CHAPTER XXII
SIR RAYMOND
SIR JOHN HACKET, having formally announced his rank and that of hiscompanion, as well as the nature of their business, to the herald,removed his velvet cap, though he held his bascinet in his left hand,and at the same time removed his right-hand gauntlet. His squire didlikewise, and, breathing a fervent prayer for courage, he prepared tofollow his master into the royal presence.
The heavy damask curtains were drawn aside by two knights in waiting,and Raymond heard the sonorous voice of the herald repeating thetitle and style of the Constable and his squire. Another moment andRaymond stood before, but at a respectful distance from, the royaldais.
King Edward, who still wore the mailed coat in which he rode alongthe ranks earlier in the day, was attended by a number of earls andbarons, while by his side stood the young Prince of Wales, whoregarded the squire with an encouraging smile.
At the foot of the dais, a little distance to the left, stoodRaymond's uncle, Sir Maurice Revyngton, and his late father's formerenemy, Sir Reginald Scarsdale, who, though still weak and sufferingfrom his wounds, had, at Sir John's desire, appeared on the youngsquire's behalf.
"Ah, squire," quoth the King, fixing his dark, keen eyes upon theyoung man's face, "when we summoned thee to appear before us welooked for an explanation from thine own lips. But thou hast beenforestalled, for these two knights have already told us of thycondition. Now, what hast thou to say why thou shouldst not be drivenfrom the camp, being the son of an outlaw?"
"Nothing, sire; 'tis but the law."
"Thou couldst not have said much less," remarked the King, with agrim laugh. "How sayest thou, Sir Reginald Scarsdale. Hast thou adesire to press thy claims?"
"Nay, sire," replied the knight stoutly. "For his father, knowinglyand willingly, came to my aid in the thickest of the fight, and butfor his courage I should have been worsted."
"But thine oath of vengeance?"
"Sire, my desire for revenge departed the moment I heard from thissquire the name of his father, who, in truth, slew my only brother.Furthermore, 'tis my intention to repair, as soon as this war isover, to the shrine of St. Swithin of Winchester and to seekabsolution from mine oath."
"And thou hast no wish to harm this squire?"
"None, sire. On the contrary I wish him good----"
"Hold, Sir Knight," interrupted the King sharply. "We asked thee aplain question, to be answered by 'Yea' or 'Nay,' not bysuggestions."
"And thou, Sir John," continued Edward, addressing the Constable."Hast thou aught to add in favour of thy squire, beyond what thoudidst tell us but a short time back?"
"Nothing more, sire."
"'Tis well. And now, squire, we have carefully considered thy case,and we are favourably disposed towards thee." Then, turning to hisbarons, he added, with a sly reference to the growing power ofParliament, "We take it, fair lords, that we shall not offend ourfaithful commoners assembled at Westminster by assuming a right torevoke a decree of outlawry?"
A low murmur of assent was the reply.
"Then, Raymond Revyngton, we hereby pardon thee for an offence thatthou hast not committed--to wit, thou art no longer the son of anoutlaw. Sir William de Saye, our scrivener, will draw up the deed ofrevocation, and a copy for the Lord Bishop of Winchester. Artcontent?"
"Sire, I thank thee," replied Raymond, bending low before hissovereign.
"There is yet another matter. Of thy valour there has been noquestion. We have in mind the affair with the Count of Tancarville,and, going farther back, thy journey to Hennebon. But more especiallythy conduct in yesterday's fight, when our dear son, the Prince ofWales, was succoured by thine aid. We have a mind to inspect thycloven shield, which, we do perceive, thou hast brought in case ourmemory were in need of a reminder."
The squire, still kneeling, handed his buckler to an attendant, whoin turn presented it to the King.
"A lusty stroke," commented Edward, carefully examining the clean cutin the metal plate. "Our cousin of France hath men of sinew who inopen fight would be worthy and gallant opponents. Had their peasantsbeen as good bowmen as our gallant archers but few of us would behere. Squire," he added, "arise and hand over thy sword."
With martial alertness, Raymond drew the fragment of steel, and alook of surprise o'erspread the King's face.
"Thine equipment seems at fault," he remarked, smiling a littlegrimly. "Nay, we know 'twas done in a gallant fight. Advance, squire,and kneel before us."
This time Raymond did not refuse, for was he not a man free from thefatal taint that had threatened to mar everything in his career? Withrapid stride and uplifted head he advanced to the steps of the dais,his armour clanking as he moved. Presenting the hilt of his weapon tothe King, the squire sank on his knees.
As in a dream he felt the flat of the broken blade touch his rightshoulder, and the King's voice, in bold and decisive tones, saying,"Arise, Sir Raymond Revyngton!"
When at length Raymond found himself without the royal pavilion, hewas overwhelmed by the congratulations of his friends, including SirReginald Scarsdale.
"'Twould ill become a belted knight if I did not make amends for thepast," quoth the latter. "And to that end all I can do for thee I'lldo willingly."
"Then on thy knightly honour I hold thee to thy promise," repliedRaymond, catching at the opportunity with new-born courage, "for Ihave a matter of much weight of which I would speak."
"Then say on."
Sir John and Sir Maurice, having an inkling of what was coming,exchanged a knowing smile, and Raymond continued, though his voicefaltered a little.
"Sir Reginald, I love thy daughter Audrey, and would ask thy consentto win her hand in marriage."
For a while the old knight was too much astonished to reply, then,holding out his hand, he replied, "Then thou art the youth whorendered her service at that little affair with the French atHampton? Out on me for a thickhead for not linking thee with thatbold feat before. Certes! I will not be less good than my word. Takethe maid, if she be willing to wed thee!" Thus it was that thenewly-made knight found that success begets success, though in hisheart he had not expected to win Sir Reginald's consent so readily.Yet in the midst of his good fortune the one dark shadow was thehaunting thought of the loss of his father, and he grieved in hisheart that death had deprived his sire of life just as his son was onthe threshold of fame and honour.
Slowly the four knights, Sir Reginald being stiff with his hurts,proceeded towards the lines of the Hampshire companies, where SirJohn had invited the others to partake of refreshment. Already thenews of Raymond's advancement had preceded them, and the soldiers,with loud shouts, welcomed the new knight; for the master-bowman'sson was ever popular in the ranks of the men of Portsmouth andSouthampton.
"What are thy plans for the future," asked the Constable later in theday, "for as heir to Sir Maurice it is fitting that thou shouldstjoin him with the men of Devon."
"Nay, by the rood," answered Raymond warmly. "Thou hast ever been agood master to me, Sir John, and with thee I'll abide till the end ofthe war."
"I thank thee for thine appreciation, Raymond, for ever since thouwert my squire I have loved thee as a son. But now concerning themaid, the Lady Audrey?"
"Until Sir Reginald returns home I will not press my suit, but shouldhe do so I hope I may be permitted to withdraw from the camp for afew weeks to accompany him. Even then, how can I tell that the LadyAudrey will deal favourably with me?"
"I know that she loves thee, Raymond."
"How so, Sir John, seeing that I know not myself?"
"Raymond, I am afraid thou art more forward with the art of war thanwith the affairs of the heart. Would a maid have sent a messenger tome every week whilst thou wert in Hennebon to know if there weretidings of thee, if she did not love thee?"
"But how knew she that I was in Brittany?" was the amazed question.
"How? Didst thou not give me a letter to send to her?"
"Only in case I did not return."
/> "Didst thou? Didst thou? Certes now I remember! But now I think onthe matter, I must have forgotten that, for I did send it," repliedSir John, with pardonable deceit and well-feigned dismay. "But mindit not, Raymond, 'twas after all for the best, and, mark my words,she'll have thee--sure enough."
On the morrow the march was resumed, the King having decided to laysiege to Calais, and slowly the long lines of English troops, everyman heavily laden with booty, proceeded from the field of Crecy.
Edward had long looked with covetous eyes upon the port of Calais,for owing to the death of his Flemish ally, Jacques d'Artevelde, atthe hands of fellow-countrymen, and the consequent estrangement withthe Flemings, the King was in need of a continental port for thedistribution of English wool, and, once Calais were taken, the nestof pirates who made their headquarters there, to the great annoyanceof English ships, would be dispersed. Also an entry for his troopswould be secured within easy distance from the English coast. So,with these strong incentives, Edward hastened to reduce the town.
Within a week of Crecy, the English lay in a triple ring around theland side of the town, while a strong fleet cruised constantlybetween Grisnez and Gravelines to prevent any succour being sent bysea, and, without attempting to carry the defences by assault, Edwardrelied upon famine to bring about the downfall of Calais.
Throughout the long winter of 1346-47 the blockade was maintained,and the works of the besiegers resembled the outer walls of a cityrather than temporary trenches, so that the English were in aposition both to keep the citizens of Calais within their walls andto repel any attempt on the part of the French to raise the siege.
Early in the spring dysentery broke out in the ranks of the English,and amongst those who were attacked was Sir Raymond. In spite of therough yet devoted attention of his men, the skill of the harassedphysicians, and the solicitude of his friends, the young knight was,for a time, in great danger, and even when the crisis was passed hisprogress towards recovery was slow and tedious.
One day as he lay alone in his tent, weak and worn, Raymond heard thewell-known sound of troops marching hurriedly out of camp, and theblare of trumpets denoted that something untoward was afoot.
Feebly he called the names of the men who usually waited on him, butin vain; there was no response to his summons, and at length thetramp of feet died away, leaving the camp as silent as the grave,save for the flapping of the canvas as the keen wind whistled aroundthe tents.