CHAPTER XXIII. HOW ENGLAND HELD THE LISTS AT BORDEAUX. So used were thegood burghers of Bordeaux to martial display and knightly sport, that anordinary joust or tournament was an everyday matter with them. The fameand brilliancy of the prince's court had drawn the knights-errant andpursuivants-of-arms from every part of Europe. In the long lists by theGaronne on the landward side of the northern gate there had been many astrange combat, when the Teutonic knight, fresh from the conquest of thePrussian heathen, ran a course against the knight of Calatrava, hardenedby continual struggle against the Moors, or cavaliers from Portugalbroke a lance with Scandinavian warriors from the further shore of thegreat Northern Ocean. Here fluttered many an outland pennon, bearingsymbol and blazonry from the banks of the Danube, the wilds of Lithuaniaand the mountain strongholds of Hungary; for chivalry was of no climeand of no race, nor was any land so wild that the fame and name of theprince had not sounded through it from border to border.
Great, however, was the excitement through town and district when itwas learned that on the third Wednesday in Advent there would be helda passage-at-arms in which five knights of England would hold the listsagainst all comers. The great concourse of noblemen and famous soldiers,the national character of the contest, and the fact that this was a lasttrial of arms before what promised to be an arduous and bloody war,all united to make the event one of the most notable and brilliant thatBordeaux had ever seen. On the eve of the contest the peasants flockedin from the whole district of the Medoc, and the fields beyond the wallswere whitened with the tents of those who could find no warmer lodging.From the distant camp of Dax, too, and from Blaye, Bourge, Libourne, St.Emilion, Castillon, St. Macaire, Cardillac, Ryons, and all the clusterof flourishing towns which look upon Bordeaux as their mother, therethronged an unceasing stream of horsemen and of footmen, all convergingupon the great city. By the morning of the day on which the courses wereto be run, not less than eighty people had assembled round the listsand along the low grassy ridge which looks down upon the scene of theencounter.
It was, as may well be imagined, no easy matter among so many notedcavaliers to choose out five on either side who should have precedenceover their fellows. A score of secondary combats had nearly arisen fromthe rivalries and bad blood created by the selection, and it was onlythe influence of the prince and the efforts of the older barons whichkept the peace among so many eager and fiery soldiers. Not till the daybefore the courses were the shields finally hung out for the inspectionof the ladies and the heralds, so that all men might know the namesof the champions and have the opportunity to prefer any charge againstthem, should there be stain upon them which should disqualify them fromtaking part in so noble and honorable a ceremony.
Sir Hugh Calverley and Sir Robert Knolles had not yet returned fromtheir raid into the marches of the Navarre, so that the English partywere deprived of two of their most famous lances. Yet there remained somany good names that Chandos and Felton, to whom the selection had beenreferred, had many an earnest consultation, in which every feat ofarms and failure or success of each candidate was weighed and balancedagainst the rival claims of his companions. Lord Audley of Cheshire,the hero of Poictiers, and Loring of Hampshire, who was held to be thesecond lance in the army, were easily fixed upon. Then, of the youngermen, Sir Thomas Percy of Northumberland, Sir Thomas Wake of Yorkshire,and Sir William Beauchamp of Gloucestershire, were finally selected touphold the honor of England. On the other side were the veteran Captalde Buch and the brawny Olivier de Clisson, with the free companionSir Perducas d'Albret, the valiant Lord of Mucident, and Sigismond vonAltenstadt, of the Teutonic Order. The older soldiers among the Englishshook their heads as they looked upon the escutcheons of these famouswarriors, for they were all men who had spent their lives upon thesaddle, and bravery and strength can avail little against experience andwisdom of war.
"By my faith! Sir John," said the prince as he rode through the windingstreets on his way to the list, "I should have been glad to havesplintered a lance to-day. You have seen me hold a spear since I hadstrength to lift one, and should know best whether I do not merit aplace among this honorable company."
"There is no better seat and no truer lance, sire," said Chandos; "but,if I may say so without fear of offence, it were not fitting that youshould join in this debate."
"And why, Sir John?"
"Because, sire, it is not for you to take part with Gascons againstEnglish, or with English against Gascons, seeing that you are lord ofboth. We are not too well loved by the Gascons now, and it is but thegolden link of your princely coronet which holds us together. If that besnapped I know not what would follow."
"Snapped, Sir John!" cried the prince, with an angry sparkle in his darkeyes. "What manner of talk is this? You speak as though the allegianceof our people were a thing which might be thrown off or on like afalcon's jessel."
"With a sorry hack one uses whip and spur, sire," said Chandos; "butwith a horse of blood and spirit a good cavalier is gentle and soothing,coaxing rather than forcing. These folk are strange people, and you musthold their love, even as you have it now, for you will get from theirkindness what all the pennons in your army could not wring from them."
"You are over-grave to-day, John," the prince answered. "We may keepsuch questions for our council-chamber. But how now, my brothers ofSpain, and of Majorca, what think you of this challenge?"
"I look to see some handsome joisting," said Don Pedro, who rode withthe King of Majorca upon the right of the prince, while Chandos was onthe left. "By St. James of Compostella! but these burghers would bearsome taxing. See to the broadcloth and velvet that the rogues bear upontheir backs! By my troth! if they were my subjects they would be gladenough to wear falding and leather ere I had done with them. But mayhapit is best to let the wool grow long ere you clip it."
"It is our pride," the prince answered coldly, "that we rule overfreemen and not slaves."
"Every man to his own humor," said Pedro carelessly. "Carajo! there is asweet face at yonder window! Don Fernando, I pray you to mark the house,and to have the maid brought to us at the abbey."
"Nay, brother, nay!" cried the prince impatiently. "I have had occasionto tell you more than once that things are not ordered in this way inAquitaine."
"A thousand pardons, dear friend," the Spaniard answered quickly, for aflush of anger had sprung to the dark cheek of the English prince. "Youmake my exile so like a home that I forget at times that I am not invery truth back in Castile. Every land hath indeed its ways and manners;but I promise you, Edward, that when you are my guest in Toledo orMadrid you shall not yearn in vain for any commoner's daughter on whomyou may deign to cast your eye."
"Your talk, sire," said the prince still more coldly, "is not such asI love to hear from your lips. I have no taste for such amours as youspeak of, and I have sworn that my name shall be coupled with that of nowoman save my ever dear wife."
"Ever the mirror of true chivalry!" exclaimed Pedro, while James ofMajorca, frightened at the stern countenance of their all-powerfulprotector, plucked hard at the mantle of his brother exile.
"Have a care, cousin," he whispered; "for the sake of the Virgin have acare, for you have angered him."
"Pshaw! fear not," the other answered in the same low tone. "If I missone stoop I will strike him on the next. Mark me else. Fair cousin," hecontinued, turning to the prince, "these be rare men-at-arms and lustybowmen. It would be hard indeed to match them."
"They have journeyed far, sire, but they have never yet found theirmatch."
"Nor ever will, I doubt not. I feel myself to be back upon my thronewhen I look at them. But tell me, dear coz, what shall we do next,when we have driven this bastard Henry from the kingdom which he hathfilched?"
"We shall then compel the King of Aragon to place our good friend andbrother James of Majorca upon the throne."
"Noble and generous prince!" cried the little monarch.
"That done," said King Pedro, glancing out of the corners of his eyesat the
young conqueror, "we shall unite the forces of England, ofAquitaine, of Spain and of Majorca. It would be shame to us if we didnot do some great deed with such forces ready to our hand."
"You say truly, brother," cried the prince, his eyes kindling at thethought. "Methinks that we could not do anything more pleasing to OurLady than to drive the heathen Moors out of the country."
"I am with you, Edward, as true as hilt to blade. But, by St. James!we shall not let these Moors make mock at us from over the sea. We musttake ship and thrust them from Africa."
"By heaven, yes!" cried the prince. "And it is the dream of my heartthat our English pennons shall wave upon the Mount of Olives, and thelions and lilies float over the holy city."
"And why not, dear coz? Your bowmen have cleared a path to Paris, andwhy not to Jerusalem? Once there, your arms might rest."
"Nay, there is more to be done," cried the prince, carried away by theambitious dream. "There is still the city of Constantine to be taken,and war to be waged against the Soldan of Damascus. And beyond him againthere is tribute to be levied from the Cham of Tartary and from thekingdom of Cathay. Ha! John, what say you? Can we not go as far eastwardas Richard of the Lion Heart?"
"Old John will bide at home, sire," said the rugged soldier. "By mysoul! as long as I am seneschal of Aquitaine I will find enough to doin guarding the marches which you have entrusted to me. It would bea blithe day for the King of France when he heard that the seas laybetween him and us."
"By my soul! John," said the prince, "I have never known you turnlaggard before."
"The babbling hound, sire, is not always the first at the mort," the oldknight answered.
"Nay, my true-heart! I have tried you too often not to know. But, by mysoul! I have not seen so dense a throng since the day that we broughtKing John down Cheapside."
It was indeed an enormous crowd which covered the whole vast plain fromthe line of vineyards to the river bank. From the northern gate theprince and his companions looked down at a dark sea of heads, brightenedhere and there by the colored hoods of the women, or by the sparklinghead-pieces of archers and men-at-arms. In the centre of this vastassemblage the lists seemed but a narrow strip of green marked out withbanners and streamers, while a gleam of white with a flutter of pennonsat either end showed where the marquees were pitched which served as thedressing-rooms of the combatants. A path had been staked off from thecity gate to the stands which had been erected for the court and thenobility. Down this, amid the shouts of the enormous multitude, theprince cantered with his two attendant kings, his high officers ofstate, and his long train of lords and ladies, courtiers, counsellors,and soldiers, with toss of plume and flash of jewel, sheen of silk andglint of gold--as rich and gallant a show as heart could wish. The headof the cavalcade had reached the lists ere the rear had come clear ofthe city gate, for the fairest and the bravest had assembled from allthe broad lands which are watered by the Dordogne and the Garonne. Hererode dark-browed cavaliers from the sunny south, fiery soldiers fromGascony, graceful courtiers of Limousin or Saintonge, and gallant youngEnglishmen from beyond the seas. Here too were the beautiful brunettesof the Gironde, with eyes which out-flashed their jewels, while besidethem rode their blonde sisters of England, clear cut and aquiline,swathed in swans'-down and in ermine, for the air was biting thoughthe sun was bright. Slowly the long and glittering train wound into thelists, until every horse had been tethered by the varlets in waiting,and every lord and lady seated in the long stands which stretched, richin tapestry and velvet and blazoned arms, on either side of the centreof the arena.
The holders of the lists occupied the end which was nearest to the citygate. There, in front of their respective pavilions, flew the martletsof Audley, the roses of Loring, the scarlet bars of Wake, the lion ofthe Percies and the silver wings of the Beauchamps, each supported bya squire clad in hanging green stuff to represent so many Tritons, andbearing a huge conch-shell in their left hands. Behind the tents thegreat war-horses, armed at all points, champed and reared, while theirmasters sat at the doors of their pavilions, with their helmets upontheir knees, chatting as to the order of the day's doings. The Englisharchers and men-at-arms had mustered at that end of the lists, but thevast majority of the spectators were in favor of the attacking party,for the English had declined in popularity ever since the bitter disputeas to the disposal of the royal captive after the battle of Poictiers.Hence the applause was by no means general when the herald-at-armsproclaimed, after a flourish of trumpets, the names and styles of theknights who were prepared, for the honor of their country and for thelove of their ladies, to hold the field against all who might do themthe favor to run a course with them. On the other hand, a deafeningburst of cheering greeted the rival herald, who, advancing from theother end of the lists, rolled forth the well-known titles of the fivefamous warriors who had accepted the defiance.
"Faith, John," said the prince, "it sounds as though you were right.Ha! my grace D'Armagnac, it seems that our friends on this side will notgrieve if our English champions lose the day."
"It may be so, sire," the Gascon nobleman answered. "I have little doubtthat in Smithfield or at Windsor an English crowd would favor their owncountrymen."
"By my faith! that's easily seen," said the prince, laughing, "for a fewscore English archers at yonder end are bellowing as though they wouldout-shout the mighty multitude. I fear that they will have little toshout over this tourney, for my gold vase has small prospect of crossingthe water. What are the conditions, John?"
"They are to tilt singly not less than three courses, sire, and thevictory to rest with that party which shall have won the greater numberof courses, each pair continuing till one or other have the vantage. Hewho carries himself best of the victors hath the prize, and he who isjudged best of the other party hath a jewelled clasp. Shall I order thatthe nakirs sound, sire?"
The prince nodded, and the trumpets rang out, while the champions rodeforth one after the other, each meeting his opponent in the centre ofthe lists. Sir William Beauchamp went down before the practiced lanceof the Captal de Buch. Sir Thomas Percy won the vantage over the Lordof Mucident, and the Lord Audley struck Sir Perducas d'Albret fromthe saddle. The burly De Clisson, however, restored the hopes of theattackers by beating to the ground Sir Thomas Wake of Yorkshire. So far,there was little to choose betwixt challengers and challenged.
"By Saint James of Santiago!" cried Don Pedro, with a tinge of colorupon his pale cheeks, "win who will, this has been a most notablecontest."
"Who comes next for England, John?" asked the prince in a voice whichquivered with excitement.
"Sir Nigel Loring of Hampshire, sire."
"Ha! he is a man of good courage, and skilled in the use of allweapons."
"He is indeed, sire. But his eyes, like my own, are the worse for wars.Yet he can tilt or play his part at hand-strokes as merrily as ever. Itwas he, sire, who won the golden crown which Queen Philippa, your royalmother, gave to be jousted for by all the knights of England afterthe harrying of Calais. I have heard that at Twynham Castle there is abuffet which groans beneath the weight of his prizes."
"I pray that my vase may join them," said the prince. "But here is thecavalier of Germany, and by my soul! he looks like a man of great valorand hardiness. Let them run their full three courses, for the issue isover-great to hang upon one."
As the prince spoke, amid a loud flourish of trumpets and the shoutingof the Gascon party, the last of the assailants rode gallantly into thelists. He was a man of great size, clad in black armor without blazonryor ornament of any kind, for all worldly display was forbidden by therules of the military brotherhood to which he belonged. No plume ornobloy fluttered from his plain tilting salade, and even his lance wasdevoid of the customary banderole. A white mantle fluttered behind him,upon the left side of which was marked the broad black cross pickedout with silver which was the well-known badge of the Teutonic Order.Mounted upon a horse as large, as black, and as forbidding as himself,he cantered slowly
forward, with none of those prancings and gambadeswith which a cavalier was accustomed to show his command over hischarger. Gravely and sternly he inclined his head to the prince, andtook his place at the further end of the arena.
He had scarce done so before Sir Nigel rode out from the holders'enclosure, and galloping at full speed down the lists, drew his chargerup before the prince's stand with a jerk which threw it back uponits haunches. With white armor, blazoned shield, and plume ofostrich-feathers from his helmet, he carried himself in so jaunty andjoyous a fashion, with tossing pennon and curveting charger, that ashout of applause ran the full circle of the arena. With the air of aman who hastes to a joyous festival, he waved his lance in salute, andreining the pawing horse round without permitting its fore-feet to touchthe ground, he hastened back to his station.
A great hush fell over the huge multitude as the two last championsfaced each other. A double issue seemed to rest upon their contest, fortheir personal fame was at stake as well as their party's honor. Bothwere famous warriors, but as their exploits had been performed in widelysundered countries, they had never before been able to cross lances. Acourse between such men would have been enough in itself to cause thekeenest interest, apart from its being the crisis which would decide whoshould be the victors of the day. For a moment they waited--the Germansombre and collected, Sir Nigel quivering in every fibre witheagerness and fiery resolution. Then, amid a long-drawn breath fromthe spectators, the glove fell from the marshal's hand, and the twosteel-clad horsemen met like a thunderclap in front of the royal stand.The German, though he reeled for an instant before the thrust of theEnglishman, struck his opponent so fairly upon the vizor that the lacesburst, the plumed helmet flew to pieces, and Sir Nigel galloped on downthe lists with his bald head shimmering in the sunshine. A thousandwaving scarves and tossing caps announced that the first bout had fallento the popular party.
The Hampshire knight was not a man to be disheartened by a reverse. Hespurred back to the pavilion, and was out in a few instants with anotherhelmet. The second course was so equal that the keenest judges could notdiscern any vantage. Each struck fire from the other's shield, and eachendured the jarring shock as though welded to the horse beneath him. Inthe final bout, however, Sir Nigel struck his opponent with so true anaim that the point of the lance caught between the bars of his vizor andtore the front of his helmet out, while the German, aiming somewhatlow, and half stunned by the shock, had the misfortune to strike hisadversary upon the thigh, a breach of the rules of the tilting-yard, bywhich he not only sacrificed his chances of success, but would alsohave forfeited his horse and his armor, had the English knight chosento claim them. A roar of applause from the English soldiers, with anominous silence from the vast crowd who pressed round the barriers,announced that the balance of victory lay with the holders. Already theten champions had assembled in front of the prince to receive his award,when a harsh bugle call from the further end of the lists drew all eyesto a new and unexpected arrival.