CHAPTER XIV
RAYMOND'S ERRAND
NEARLY four years have elapsed since the young squire's mission toHennebon. They have been years of comparatively uneventful waiting.To him the dark clouds of unkind fate showed no signs of the silverlining of good fortune, for he fully realised that until he had risenabove the rank of squire he dare not hope for the hand of the fairLady Audrey Scarsdale.
Thus, there was nothing to do but wait patiently, under the orders ofkindly Sir John Hacket, fervently hoping for the call to arms thatwould give him the opportunities of winning his spurs upon the soilof France.
The three years' truce had been ill-kept. Already the Earl of Derbyhad crossed into Guienne, but news, though scanty, was far fromreassuring, and daily the Constable of Portchester was awaiting thesummons to assemble his men and march to join the King's forces atSouthampton.
One afternoon, in the month of May 1346, the watch on the keep of thecastle perceived a man limping towards the gate. He was tall,broad-shouldered, and bronzed-faced, yet bent with physicalinfirmity, being compelled to use a rough crutch to aid his totteringfootsteps.
"Ho, Watkin!" exclaimed one of the soldiers to a comrade. "Surelythat looks like Long Edney, of Wickham, yet methinks I am mistaken."
"If't be, then, certes, he hath made a grievous error; for he went toGuienne, hoping to return speedily with much booty. This man hathpain to carry himself, let alone the plunder he hath not!"
"'Tis Edney, of a surety. See, he waves his hand to us!"
In a few moments the luckless man-at-arms was within the castle,surrounded by a crowd of rough sympathisers. Hearing the sound ofvoices, Sir John Hacket appeared, and, recognising the man as one whohad left his service some time previously to join the forces underLord Norwich, sent Raymond to lead Edney into his presence.
"'Tis a sad home-coming for thee," exclaimed the knightsympathetically. "Yet Heaven knows there are many such. The highwaysare thick with broken soldiers."
"Ay, Sir John," returned the man despondently. "A bolt through thethigh is a sorry return for my trouble, and not a silver penny'sworth of spoil to show for it! Nevertheless, the saints helping me, Ihope to adventure myself again in this matter."
"And with better luck," rejoined the Constable. "And, now tell me,how goes the war in Guienne?"
"Faith, it goeth against us in the main. Pembroke and Sir WalterManny are shut up in Aiguillon, and when I left Bordeaux they hadsent urgent appeals for succour. For my part I know but little ofAiguillon, being besieged with Lord Norwich in Angouleme."
"And how fared Norwich?"
"As crafty as ever."
"How so?"
"The Duke of Normandy pressed him sorely, so that the French lookedlikely to take the town by escalade. Thereupon Norwich beat a parley.'How, now!' exclaimed the Duke. 'Dost wish to give in?' 'Nay,'replied our leader, 'but as to-morrow is the Feast of the Virgin, towhom we both bear great devotion, I desire a cessation of strife forthat day.' 'Right willingly,' replied the Duke, and Norwich, nighbursting with badly-concealed merriment, descended from the walls.That night he ordered us to prepare our baggage, and early nextmorning we marched out straight for the enemy's camp. The Frenchmenflew to arms, but Norwich, forbidding our men to draw, sent a knightto remind the Duke of his promise."
"And what did the Duke?"
"He kept his word. 'I see the sly fox has outwitted us, but let us becontent with gaining the town,' he exclaimed; and right between thelines of astonished Frenchmen we marched, without losing as much as asingle stick."
"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed Sir John. "A clever trick, but, methinks,'twill not pass another time. And Pembroke hath sent an urgentmessage to the King for aid, didst thou say?"
"Ay, directly our ship tied up alongside the quay at Southampton themessenger rode off at headlong speed to Windsor, although he couldscarce keep his seat by reason of sea-sickness."
"Then, Raymond," exclaimed the Constable, turning to his squire, "thesummons will be here anon. But, mark my word, this will be nochild's-play, for, methinks, the King will be loth to let Guienneslip through his fingers. And now, bring me the tally of the bows,arrows, and spears, for no time must be lost."
Joyfully the squire hastened away to get the required information,and the castle was soon alive with excitement at the thought ofactive service.
The old knight was not wrong; the call to arms came, and, thanks tohis sagacity and forethought, the Constable was soon ready to takethe field. Ere June had arrived Sir John's company had marched intoSouthampton to await the King's good pleasure.
Raymond saw great changes as he gazed around the old familiar place.The walls had been raised and strengthened; larger houses had takenthe place of the charred ruins that the French invaders had leftbehind them, while a fleet of large ships showed that Southampton hadquickly recovered from the horrors of pillage.
The fleet was typical of the resources of Hampshire, for Southamptoncontributed twenty-one ships manned by 476 mariners, Lymington sentnine, Portsmouth five, Leepe, Newtown, and Yarmouth two each, whilethe county of Dorset supplied twenty-five vessels, of which Weymouthsent twenty-one and Poole four.
Farther down the Water towards Hythe lay a larger fleet, composed ofvessels from the Cinque Ports, London, Ipswich, and Great Yarmouth,while towards the Netley side were the West Country ships fromDartmouth, Sutton, Fowey, and Falmouth.
Altogether there were not far short of eight hundred sail, assembledin less than fourteen days, to bear across the Channel the huge armydestined for the conquest of France.
On Midsummer Day, the Feast of St. John the Baptist, the news camethat the King had left the Queen in the care of his cousin, the Earlof Kent, and was on the road to Southampton.
Instantly the work of embarking the troops, horses, and baggagebegan, and never before did the good townsmen of Southampton beholdsuch a fair and martial sight. Throughout the long June day the taskproceeded, and a seemingly endless procession wended through the WestGate, each division having its appointed order.
The Portsmouth ships were to form the rearguard, so that it was theduty of the Constable of Portchester to embark last of all. From hisquarters, close to the West Gate, Sir John watched the embarkation,pointing out to his squires the respective devices and banners of thevarious contingents.
From all parts of the kingdom, save the northern counties, whose menwere required to watch the restive Scots, had this army foregathered,the flower of chivalry and the stoutest of the yeomen of England.There were the lions rampant of the Percies, Mowbrays, and d'Albini,each distinguishable by the "field," the ruddy chevrons of the deClaves, the gilded cockle-shell of the de Malets, and the morecomplicated devices of de Montfichet, Quince, Fortibus, de Bohun, de.Vere, and Fitz-Walter. Each baron had his following of men-at-armsand archers, the former having to lower the points of their longslender spears as they passed beneath the vaulted archway. After thefeudal army, numbering four thousand men-at-arms and ten thousandarchers, came a horde of fierce-eyed, hairy men of short stature,each armed with a long knife and a double-bladed axe.
"Ah," exclaimed Sir John, noting the look of inquiry on Raymond'sface. "Heaven help the Frenchman who falls wounded in the field, forthese are the Welsh levies. I have marked their method of fightingbefore to-day, and, certes, I am of no mind to praise them for it."
The Welshmen were succeeded by a straggling body of tall,gaunt-looking men, armed with a small shield and short spear. Theylacked the grim stolidity of the Englishmen, and marched with merrylaugh and careless jest uttered in a strange tongue.
"The Irish levies from Leinster," remarked the Constable,"good-natured in peace, honest fighting-men, yet terrible whenroused. I can recall a little affair before Cadsand, but 'tis toolong to relate at the moment. But hark!"
Redoubled cheering echoed down the narrow sloping street, and theknight and his squires strained their ears to ascertain the cause.The last of the troops had passed, yet still the archers who linedthe route pushed back the excited townsmen w
ith their six-footstaves.
"The King!" exclaimed the Constable.
Attended by a number of lords and barons, Edward rode slowly throughthe crowded street, acknowledging the acclamations by the faintestinclination of his head. He was then in his thirty-fourth year, yetthe cares of his kingdom and the claims of his Lombard and Flemishcreditors had made him look considerably older. A longish dark beardpartially concealed a hard, firm mouth, while his dark piercing eyes,glittering beneath his broad forehead and bushy eyebrows, betokened awar-like temperament. His coat of plate-armour, fashioned in thelatest style, was covered by a surcoat, upon which were embroideredhis newly-assumed arms, the fleur-de-lis of France, quartered withthe silver lions of England, while a velvet cap took the place, forthe time being, of his plumed bascinet.
At his right hand rode his fifteen-year-old son, Edward, afterwardsknown to fame as The Black Prince; while at his left rode LordGodfrey of Harcourt, the King's much-esteemed councillor.
Burning with ill-concealed impatience Edward, with his suite,embarked that very evening, and ere morning dawned the fleet had leftthe shelter of Southampton Water, and was heading westward for theEnglish Channel, the Portsmouth ships, with the Constable and hiscompany, rolling sluggishly in the rear, about a league astern of themain body.
With the favouring north-easterly breeze all went well, and steadilythe floating army neared the coasts of France; but on the third daycame a flat calm, so that the ships were compelled to use theirsweeps to prevent themselves drifting into one another.
The calm was succeeded by a strong south-westerly gale, so that alladvantage of the previous favourable breeze was totally lost; and,unable to make headway, the fleet was driven back towards the Englishcoast, taking shelter in the Cornish harbour of Fowey.
For six days the fleet lay weather-bound, till Sir Godfrey ofHarcourt counselled the King to give up the idea of landing inGascony.
"Sire," he exclaimed, "Normandy is one of the plenteous countries ofthe world. On jeopardy of my head, if thou wouldst land there, thereis none to resist thee. The people of Normandy are not used to war,and all the knights and squires of the country are now at the siegebefore Aiguillon."
The advice, though hardly correct, the King took, and, the windmoderating and blowing more in their favour, the fleet again put tosea, and reached La Hogue without further incident.
Arrived on the coast of Normandy, the English began to make arevengeful attack on the ports of Cherbourg and Barfleur, the shipsof these ports having harried the coasts of England in times past,and with fierce shouts the soldiers pillaged the defenceless towns,burning every ship they found in the harbours.
One night, Sir John Hacket, who had been in audience with the King,returned to his quarters in high glee.
"Raymond," he exclaimed, "the King hath again done signal honour tomy Company. News hath reached us that the Count of Tancarville, whois the most puissant noble in Normandy, lieth at a hunting lodge nearthe village of Brique, within five leagues of the camp. He hath, weare told, no knowledge of our presence. Could we but entrap him andbring him a prisoner into the camp, it will clear the way for ouradvance, for, bereft of the counsel of the Count of Tancarville, allNormandy would be masterless. Now, consider; I have a free hand inthis small matter, and can use the whole of my Company to myadvancement. What think ye? Is it better to take but a few mountedmen, or adventure with them all?"
"In my humble opinion, Sir John," replied Raymond, "the matter isbest undertaken by but a few. Too many would give alarm. A few would,in the case of our plans miscarrying, be but little missed, and ifthey do succeed, then the greater the honour!"
"Thy words do thee credit, Raymond, and, by St. George, a betterleader for the enterprise than thou I cannot choose. Take your choiceof mounted men, and begone. A guide is even now detained in the camp,who will lead you to Brique. Now, remember, alive or dead, bring theCount into the camp, but alive by choice."
Quickly the young squire went about preparations for his mission.Five trusted men-at-arms were chosen, and their arms and horsescarefully inspected by their young leader, who resolved to leavenothing to chance. Then, placing their guide, a heavy-limbed Normanpeasant, upon a spare horse, and attaching a light chain to his wrist(one end being held by a soldier with orders to despatch the man atthe first sign of treachery), the little party left the camp, passedthe outlying cordon of sentries, and plunged into the darkness.
By degrees the horsemen became accustomed to the gloom, and, ridingclosely together, with the guide in their midst, they maintained abrisk pace towards their goal, and ere long the camp-fires of theircomrades were lost to sight behind them.
The night was sultry; not a leaf stirred on the branches of the treesthat lined the road, and a dull oppressive feeling pervaded theatmosphere.
Suddenly the faint rumble of distant thunder was borne to their ears,and instinctively the horsemen glanced at one another, for athunder-storm was looked upon by the mediaeval soldier as a harbingerof evil.
Nearer and nearer came the storm, till the lightning flashed acrosstheir path, illuminating the horizon with its sulphurous glow, but asyet not a drop of rain had fallen.
Meanwhile their guide had kept perfectly silent, answering thequestions put to him with either a nod or a shake of his head. ThoughRaymond had acquired a smattering of the French language he wasunable to understand the patois of the peasant, so one of themen-at-arms was deputed to put any necessary question to theirimpassive guide.
At length they reached the confines of a dense forest, and hardly hadthey gained the dangerous shelter of the trees than down came therain, accompanied by almost incessant flashes of lightning.
Dazzled by the appalling light, and almost deafened by the sharpdetonating rattle of the thunder, the little party rode in fear andtrembling till their guide stopped them with a motion of his hand,and indicating an almost invisible avenue that forked from the roadthey were following, exclaimed, "V'la, m'sieurs!"
"Ask him how far it is to the Count's hunting-lodge!" exclaimedRaymond.
"He says 'not far.'"
"Certes, I am as wise as before. Ask him again." The man mumbledsomething unintelligible, then held up two fingers.
"A murrain on his thick-headedness; fair Sir, I cannot rightly tellwhat he doth mean."
"Then be cautious. Remember, directly we catch sight of the place,one man remains with the guide and the rest follow me!"
The path was too narrow for two to ride abreast, so they proceeded insingle file, the guide leading, with a soldier, leaning over hiscrupper to give the necessary length of chain, following closelybehind and through the avenue, so dense that even the lightningalmost failed to illumine, Raymond's party rode on their desperateerrand.
The Winning of the Golden Spurs Page 15