with the most attractive lady. Not the best company for a jolly Christmas, but a useful man to have in command.
Then, on the morrow of Epiphany 1265, very early on a dark winter morning, I was roused from sleep by Melisande climbing back into bed. Even the most courteous husband is entitled to ask for information in these circumstances, especially as Melisande seemed to be trying not to wake me. "Good morning, my dear. Where have you been?" I asked, I hope without any tremor of alarm in my voice.
"Outside, where just now it's very cold," said Melisande with a shiver. "If you want details, I have been down to the lower gate. The sentry there can vouch for my good behaviour."
"Very well, my dear, but you should have told me you were going. You know it's against standing orders, after the castle has been shut for the night. Everyone does it, of course, but it annoys Sir John. Now I shall know what he's talking about when he tells me to keep better order in my household. I won't ask who it was you met. One of those devi
ous Grifon intrigues, I suppose. One day I shall hear all about it, when you are ready to tell me."
I turned over as though for more sleep. It was unkind; but I was genuinely curious, and I knew that the quickest way to get the news out of Melisande was to pretend it did not interest me.
Sure enough, she prodded me fiercely in the ribs and told all.
"I went down because of something a kitchen-maid whispered yesterday. You will never guess whom I met there, not if you go on guessing for a thousand years. So I must tell you. I have been talking with madam Jeanne de Catabas, if that is still her right name."
That made me sit up. I climbed out of bed and worked my tinder-box until a torch was burning in the wall-ring. There would be no more sleep before morning Mass.
"Yes, little Jeanne is back from Italy, and anxious to know how the land lies. Will Sir John kill her at sight, or lock her up in a dungeon for life? I said he wouldn't harm her, and that at worst he would turn her out again. I hope you agree with me ? It will be terrible if I have enticed her to her death."
"You were quite right," I answered soothingly. "Sir John would never harm a lady. He would think it unknightly. In fact he thinks it unknightly to lay a finger on a lady, either to please her or to hurt her. Perhaps that's why his wife left him."
"That's more or less what I told Jeanne. There's a chance he may take her back, and if he doesn't she will be no worse off than she is now. She plans to enter the great hall at dinner-time. She will publicly admit her wrongdoing and beg for mercy. Perhaps he will forgive her, and if not she will be allowed to leave the castle. Poor little Jeanne, I don't know what will become of her."
"She ought to have thought of that before she ran away with Sir Geoffrey. But has he cast her off, to beg her way back to her husband? It's not like him to desert a lady, even after he has ruined her. Surely he has not been so rash as to come back with her to Carytena ? That would be too much. Sir John must fight him, and it will be a miserable joust. Sir Geoffrey will gain no glory by knocking down a cripple old enough to be his father; but if Sir John is in earnest the only way to stop him will be to bowl him over. Whatever the outcome, a good knight will be hurt and shamed."
Lord Geoffrey's Fancy Page 25