CHAPTER XXXIII. HOW THE ARMY MADE THE PASSAGE OF RONCESVALLES.
The whole vast plain of Gascony and of Languedoc is an arid andprofitless expanse in winter save where the swift-flowing Adour and hersnow-fed tributaries, the Louts, the Oloron and the Pau, run down tothe sea of Biscay. South of the Adour the jagged line of mountains whichfringe the sky-line send out long granite claws, running down into thelowlands and dividing them into "gaves" or stretches of valley. Hillocksgrow into hills, and hills into mountains, each range overlying itsneighbor, until they soar up in the giant chain which raises itsspotless and untrodden peaks, white and dazzling, against the pale bluewintry sky.
A quiet land is this--a land where the slow-moving Basque, with his flatbiretta-cap, his red sash and his hempen sandals, tills his scanty farmor drives his lean flock to their hill-side pastures. It is the countryof the wolf and the isard, of the brown bear and the mountain-goat, aland of bare rock and of rushing water. Yet here it was that the will ofa great prince had now assembled a gallant army; so that from the Adourto the passes of Navarre the barren valleys and wind-swept wastes werepopulous with soldiers and loud with the shouting of orders and theneighing of horses. For the banners of war had been flung to the windonce more, and over those glistening peaks was the highway along whichHonor pointed in an age when men had chosen her as their guide.
And now all was ready for the enterprise. From Dax to St. JeanPied-du-Port the country was mottled with the white tents of Gascons,Aquitanians and English, all eager for the advance. From all sides thefree companions had trooped in, until not less than twelve thousand ofthese veteran troops were cantoned along the frontiers of Navarre. FromEngland had arrived the prince's brother, the Duke of Lancaster, withfour hundred knights in his train and a strong company of archers. Aboveall, an heir to the throne had been born in Bordeaux, and the princemight leave his spouse with an easy mind, for all was well with motherand with child.
The keys of the mountain passes still lay in the hands of the shifty andignoble Charles of Navarre, who had chaffered and bargained both withthe English and with the Spanish, taking money from the one side to holdthem open and from the other to keep them sealed. The mallet hand ofEdward, however, had shattered all the schemes and wiles of the plotter.Neither entreaty nor courtly remonstrance came from the English prince;but Sir Hugh Calverley passed silently over the border with his company,and the blazing walls of the two cities of Miranda and Puenta de laReyna warned the unfaithful monarch that there were other metals besidesgold, and that he was dealing with a man to whom it was unsafe to lie.His price was paid, his objections silenced, and the mountain gorges layopen to the invaders. From the Feast of the Epiphany there was musteringand massing, until, in the first week of February--three days after theWhite Company joined the army--the word was given for a general advancethrough the defile of Roncesvalles. At five in the cold winter's morningthe bugles were blowing in the hamlet of St. Jean Pied-du-Port, and bysix Sir Nigel's Company, three hundred strong, were on their way for thedefile, pushing swiftly in the dim light up the steep curving road; forit was the prince's order that they should be the first to pass through,and that they should remain on guard at the further end until the wholearmy had emerged from the mountains. Day was already breaking in theeast, and the summits of the great peaks had turned rosy red, while thevalleys still lay in the shadow, when they found themselves with thecliffs on either hand and the long, rugged pass stretching away beforethem.
Sir Nigel rode his great black war-horse at the head of his archers,dressed in full armor, with Black Simon bearing his banner behind him,while Alleyne at his bridle-arm carried his blazoned shield and hiswell-steeled ashen spear. A proud and happy man was the knight, and manya time he turned in his saddle to look at the long column of bowmen whoswung swiftly along behind him.
"By Saint Paul! Alleyne," said he, "this pass is a very perilous place,and I would that the King of Navarre had held it against us, for itwould have been a very honorable venture had it fallen to us to win apassage. I have heard the minstrels sing of one Sir Roland who was slainby the infidels in these very parts."
"If it please you, my fair lord," said Black Simon, "I know somethingof these parts, for I have twice served a term with the King of Navarre.There is a hospice of monks yonder, where you may see the roof among thetrees, and there it was that Sir Roland was slain. The village upon theleft is Orbaiceta, and I know a house therein where the right wine ofJurancon is to be bought, if it would please you to quaff a morningcup."
"There is smoke yonder upon the right."
"That is a village named Les Aldudes, and I know a hostel there alsowhere the wine is of the best. It is said that the inn-keeper hath aburied treasure, and I doubt not, my fair lord, that if you grant meleave I could prevail upon him to tell us where he hath hid it."
"Nay, nay, Simon," said Sir Nigel curtly, "I pray you to forget thesefree companion tricks. Ha! Edricson, I see that you stare about you, andin good sooth these mountains must seem wondrous indeed to one who hathbut seen Butser or the Portsdown hill."
The broken and rugged road had wound along the crests of low hills,with wooded ridges on either side of it over which peeped the loftiermountains, the distant Peak of the South and the vast Altabisca, whichtowered high above them and cast its black shadow from left to rightacross the valley. From where they now stood they could look forwarddown a long vista of beech woods and jagged rock-strewn wilderness, allwhite with snow, to where the pass opened out upon the uplands beyond.Behind them they could still catch a glimpse of the gray plains ofGascony, and could see her rivers gleaming like coils of silver in thesunshine. As far as eye could see from among the rocky gorges and thebristles of the pine woods there came the quick twinkle and glitter ofsteel, while the wind brought with it sudden distant bursts of martialmusic from the great host which rolled by every road and by-path towardsthe narrow pass of Roncesvalles. On the cliffs on either side might alsobe seen the flash of arms and the waving of pennons where the force ofNavarre looked down upon the army of strangers who passed through theirterritories.
"By Saint Paul!" said Sir Nigel, blinking up at them, "I think thatwe have much to hope for from these cavaliers, for they cluster verythickly upon our flanks. Pass word to the men, Aylward, that theyunsling their bows, for I have no doubt that there are some veryworthy gentlemen yonder who may give us some opportunity for honorableadvancement."
"I hear that the prince hath the King of Navarre as hostage," saidAlleyne, "and it is said that he hath sworn to put him to death if therebe any attack upon us."
"It was not so that war was made when good King Edward first turned hishand to it," said Sir Nigel sadly. "Ah! Alleyne, I fear that you willnever live to see such things, for the minds of men are more set uponmoney and gain than of old. By Saint Paul! it was a noble sight when twogreat armies would draw together upon a certain day, and all who hada vow would ride forth to discharge themselves of it. What noblespear-runnings have I not seen, and even in an humble way had a part in,when cavaliers would run a course for the easing of their souls and forthe love of their ladies! Never a bad word have I for the French, for,though I have ridden twenty times up to their array, I have never yetfailed to find some very gentle and worthy knight or squire who waswilling to do what he might to enable me to attempt some small feat ofarms. Then, when all cavaliers had been satisfied, the two armies wouldcome to hand-strokes, and fight right merrily until one or other had thevantage. By Saint Paul! it was not our wont in those days to pay goldfor the opening of passes, nor would we hold a king as hostage lesthis people come to thrusts with us. In good sooth, if the war is to becarried out in such a fashion, then it is grief to me that I ever cameaway from Castle Twynham, for I would not have left my sweet lady had Inot thought that there were deeds of arms to be done."
"But surely, my fair lord," said Alleyne, "you have done some greatfeats of arms since we left the Lady Loring."
"I cannot call any to mind," answered Sir Nigel.
"There was the taking of the sea-rovers, and the holding of the keepagainst the Jacks."
"Nay, nay," said the knight, "these were not feats of arms, but merewayside ventures and the chances of travel. By Saint Paul! if it werenot that these hills are over-steep for Pommers, I would ride to thesecavaliers of Navarre and see if there were not some among them who wouldhelp me to take this patch from mine eye. It is a sad sight to see thisvery fine pass, which my own Company here could hold against an army,and yet to ride through it with as little profit as though it were thelane from my kennels to the Avon."
All morning Sir Nigel rode in a very ill-humor, with his Companytramping behind him. It was a toilsome march over broken ground andthrough snow, which came often as high as the knee, yet ere the sun hadbegun to sink they had reached the spot where the gorge opens out on tothe uplands of Navarre, and could see the towers of Pampeluna juttingup against the southern sky-line. Here the Company were quartered in ascattered mountain hamlet, and Alleyne spent the day looking downupon the swarming army which poured with gleam of spears and flaunt ofstandards through the narrow pass.
"Hola, mon gar.," said Aylward, seating himself upon a boulder by hisside. "This is indeed a fine sight upon which it is good to look, and aman might go far ere he would see so many brave men and fine horses.By my hilt! our little lord is wroth because we have come peacefullythrough the passes, but I will warrant him that we have fightingenow ere we turn our faces northward again. It is said that there arefour-score thousand men behind the King of Spain, with Du Guesclin andall the best lances of France, who have sworn to shed their heart'sblood ere this Pedro come again to the throne."
"Yet our own army is a great one," said Alleyne.
"Nay, there are but seven-and-twenty thousand men. Chandos hathpersuaded the prince to leave many behind, and indeed I think that he isright, for there is little food and less water in these parts for whichwe are bound. A man without his meat or a horse without his fodder islike a wet bow-string, fit for little. But voila, mon petit, here comesChandos and his company, and there is many a pensil and banderole amongyonder squadrons which show that the best blood of England is ridingunder his banners."
Whilst Aylward had been speaking, a strong column of archers had defiledthrough the pass beneath them. They were followed by a banner-bearerwho held high the scarlet wedge upon a silver field which proclaimed thepresence of the famous warrior. He rode himself within a spear's-lengthof his standard, clad from neck to foot in steel, but draped in the longlinen gown or parement which was destined to be the cause of his death.His plumed helmet was carried behind him by his body-squire, and hishead was covered by a small purple cap, from under which his snow-whitehair curled downwards to his shoulders. With his long beak-like nose andhis single gleaming eye, which shone brightly from under a thick tuftof grizzled brow, he seemed to Alleyne to have something of the lookof some fierce old bird of prey. For a moment he smiled, as his eye litupon the banner of the five roses waving from the hamlet; but his courselay for Pampeluna, and he rode on after the archers.
Close at his heels came sixteen squires, all chosen from the highestfamilies, and behind them rode twelve hundred English knights, withgleam of steel and tossing of plumes, their harness jingling, their longstraight swords clanking against their stirrup-irons, and the beat oftheir chargers' hoofs like the low deep roar of the sea upon the shore.Behind them marched six hundred Cheshire and Lancashire archers, bearingthe badge of the Audleys, followed by the famous Lord Audley himself,with the four valiant squires, Dutton of Dutton, Delves of Doddington,Fowlehurst of Crewe, and Hawkestone of Wainehill, who had all won suchglory at Poictiers. Two hundred heavily-armed cavalry rode behind theAudley standard, while close at their heels came the Duke of Lancasterwith a glittering train, heralds tabarded with the royal arms ridingthree deep upon cream-colored chargers in front of him. On either sideof the young prince rode the two seneschals of Aquitaine, Sir Guiscardd'Angle and Sir Stephen Cossington, the one bearing the banner of theprovince and the other that of Saint George. Away behind him as far aseye could reach rolled the far-stretching, unbroken river of steel--rankafter rank and column after column, with waving of plumes, glitter ofarms, tossing of guidons, and flash and flutter of countless armorialdevices. All day Alleyne looked down upon the changing scene, and allday the old bowman stood by his elbow, pointing out the crests of famouswarriors and the arms of noble houses. Here were the gold mullets of thePakingtons, the sable and ermine of the Mackworths, the scarlet bars ofthe Wakes, the gold and blue of the Grosvenors, the cinque-foils ofthe Cliftons, the annulets of the Musgraves, the silver pinions of theBeauchamps, the crosses of the Molineaux, the bloody chevron of theWoodhouses, the red and silver of the Worsleys, the swords of theClarks, the boars'-heads of the Lucies, the crescents of the Boyntons,and the wolf and dagger of the Lipscombs. So through the sunny winterday the chivalry of England poured down through the dark pass ofRoncesvalles to the plains of Spain.
It was on a Monday that the Duke of Lancaster's division passed safelythrough the Pyrenees. On the Tuesday there was a bitter frost, and theground rung like iron beneath the feet of the horses; yet ere eveningthe prince himself, with the main battle of his army, had passed thegorge and united with his vanguard at Pampeluna. With him rode the Kingof Majorca, the hostage King of Navarre, and the fierce Don Pedro ofSpain, whose pale blue eyes gleamed with a sinister light as they restedonce more upon the distant peaks of the land which had disowned him.Under the royal banners rode many a bold Gascon baron and many ahot-blooded islander. Here were the high stewards of Aquitaine, ofSaintonge, of La Rochelle, of Quercy, of Limousin, of Agenois, ofPoitou, and of Bigorre, with the banners and musters of their provinces.Here also were the valiant Earl of Angus, Sir Thomas Banaster with hisgarter over his greave, Sir Nele Loring, second cousin to Sir Nigel,and a long column of Welsh footmen who marched under the red bannerof Merlin. From dawn to sundown the long train wound through the pass,their breath reeking up upon the frosty air like the steam from acauldron.
The weather was less keen upon the Wednesday, and the rear-guardmade good their passage, with the bombards and the wagon-train. Freecompanions and Gascons made up this portion of the army to the number often thousand men. The fierce Sir Hugh Calverley, with his yellow mane,and the rugged Sir Robert Knolles, with their war-hardened and veterancompanies of English bowmen, headed the long column; while behind themcame the turbulent bands of the Bastard of Breteuil, Nandon de Bagerant,one-eyed Camus, Black Ortingo, La Nuit and others whose very names seemto smack of hard hands and ruthless deeds. With them also were thepick of the Gascon chivalry--the old Duc d'Armagnac, his nephew Lordd'Albret, brooding and scowling over his wrongs, the giant Oliver deClisson, the Captal de Buch, pink of knighthood, the sprightly SirPerducas d'Albret, the red-bearded Lord d'Esparre, and a long train ofneedy and grasping border nobles, with long pedigrees and short purses,who had come down from their hill-side strongholds, all hungering forthe spoils and the ransoms of Spain. By the Thursday morning the wholearmy was encamped in the Vale of Pampeluna, and the prince had calledhis council to meet him in the old palace of the ancient city ofNavarre.
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