The Winning of the Golden Spurs

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE TABLES TURNED

  ONLY one thing could Raymond do. He sat down on the grassy hillockand watched, knowing well that the fight could but end in one way.

  A little group of Norman knights led the van of the French, whoseforces were composed mostly of towns-men, desperate in their vainattempt to save their town from pillage. Eagerly the keen eyes of thesquire followed their disorderly advance, till they were almost lostto view in the distance.

  To him it seemed as if the white-coated lines of English archersstirred neither hand nor foot, but he knew full well that the blastof deadly arrows had sped, for as if by magic the dark masses of theFrenchmen broke and fled, without coming to hand-grips. Already theEnglish cavalry were in hot pursuit, and the white winding roadleading to the town was outlined with clouds of dust, which almostconcealed the disorderly remnants of the defeated fugitives.

  Directly the advance guard of the fleeing army began to draw near,Raymond rose from the grass and ran swiftly towards the road. TheFrenchmen, each intent upon his own safety, rushed past him, throwingoff their armour to aid their flight, the mounted fugitivesruthlessly riding down their less fortunate countrymen.

  Seated by the roadside was a man-at-arms, who, sorely wounded in theshoulder, was endeavouring to divest himself of his hauberk in orderto ease the pain. Actuated both by his own requirements and a feelingof pity, Raymond helped him to unburden himself of the steel-ringedcoat, and having donned the Frenchman's discarded armour, he bathedhis wound, a deep lance-thrust, with water obtained from a rivuletthat ran by the roadside.

  After rendering this service he proceeded to complete his ownequipment. A heavy sword and a light shield were soon found, and itdid not require much effort on the part of the active squire to seizea riderless horse.

  With difficulty curbing the restlessness of his newly-acquired steed,Raymond urged it into an adjoining field to avoid being swept away bythe panic-stricken horde of fugitives, and eagerly awaited thearrival of the English host.

  Soon the tide of fleeing Frenchmen slackened, and the braver spirits,maintaining a running fight, alone remained to uphold the honour ofthe ill-assorted army of the citizens of Caen.

  Suddenly Raymond's attention was drawn to a knot of mailed figures,who, surrounded by a press of Englishmen, fought savagely with thecourage of despair. One by one the French mounted men-at-arms andsquires fell, till only two knights remained.

  The pair, keeping side by side, held their enemies at bay by a showerof blows from sword and mace, till one, his horse slain by aWelshman, who paid for his act by having his head cleft by aback-handed sweep, was dashed to the ground and made prisoner.

  On seeing his comrade's fate, the other knight urged his horsethrough the crowd of assailants and made a dash for the open field,where Raymond awaited the chance to join his friends.

  Directly the squire caught sight of his emblazoned surcoat and shieldhe recognised the Frenchman--it was none other than the Count ofTancarville!

  Shaking off his pursuers, who preferred to return to squabble overtheir rights to the ransom of the captive knight, the Count rodestraight for the place where Raymond was concealed. When he wastwenty paces off the squire rode forward and barred his way.

  "Yield thyself, Sir Knight!" exclaimed Raymond.

  For a moment the Count gazed with undisguised astonishment at the manwhom he had last seen as a prisoner in his stronghold, then,recovering himself, he put spur to his horse and rode furiously atthe squire.

  The combatants were evenly matched, for the advantage of theFrenchman's complete coat of mail was balanced by the comparativefreshness of his opponent and his steed. The knight had lost hislance, so that the fight was with swords.

  Reining back his horse, Raymond skilfully avoided the first rush, theCount's sword-point missing his unguarded face by a hand's breadth,while the squire's return blow fell harmlessly on his adversary'sshield. Instantly Raymond closed in, and before the knight could turnhis steed to meet the counter-attack, the squire's sword had bitdeeply into his enemy's thigh. Then their blades met, and amid ashower of sparks and the clicking and rasping of steel, Raymond foundhimself at pains to defend his unvisored face, and it was not longbefore the blood was flowing freely from a cut on his cheek. But theCount's previous exertions and the loss of blood from several deepwounds were beginning to tell. His blows did not fall with the samestrength that marked his first rush, though the squire could notbreak down his guard.

  Long they fought, their horses prancing and curveting as if realisingthat their efforts would materially aid their masters' sword-play,till Raymond's untried blade snapped off close to the hilt, and, withthe exception of a short knife, he was left weaponless.

  A quick pull at the reins, and the squire's horse ranged alongsidethat of the Norman. The next instant Raymond had grasped his opponentround the body, and with a mighty heave sought to tear him from thesaddle.

  Between the two plunging steeds the combatants fell, locked in aclose embrace, Raymond uppermost; but before he could make good hisadvantage and demand his enemy's surrender a stunning kick from theCount's horse left its master at the Englishman's mercy.

  Raymond rose to his feet bruised and breathless, and at that moment aband of soldiers came hurrying towards them. The newcomers were thewild-looking Welsh mercenaries, intent on plunder; and, unable tomake them understand who he was, the squire was for a while in dangerof being set upon by these lawless booty-seeking warriors. Standingover the body of the prostrate knight, he beckoned, shouted, andthreatened, till a highly-pitched voice behind him demanded who andwhat he was.

  Raymond turned and saw a gigantic, swarthy, and black-bearded man,clad in a bronze-coloured suit of armour, having a green dragonemblazoned on his surcoat and shield.

  "Squire to Sir John Hacket of Hamptonshire," he replied breathlessly."I pray thee bid these rascals desist."

  A word from the stranger in an unknown tongue, and the Welshmenretired.

  "Rascals, iss what ye call tem?" asked the new arrival, laughingboisterously. "I would haf yes know, poy, tat tey are fromGlamorgan--from Glamorgan, I tell you! And tey are the best men inthe Army, I tell ye, poy, for tey are my men, I, David Evans, knightoff Glamorgan. I pray ye pear tat in mind. I myself tought ye wass aNorman, or at pest a Gascon, seeing ye wass to wear a Frenchman'shauberk."

  The Welsh leader rode off, leaving Raymond to wonder how he couldescape molestation from his friends and still stand by his captive.Most of the pursuers kept to the highway, and only a few came closeto where he stood. In vain he begged and entreated the passingsoldiers to give a hand to carry off the unconscious Count. Even thepromise of a silver penny had no effect, for the English, intent onplunder, were already streaming into Caen with the last of theirfoes, and the comparatively bountiful offer of payment was invariablyrejected with contempt.

  At length, despairing of obtaining assistance, Raymond left hisprisoner and made his way back to the road, hoping to see a familiarface amongst the victorious soldiers who were hurrying forward tojoin in the sack of the town, but there were none of the Hampshirecompanies.

  Picking up another sword to replace his broken weapon, the squirepreferred to go back to guard his captive, consoling himself with thethought that on the Count's return to consciousness he could lead himinto the camp; then, suddenly bethinking himself of the rivulethigher up the road, he hastened towards it to slake his burningthirst.

  This he did, and thereupon made his way back by a different route towhere the Count lay. Barely had he gone half the distance than hecame to a dry ditch, where, to his surprise, he found two fugitivescowering in the long grass that grew in the trench.

  "Je me rends!" they both exclaimed, grovelling at his feet in fear ofinstant death, for, being but peasants, they knew that scant mercywas shown to those who were unable to offer ransom.

  In a moment Raymond saw and seized his chalice. "Vous etes mesprisonniers," he exclaimed, brandishing his weapon. "Venez avec moi."

&nb
sp; Driving them before him, the squire soon reached the place where hehad left the Count of Tancarville, and indicated by signs that theyshould carry him. This they did, panting with their exertions, forthe knight in his complete armour was a heavy burden. Their progresswas slow, till on arriving on the highway Raymond made them take twobroken lances, and forming a rough litter, they were able to make abetter pace.

  At length, they came in sight of the camp, and to his great joyRaymond saw the well-known banner of the crescent on the blue field,waving close to the pavilion over which floated the royal standard ofEngland, for the Constable of Portchester's company was that daydetailed as guard to the camp.

  Great was the delight and astonishment of Sir John Hacket and his menon Raymond's reappearance, for he had been given up for lost; andgreater was the Constable's surprise when his squire, pointing to thelitter, exclaimed with pardonable pride: "Behold, sir, I bring theethe Count of Tancarville according to thy instructions."

  Having handed over his three prisoners and given a brief account ofhis adventures, Raymond retired to a tent to enjoy a well-earned mealand a rest. From one of the archers he learned that his father,maddened by grief and rage at the supposed loss of his son, hadobtained permission to join for the time being the Sussex company ofSir Guy of Bramber, vowing that twenty Norman lives would butill-balance Raymond's death.

  The squire's leisure was of short duration, for Sir John Hacket camein person to inform him that the King had ordered him to appearbefore him.

  Raymond's eyes sparkled with delight, for this was a step at leasttowards his coveted reward, and hastily attiring himself suitably forthe royal presence, he followed the Constable to the King's pavilion.

  It was a large tent, hung with damask, and divided into two parts bya heavy curtain. In the ante-room were crowds of knights awaiting anaudience, their names and titles being carefully set down by aherald, while another, stationed at the flap of the partitioningcurtain, where two knights in full armour stood on guard, announcedthe various personages who had business with their Sovereign.

  Each knight who was ushered into the inner apartment had but a shortstay in the royal presence, and to Raymond, as he waited inbreathless expectation, it seemed as if there was a continuousprocession of warriors, some elated with the prospect of praise andhonour, others nervously ignorant of why they were summoned thither;while others, knowing that their master had cause for displeasure,were pacing the crowded ante-chamber, biting their lips in theiranxiety.

  All the while a buzz of suppressed voices was heard from the innerroom, and occasionally Edward's hearty voice could be clearlydistinguished as he praised or chid according to the merits ordemerits of the person before him.

  Suddenly the sound of a galloping horse was heard, coming rapidlynearer, then, amid a hum of ill-concealed excitement, a knight,covered in mud from head to foot, and breathless from hard riding,burst into the ante-chamber.

  "Ah, Sir William!" he exclaimed to the royal herald, "I pray theeannounce me to the King with all despatch. The matter brooks notdelay!" And clanking in his heavy armour at the heels of the heraldhe disappeared behind the curtain that concealed the royal presencefrom the crowd of waiting knights.

  "'Tis Lord Bassett," whispered Sir John to his squire. "Certes, someevent of much moment hath occurred to bring him from the field.Hearken!"

  The newcomer's voice was distinctly audible to those who waitedwithout. "The men of Caen are holding out stubbornly, Sire, everyhouse being closed to our troops, and our losses from the darts ofthose within are exceeding great. The Welsh levies, aye, and our ownmen as well, are killing without mercy man, woman, and child, yettheir acts do but increase the fury of the men of Caen. I pray you,Sire, that the word goes forth that every soldier shall withdraw fromthe city, for otherwise they threaten to destroy it with fire."

  "But wherefore should we hold our hand?" inquired the King. "They ofCaen set themselves in battle against our hosts, and must ofnecessity abide the consequences."

  "But the spoil, Sire, the spoil! 'Tis the richest town in allNormandy. If we can but prevail on the citizens to lay down theirarms, then the sack can be resumed with more profit and less risk."

  "There's wisdom in thy words," replied Edward, "but thy advice isevery whit the same as the Cardinal Legates gave to us but an houragone. These we told that it was our resolve to brook no interferenceof the Holy Father in matters appertaining to war, but, by myhalidome, the suggestion commends itself to us. Therefore withdrawour troops. Beat a parley with the townsmen, and demand theirsurrender with promise of quarter. Stay! I'll to the front myself!Herald! Dismiss the knights in waiting, and inform them that we willreceive them on the morrow."

  Thus Raymond's opportunity had passed for the present, for when themorrow came, the King in person met the chief magistrate of Caen, andin the presence of the Papal Envoys, agreed to accept theunconditional surrender of the town, pledging his kingly word,however, that the massacre should cease, and before the evening camethe squire was detailed for another errand.

  "Raymond," quoth Sir John Hacket, "I have it in mind that a slightadvancement and no little honour can be obtained if we can seize thestronghold of the Count of Tancarville, and gain possession of thestore of powder and the bombards of which thou hast spoken. Whatthink ye? All the powder was not taken away by the Count?"

  "I think not, sir."

  "And the bombards?"

  "I saw none go; nevertheless they may have sent them away."

  "Then I'll go to Chandos and crave permission to lead the companyagainst this strange hunting-lodge in the Forest of Brique. Meanwhilehave thy two prisoners closely questioned, for, methinks, they knowexactly where this stronghold lieth."

  The Constable hastened to the tent of Sir John Chandos to obtain therequired boon, while Raymond sent for the two Normans whose lives hehad spared. They were, so the squire ascertained, brothers, and onehad been in the service of the Count of Eu, and knew the preciseposition of the Count of Tancarville's forest castle.

  Soon Sir John returned, having succeeded in his mission. One of theprisoners was made to act as guide, and to avoid another blunder hewas told that should the enterprise fail through his neglect ortreachery his brother's life would be forfeit. Rations were servedout to the company, and an hour later Sir John's command, consistingof three squires, thirty men-at-arms, and fifty mounted archers,moved out of camp amid the encouraging shouts of their comrades, anddisappeared in the gathering gloom towards the dark masses of theForest of Brique.