CHAPTER XXIV. HOW A CHAMPION CAME FORTH FROM THE EAST.
The Bordeaux lists were, as has already been explained, situatedupon the plain near the river upon those great occasions when thetilting-ground in front of the Abbey of St. Andrew's was deemed to betoo small to contain the crowd. On the eastern side of this plain thecountry-side sloped upwards, thick with vines in summer, but now ridgedwith the brown bare enclosures. Over the gently rising plain curved thewhite road which leads inland, usually flecked with travellers, but nowwith scarce a living form upon it, so completely had the lists drainedall the district of its inhabitants. Strange it was to see such a vastconcourse of people, and then to look upon that broad, white, emptyhighway which wound away, bleak and deserted, until it narrowed itselfto a bare streak against the distant uplands.
Shortly after the contest had begun, any one looking from the listsalong this road might have remarked, far away in the extreme distance,two brilliant and sparkling points which glittered and twinkled inthe bright shimmer of the winter sun. Within an hour these had becomeclearer and nearer, until they might be seen to come from the reflectionfrom the head-pieces of two horsemen who were riding at the top of theirspeed in the direction of Bordeaux. Another half-hour had broughtthem so close that every point of their bearing and equipment could bediscerned. The first was a knight in full armor, mounted upon a brownhorse with a white blaze upon breast and forehead. He was a short man ofgreat breadth of shoulder, with vizor closed, and no blazonry upon hissimple white surcoat or plain black shield. The other, who was evidentlyhis squire and attendant, was unarmed save for the helmet upon hishead, but bore in his right hand a very long and heavy oaken spear whichbelonged to his master. In his left hand the squire held not only thereins of his own horse but those of a great black war-horse, fullyharnessed, which trotted along at his side. Thus the three horses andtheir two riders rode swiftly to the lists, and it was the blare of thetrumpet sounded by the squire as his lord rode into the arena whichhad broken in upon the prize-giving and drawn away the attention andinterest of the spectators.
"Ha, John!" cried the prince, craning his neck, "who is this cavalier,and what is it that he desires?"
"On my word, sire," replied Chandos, with the utmost surprise upon hisface, "it is my opinion that he is a Frenchman."
"A Frenchman!" repeated Don Pedro. "And how can you tell that, my LordChandos, when he has neither coat-armor, crest, or blazonry?"
"By his armor, sire, which is rounder at elbow and at shoulder than anyof Bordeaux or of England. Italian he might be were his bassinet moresloped, but I will swear that those plates were welded betwixt this andRhine. Here comes his squire, however, and we shall hear what strangefortune hath brought him over the marches."
As he spoke the attendant cantered up the grassy enclosure, and pullingup his steed in front of the royal stand, blew a second fanfare uponhis bugle. He was a raw-boned, swarthy-cheeked man, with black bristlingbeard and a swaggering bearing.
Having sounded his call, he thrust the bugle into his belt, and, pushinghis way betwixt the groups of English and of Gascon knights, he reinedup within a spear's length of the royal party.
"I come," he shouted in a hoarse, thick voice, with a strong Bretonaccent, "as squire and herald from my master, who is a very valiantpursuivant-of-arms, and a liegeman to the great and powerful monarch,Charles, king of the French. My master has heard that there is joustinghere, and prospect of honorable advancement, so he has come to ask thatsome English cavalier will vouchsafe for the love of his lady to run acourse with sharpened lances with him, or to meet him with sword, mace,battle-axe, or dagger. He bade me say, however, that he would fight onlywith a true Englishman, and not with any mongrel who is neither Englishnor French, but speaks with the tongue of the one, and fights under thebanner of the other."
"Sir!" cried De Clisson, with a voice of thunder, while his countrymenclapped their hands to their swords. The squire, however, took no noticeof their angry faces, but continued with his master's message.
"He is now ready, sire," he said, "albeit his destrier has travelledmany miles this day, and fast, for we were in fear lest we come too latefor the jousting."
"Ye have indeed come too late," said the prince, "seeing that the prizeis about to be awarded; yet I doubt not that one of these gentlemen willrun a course for the sake of honor with this cavalier of France."
"And as to the prize, sire," quoth Sir Nigel, "I am sure that I speakfor all when I say this French knight hath our leave to bear it awaywith him if he can fairly win it."
"Bear word of this to your master," said the prince, "and ask him whichof these five Englishmen he would desire to meet. But stay; your masterbears no coat-armor, and we have not yet heard his name."
"My master, sire, is under vow to the Virgin neither to reveal his namenor to open his vizor until he is back upon French ground once more."
"Yet what assurance have we," said the prince, "that this is not somevarlet masquerading in his master's harness, or some caitiff knight,the very touch of whose lance might bring infamy upon an honorablegentleman?"
"It is not so, sire," cried the squire earnestly. "There is no man uponearth who would demean himself by breaking a lance with my master."
"You speak out boldly, squire," the prince answered; "but unless I havesome further assurance of your master's noble birth and gentle name Icannot match the choicest lances of my court against him."
"You refuse, sire?"
"I do refuse."
"Then, sire, I was bidden to ask you from my master whether you wouldconsent if Sir John Chandos, upon hearing my master's name, shouldassure you that he was indeed a man with whom you might yourself crossswords without indignity."
"I ask no better," said the prince.
"Then I must ask, Lord Chandos, that you will step forth. I have yourpledge that the name shall remain ever a secret, and that you willneither say nor write one word which might betray it. The name is----"He stooped down from his horse and whispered something into the oldknight's ear which made him start with surprise, and stare with muchcuriosity at the distant Knight, who was sitting his charger at thefurther end of the arena.
"Is this indeed sooth?" he exclaimed.
"It is, my lord, and I swear it by St. Ives of Brittany."
"I might have known it," said Chandos, twisting his moustache, and stilllooking thoughtfully at the cavalier.
"What then, Sir John?" asked the prince.
"Sire, this is a knight whom it is indeed great honor to meet, and Iwould that your grace would grant me leave to send my squire for myharness, for I would dearly love to run a course with him."
"Nay, nay, Sir John, you have gained as much honor as one man can bear,and it were hard if you could not rest now. But I pray you, squire, totell your master that he is very welcome to our court, and that winesand spices will be served him, if he would refresh himself beforejousting."
"My master will not drink," said the squire.
"Let him then name the gentleman with whom he would break a spear."
"He would contend with these five knights, each to choose such weaponsas suit him best."
"I perceive," said the prince, "that your master is a man of great heartand high of enterprise. But the sun already is low in the west, andthere will scarce be light for these courses. I pray you, gentlemen, totake your places, that we may see whether this stranger's deeds are asbold as his words."
The unknown knight had sat like a statue of steel, looking neither tothe right nor to the left during these preliminaries. He had changedfrom the horse upon which he had ridden, and bestrode the black chargerwhich his squire had led beside him. His immense breadth, his sterncomposed appearance, and the mode in which he handled his shield and hislance, were enough in themselves to convince the thousands of criticalspectators that he was a dangerous opponent. Aylward, who stood inthe front row of the archers with Simon, big John, and others of theCompany, had been criticising the proceedings from the commencement withthe ea
se and freedom of a man who had spent his life under arms and hadlearned in a hard school to know at a glance the points of a horse andhis rider. He stared now at the stranger with a wrinkled brow and theair of a man who is striving to stir his memory.
"By my hilt! I have seen the thick body of him before to-day. Yet Icannot call to mind where it could have been. At Nogent belike, or wasit at Auray? Mark me, lads, this man will prove to be one of the bestlances of France, and there are no better in the world."
"It is but child's play, this poking game," said John. "I would faintry my hand at it, for, by the black rood! I think that it might beamended."
"What then would you do, John?" asked several.
"There are many things which might be done," said the foresterthoughtfully. "Methinks that I would begin by breaking my spear."
"So they all strive to do."
"Nay, but not upon another man's shield. I would break it over my ownknee."
"And what the better for that, old beef and bones?" asked Black Simon.
"So I would turn what is but a lady's bodkin of a weapon into a veryhandsome club."
"And then, John?"
"Then I would take the other's spear into my arm or my leg, or whereit pleased him best to put it, and I would dash out his brains with myclub."
"By my ten finger-bones! old John," said Aylward, "I would give myfeather-bed to see you at a spear-running. This is a most courtly andgentle sport which you have devised."
"So it seems to me," said John seriously. "Or, again, one might seizethe other round the middle, pluck him off his horse and bear him to thepavilion, there to hold him to ransom."
"Good!" cried Simon, amid a roar of laughter from all the archers round."By Thomas of Kent! we shall make a camp-marshal of thee, and thoushalt draw up rules for our jousting. But, John, who is it that youwould uphold in this knightly and pleasing fashion?"
"What mean you?"
"Why, John, so strong and strange a tilter must fight for the brightnessof his lady's eyes or the curve of her eyelash, even as Sir Nigel doesfor the Lady Loring."
"I know not about that," said the big archer, scratching his head inperplexity. "Since Mary hath played me false, I can scarce fight forher."
"Yet any woman will serve."
"There is my mother then," said John. "She was at much pains at myupbringing, and, by my soul! I will uphold the curve of her eyelashes,for it tickleth my very heart-root to think of her. But who is here?"
"It is Sir William Beauchamp. He is a valiant man, but I fear that he isscarce firm enough upon the saddle to bear the thrust of such a tilteras this stranger promises to be."
Aylward's words were speedily justified, for even as he spoke the twoknights met in the centre of the lists. Beauchamp struck his opponent ashrewd blow upon the helmet, but was met with so frightful a thrust thathe whirled out of his saddle and rolled over and over upon the ground.Sir Thomas Percy met with little better success, for his shield wassplit, his vambrace torn and he himself wounded slightly in the side.Lord Audley and the unknown knight struck each other fairly upon thehelmet; but, while the stranger sat as firm and rigid as ever upon hischarger, the Englishman was bent back to his horse's cropper by theweight of the blow, and had galloped half-way down the lists ere hecould recover himself. Sir Thomas Wake was beaten to the ground with abattle-axe--that being the weapon which he had selected--and had to becarried to his pavilion. These rapid successes, gained one after theother over four celebrated warriors, worked the crowd up to a pitch ofwonder and admiration. Thunders of applause from the English soldiers,as well as from the citizens and peasants, showed how far the love ofbrave and knightly deeds could rise above the rivalries of race.
"By my soul! John," cried the prince, with his cheek flushed and hiseyes shining, "this is a man of good courage and great hardiness. Icould not have thought that there was any single arm upon earth whichcould have overthrown these four champions."
"He is indeed, as I have said, sire, a knight from whom much honor is tobe gained. But the lower edge of the sun is wet, and it will be beneaththe sea ere long."
"Here is Sir Nigel Loring, on foot and with his sword," said the prince."I have heard that he is a fine swordsman."
"The finest in your army, sire," Chandos answered. "Yet I doubt not thathe will need all his skill this day."
As he spoke, the two combatants advanced from either end in full armorwith their two-handed swords sloping over their shoulders. The strangerwalked heavily and with a measured stride, while the English knightadvanced as briskly as though there was no iron shell to weigh down thefreedom of his limbs. At four paces distance they stopped, eyed eachother for a moment, and then in an instant fell to work with a clatterand clang as though two sturdy smiths were busy upon their anvils. Upand down went the long, shining blades, round and round they circled incurves of glimmering light, crossing, meeting, disengaging, with flashof sparks at every parry. Here and there bounded Sir Nigel, his headerect, his jaunty plume fluttering in the air, while his dark opponentsent in crashing blow upon blow, following fiercely up with cut and withthrust, but never once getting past the practised blade of the skilledswordsman. The crowd roared with delight as Sir Nigel would stoop hishead to avoid a blow, or by some slight movement of his body allow someterrible thrust to glance harmlessly past him. Suddenly, however, histime came. The Frenchman, whirling up his sword, showed for an instanta chink betwixt his shoulder piece and the rerebrace which guarded hisupper arm. In dashed Sir Nigel, and out again so swiftly that the eyecould not follow the quick play of his blade, but a trickle of bloodfrom the stranger's shoulder, and a rapidly widening red smudge upon hiswhite surcoat, showed where the thrust had taken effect. The wound was,however, but a slight one, and the Frenchman was about to renew hisonset, when, at a sign from the prince, Chandos threw down his baton,and the marshals of the lists struck up the weapons and brought thecontest to an end.
"It were time to check it," said the prince, smiling, "for Sir Nigel istoo good a man for me to lose, and, by the five holy wounds! if one ofthose cuts came home I should have fears for our champion. What thinkyou, Pedro?"
"I think, Edward, that the little man was very well able to take care ofhimself. For my part, I should wish to see so well matched a pair fighton while a drop of blood remained in their veins."
"We must have speech with him. Such a man must not go from my courtwithout rest or sup. Bring him hither, Chandos, and, certes, if the LordLoring hath resigned his claim upon this goblet, it is right and properthat this cavalier should carry it to France with him as a sign of theprowess that he has shown this day."
As he spoke, the knight-errant, who had remounted his warhorse, gallopedforward to the royal stand, with a silken kerchief bound round hiswounded arm. The setting sun cast a ruddy glare upon his burnishedarms, and sent his long black shadow streaming behind him up the levelclearing. Pulling up his steed, he slightly inclined his head, andsat in the stern and composed fashion with which he had borne himselfthroughout, heedless of the applauding shouts and the flutter ofkerchiefs from the long lines of brave men and of fair women who werelooking down upon him.
"Sir knight," said the prince, "we have all marvelled this day at thisgreat skill and valor with which God has been pleased to endow you.I would fain that you should tarry at our court, for a time at least,until your hurt is healed and your horses rested."
"My hurt is nothing, sire, nor are my horses weary," returned thestranger in a deep, stern voice.
"Will you not at least hie back to Bordeaux with us, that you may draina cup of muscadine and sup at our table?"
"I will neither drink your wine nor sit at your table," returned theother. "I bear no love for you or for your race, and there is noughtthat I wish at your hands until the day when I see the last sail whichbears you back to your island vanishing away against the western sky."
"These are bitter words, sir knight," said Prince Edward, with an angryfrown.
"And they come from a bitter heart," answere
d the unknown knight. "Howlong is it since there has been peace in my hapless country? Where arethe steadings, and orchards, and vineyards, which made France fair?Where are the cities which made her great? From Providence to Burgundywe are beset by every prowling hireling in Christendom, who rend andtear the country which you have left too weak to guard her own marches.Is it not a by-word that a man may ride all day in that unhappy landwithout seeing thatch upon roof or hearing the crow of cock? Does notone fair kingdom content you, that you should strive so for this otherone which has no love for you? Pardieu! a true Frenchman's words maywell be bitter, for bitter is his lot and bitter his thoughts as herides through his thrice unhappy country."
"Sir knight," said the prince, "you speak like a brave man, and ourcousin of France is happy in having a cavalier who is so fit to upholdhis cause either with tongue or with sword. But if you think such evilof us, how comes it that you have trusted yourselves to us withoutwarranty or safe-conduct?"
"Because I knew that you would be here, sire. Had the man who sits uponyour right been ruler of this land, I had indeed thought twice before Ilooked to him for aught that was knightly or generous." With a soldierlysalute, he wheeled round his horse, and, galloping down the lists,disappeared amid the dense crowd of footmen and of horsemen who werestreaming away from the scene of the tournament.
"The insolent villain!" cried Pedro, glaring furiously after him. "Ihave seen a man's tongue torn from his jaws for less. Would it not bewell even now, Edward, to send horsemen to hale him back? Bethink youthat it may be one of the royal house of France, or at least some knightwhose loss would be a heavy blow to his master. Sir William Felton, youare well mounted, gallop after the caitiff, I pray you."
"Do so, Sir William," said the prince, "and give him this purse of ahundred nobles as a sign of the respect which I bear for him; for,by St. George! he has served his master this day even as I would wishliegeman of mine to serve me." So saying, the prince turned his backupon the King of Spain, and springing upon his horse, rode slowlyhomewards to the Abbey of Saint Andrew's.