Sir Nigel

  XXIV. HOW NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER

  "My sweet ladye," wrote Nigel in a script which it would take the eyesof love to read, "there hath been a most noble meeting in the fourthsennight of Lent betwixt some of our own people and sundry most worthypersons of this country, which ended, by the grace of our Lady, in sofine a joust that no man living can call to mind so fair an occasion.Much honor was gained by the Sieurde Beaumanoir and also by an Almainnamed Croquart, with whom I hope to have some speech when I am haleagain, for he is a most excellent person and very ready to advancehimself or to relieve another from a vow. For myself I had hoped, withGodde's help, to venture that third small deed which might set me freeto haste to your sweet side, but things have gone awry with me, and Iearly met with such scathe and was of so small comfort to my friendsthat my heart is heavy within me, and in sooth I feel that I have losthonor rather than gained it. Here I have lain since the Feast of theVirgin, and here I am like still to be, for I can move no limb, saveonly my hand; but grieve not, sweet lady, for Saint Catharine hath beenour friend since in so short a time I had two such ventures as the RedFerret and the intaking of the Reaver's fortalice. It needs but one moredeed, and sickerly when I am hale once more it will not be long ere Iseek it out. Till then, if my eyes may not rest upon you, my heart atleast is ever at thy feet."

  So he wrote from his sick-room in the Castle of Ploermel late in thesummer, but yet another summer had come before his crushed head hadmended and his wasted limbs had gained their strength once more. Withdespair he heard of the breaking of the truce, and of the fight atMauron in which Sir Robert Knolles and Sir Walter Bentley crushed therising power of Brittany--a fight in which many of the thirty championsof Josselin met their end. Then, when with renewed strength and highhopes in his heart he went forth to search for the famous Croquart whoproclaimed himself ever ready night or day to meet any man with anyweapon, it was only to find that in trying the paces of his new horsethe German had been cast into a ditch and had broken his neck. In thesame ditch perished Nigel's last chance of soon accomplishing that deedwhich should free him from his vow.

  There was truce once more over all Christendom, and mankind was satedwith war, so that only in far-off Prussia, where the Teutonic knightswaged ceaseless battle with the Lithuanian heathen, could he hope tofind his heart's desire. But money and high knightly fame were neededere a man could go upon the northern crusade, and ten years were yetto pass ere Nigel should look from the battlements of Marienberg onthe waters of the Frische Haff, or should endure the torture of the hotplate when bound to the Holy Woden stone of Memel. Meanwhile, he chafedhis burning soul out through the long seasons of garrison life inBrittany, broken only by one visit to the chateau of the father ofRaoul, when he carried to the Lord of Grosbois the news of how his sonhad fallen like a gallant gentleman under the gateway of La Brohiniere.

  And then, then at last, when all hope was well-nigh dead in his heart,there came one glorious July morning which brought a horseman bearinga letter to the Castle of Vannes, of which Nigel now was seneschal. Itcontained but few words, short and clear as the call of a war-trumpet.It was Chandos who wrote. He needed his Squire at his side, for hispennon was in the breeze once more. He was at Bordeaux. The Prince wasstarting at once for Bergerac, whence he would make a great raid intoFrance. It would not end without a battle. They had sent word of theircoming, and the good French King had promised to be at great pains toreceive them. Let Nigel hasten at once. If the army had left, then lethim follow after with all speed. Chandos had three other squires, butwould very gladly see his fourth once again, for he had heard much ofhim since he parted, and nothing which he might not have expected tohear of his father's son. Such was the letter which made the summer sunshine brighter and the blue sky seem of a still fairer blue upon thathappy morning in Vannes.

  It is a weary way from Vannes to Bordeaux. Coastwise ships are hard tofind, and winds blow north when all brave hearts would fain be speedingsouth. A full month has passed from the day when Nigel received hisletter before he stood upon the quay-side of the Garonne amid thestacked barrels of Gascon wine and helped to lead Pommers down thegang-planks. Not Aylward himself had a worse opinion of the sea thanthe great yellow horse, and he whinnied with joy as he thrust his muzzleinto his master's outstretched hand, and stamped his ringing hoofs uponthe good firm cobblestones. Beside him, slapping his tawny shoulder inencouragement, was the lean spare form of Back Simon who had remainedever under Nigel's pennon.

  But Aylward, where was he? Alas! two years before he and the whole ofKnolles' company of archers had been drafted away on the King's serviceto Guienne, and since he could not write the Squire knew not whether hewas alive or dead. Simon, indeed, had thrice heard of him from wanderingarchers, each time that he was alive and well and newly married, but asthe wife in one case was a fair maid, and in another a dark, while inthe third she was a French widow, it was hard to know the truth.

  Already the army had been gone a month, but news of it came daily tothe town, and such news as all men could read, for through the landwardgates there rolled one constant stream of wagons, pouring down theLibourne Road, and bearing the booty of Southern France. The town wasfull of foot-soldiers, for none but mounted men had been taken by thePrince. With sad faces and longing eyes they watched the passing of thetrain of plunder-laden carts, piled high with rich furniture, silks,velvets, tapestries, carvings, and precious metals, which had been thepride of many a lordly home in fair Auvergne or the wealthy Bourbonnais.

  Let no man think that in these wars England alone was face to face withFrance alone. There is glory and to spare without trifling with thetruth. Two Provinces in France, both rich and warlike, had becomeEnglish through a royal marriage, and these, Guienne and Gascony,furnished many of the most valiant soldiers under the island flag.So poor a country as England could not afford to keep a great forceoverseas, and so must needs have lost the war with France through wantof power to uphold the struggle. The feudal system enabled an army to bedrawn rapidly together with small expense, but at the end of a few weeksit dispersed again as swiftly, and only by a well-filled money-chestcould it be held together. There was no such chest in England, and theKing was forever at his wits' end how to keep his men in the field.

  But Guienne and Gascony were full of knights and squires who were alwaysready to assemble from their isolated castles for a raid into France,and these with the addition of those English cavaliers who fought forhonor, and a few thousand of the formidable archers, hired for fourpencea day, made an army with which a short campaign could be carried on.Such were the materials of the Prince's force, some eight thousandstrong, who were now riding in a great circle through Southern France,leaving a broad wale of blackened and ruined country behind them.

  But France, even with her southwestern corner in English hands, wasstill a very warlike power, far richer and more populous than her rival.Single Provinces were so great that they were stronger than many akingdom. Normandy in the north, Burgundy in the east, Brittany in thewest and Languedoc in the south were each capable of fitting out a greatarmy of their own. Therefore the brave and spirited John, watching fromParis this insolent raid into his dominions, sent messengers in hothaste to all these great feudatories as well as to Lorraine, Picardy,Auvergne, Hainault, Vermandois, Champagne, and to the German mercenariesover his eastern border, bidding all of them to ride hard, with bloodyspur, day and night, until they should gather to a head at Chartres.

  There a great army had assembled early in September, whilst the Prince,all unconscious of its presence sacked towns and besieged castles fromBourges to Issodun, passing Romorautin, and so onward to Vierzon and toTours. From week to week there were merry skirmishes at barriers, briskassaults of fortresses in which much honor was won, knightly meetingswith detached parties of Frenchmen and occasional spear-runnings wherenoble champions deigned to venture their persons. Houses, too, wereto be plundered, while wine and women were in plenty. Never had eitherknights or archers had so pleasant and profit
able an excursion, so thatit was with high heart and much hope of pleasant days at Bordeaux withtheir pockets full of money that the army turned south from the Loireand began to retrace its steps to the seaboard city.

  But now its pleasant and martial promenade changed suddenly to veryserious work of war. As the Prince moved south he found that allsupplies had been cleared away from in front of him and that there wasneither fodder for the horses nor food for the men. Two hundred wagonsladen with spoil rolled at the head of the army, but the starvingsoldiers would soon have gladly changed it all for as many loads ofbread and of meat. The light troops of the French had preceded then andburned or destroyed everything that could be of use. Now also for thefirst time the Prince and his men became aware that a great army wasmoving upon the eastern side of them, streaming southward in the hope ofcutting off their retreat to the sea. The sky glowed with their firesat night, and the autumn sun twinkled and gleamed from one end of thehorizon to the other upon the steel caps and flashing weapons of amighty host.

  Anxious to secure his plunder, and conscious that the levies of Francewere far superior in number to his own force, the Prince redoubled hisattempts to escape; but his horses were exhausted and his starving menwere hardly to be kept in order. A few more days would unfit themfor battle. Therefore, when he found near the village of Maupertuis aposition in which a small force might have a chance to hold its own, hegave up the attempt to outmarch his pursuers, and he turned at bay, likea hunted boar, all tusks and eyes of flame.

  Whilst these high events had been in progress, Nigel with Black Simonand four other men-at-arms from Bordeaux, was hastening northward tojoin the army. As far as Bergerac they were in a friendly land, butthence onward they rode over a blackened landscape with many a rooflesshouse, its two bare gable-ends sticking upward--a "Knolles' miter" asit was afterward called when Sir Robert worked his stern will upon thecountry. For three days they rode northward, seeing many small partiesof French in all directions, but too eager to reach the army to easetheir march in the search of adventures.

  Then at last after passing Lusignan they began to come in touch withEnglish foragers, mounted bowmen for the most part, who were endeavoringto collect supplies either for the army or for themselves. From themNigel learned that the Prince, with Chandos ever at his side, washastening south and might be met within a short day's march. As he stilladvanced these English stragglers became more and more numerous, untilat last he overtook a considerable column of archers moving in the samedirection as his own party. These were men whose horses had failed themand who had therefore been left behind on the advance, but were nowhastening to be in time for the impending battle. A crowd of peasantgirls accompanied them upon their march, and a whole train of ladenmules were led beside them.

  Nigel and his little troop of men-at-arms were riding past the archerswhen Black Simon with a sudden exclamation touched his leader upon thearm.

  "See yonder, fair sir," he cried, with gleaming eyes, "there where thewastrel walks with the great fardel upon his back! Who is he who marchesbehind him?"

  Nigel looked, and was aware of a stunted peasant who bore upon hisrounded back an enormous bundle very much larger than himself. Behindhim walked a burly broad-shouldered archer, whose stained jerkin andbattered headpiece gave token of long and hard service. His bow wasslung over his shoulder, and his arms were round the waists of two buxomFrenchwomen, who tripped along beside him with much laughter and manysaucy answers flung back over their shoulders to a score of admirersbehind them.

  "Aylward!" cried Nigel, spurring forward.

  The archer turned his bronzed face, stared for an instant with wildeyes, and then, dropping his two ladies, who were instantly carried offby his comrades, he rushed to seize the hand which his young master helddown to him. "Now, by my hilt, Squire Nigel, this is the fairest sightof my lifetime!" he cried. "And you, old leather-face! Nay, Simon, Iwould put my arms round your dried herring of a body, if I could butreach you. Here is Pommers too, and I read in his eye that he knows mewell and is as ready to put his teeth into me as when he stood in myfather's stall."

  It was like a whiff of the heather-perfumed breezes of Hankley to seehis homely face once more. Nigel laughed with sheer joy as he looked athim.

  "It was an ill day when the King's service called you from my side,"said he, "and by Saint Paul! I am right glad to set eyes upon you oncemore! I see well that you are in no wise altered, but the same Aylwardthat I have ever known. But who is this varlet with the great bundle whowaits upon your movements?"

  "It is no less than a feather-bed, fair sir, which he bears upon hisback, for I would fain bring it to Tilford, and yet it is overlarge forme when I take my place with my fellows in the ranks. But indeed thiswar has been a most excellent one, and I have already sent half awagonload of my gear back to Bordeaux to await my homecoming. Yet I havemy fears when I think of all the rascal foot-archers who are waitingthere, for some folk have no grace or honesty in their souls, and cannotkeep their hands from that which belongs to another. But if I may throwmy leg over yonder spare horse I will come on with you, fair sir, forindeed it would be joy to my heart to know that I was riding under yourbanner once again."

  So Aylward, having given instructions to the bearer of his feather-bed,rode away in spite of shrill protests from his French companions, whospeedily consoled themselves with those of his comrades who seemed tohave most to give. Nigel's party was soon clear of the column of archersand riding hard in the direction of the Prince's army. They passed by anarrow and winding track, through the great wood of Nouaille, and foundbefore them a marshy valley down which ran a sluggish stream. Along itsfarther bank hundreds of horses were being watered, and beyond wasa dense block of wagons. Through these the comrades passed, and thentopped a small mound from which the whole strange scene lay spreadbefore them.

  Down the valley the slow stream meandered with marshy meadows oneither side. A mile or two lower a huge drove of horses were to be seenassembled upon the bank. They were the steeds of the French cavalry,and the blue haze of a hundred fires showed where King John's men werecamping. In front of the mound upon which they stood the English linewas drawn, but there were few fires, for indeed, save their horses,there was little for them to cook. Their right rested upon the river,and their array stretched across a mile of ground until the left was intouch with a tangled forest which guarded it from flank attack. In frontwas a long thick hedge and much broken ground, with a single deeplyrutted country road cutting through it in the middle. Under the hedgeand along the whole front of the position lay swarms of archers upon thegrass, the greater number slumbering peacefully with sprawling limbsin the warm rays of the September sun. Behind were the quarters of thevarious knights, and from end to end flew the banners and pennons markedwith the devices of the chivalry of England and Guienne.

  With a glow in his heart Nigel saw those badges of famous captains andleaders and knew that now at last he also might show his coat-armor insuch noble company. There was the flag of Jean Grailly, the Captal deBuch, five silver shells on a black cross, which marked the presence ofthe most famous soldier of Gascony, while beside it waved the red lionof the noble Knight of Hainault, Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt. These twocoats Nigel knew, as did every warrior in Europe, but a dense grove ofpennoned lances surrounded them, bearing charges which were strangeto him, from which he understood that these belonged to the Guiennedivision of the army. Farther down the line the famous English ensignsfloated on the wind, the scarlet and gold of Warwick, the silver starof Oxford, the golden cross of Suffolk, the blue and gold of Willoughby,and the gold-fretted scarlet of Audley. In the very center of them allwas one which caused all others to pass from his mind, for close to theroyal banner of England, crossed with the label of the Prince, therewaved the war-worn flag with the red wedge upon the golden field whichmarked the quarters of the noble Chandos.

  At the sight Nigel set spurs to his horse, and a few minutes later hadreached the spot. Chandos, gaunt from hunger and want of sleep,
butwith the old fire lurking in his eye, was standing by the Prince's tent,gazing down at what could be seen of the French array, and heavy withthought. Nigel sprang from his horse and was within touch of his masterwhen the silken hanging of the royal tent was torn violently aside andEdward rushed out.

  He was without his armor and clad in a sober suit of black, but the highdignity of his bearing and the imperious anger which flushed hisface proclaimed the leader and the Prince. At his heels was a littlewhite-haired ecclesiastic in a flowing gown of scarlet sendal,expostulating and arguing in a torrent of words.

  "Not another word, my Lord Cardinal," cried the angry prince. "I havelistened to you overlong, and by God's dignity! that which you say isneither good nor fair in my ears. Hark you, John, I would have yourcounsel. What think you is the message which my Lord Cardinal ofPerigord has carried from the King of France? He says that of hisclemency he will let my army pass back to Bordeaux if we will restoreto him all that we have taken, remit all ransoms, and surrender my ownperson with that of a hundred nobles of England and Guienne to be heldas prisoners. What think you, John?"

  Chandos smiled. "Things are not done in that fashion," said he.

  "But my Lord Chandos," cried the Cardinal, "I have made it clear to thePrince that indeed it is a scandal to all Christendom and a cause ofmocking to the heathen, that two great sons of the Church should turntheir swords thus upon each other."

  "Then bid the King of France keep clear of us," said the Prince.

  "Fair son, you are aware that you are in the heart of his country andthat it standeth not aright that he should suffer you to go forth as youcame. You have but a small army, three thousand bowmen and five thousandmen-at-arms at the most, who seem in evil case for want of food andrest. The King has thirty thousand men at his back, of which twentythousand are expert men-at-arms. It is fitting therefore that you makesuch terms as you may, lest worse befall."

  "Give my greetings to the King of France and tell him that England willnever pay ransom for me. But it seems to me, my Lord Cardinal, that youhave our numbers and condition very ready upon your tongue, and Iwould fain know how the eye of a Churchman can read a line of battleso easily. I have seen that these knights of your household have walkedfreely to and fro within our camp, and I much fear that when I welcomedyou as envoys I have in truth given my protection to spies. How say you,my Lord Cardinal?"

  "Fair Prince, I know not how you can find it in your heart or conscienceto say such evil words."

  "There is this red-bearded nephew of thine, Robert de Duras. See wherehe stands yonder, counting and prying. Hark hither, young sir! I havebeen saying to your uncle the Cardinal that it is in my mind that youand your comrades have carried news of our dispositions to the FrenchKing. How say you?"

  The knight turned pale and sank his eyes. "My lord," he murmured, "itmay be that I have answered some questions."

  "And how will such answers accord with your honor, seeing that we havetrusted you since you came in the train of the Cardinal?"

  "My lord, it is true that I am in the train of the Cardinal, and yetI am liege man of King John and a knight of France, so I pray you toassuage your wrath against me."

  The Prince ground his teeth and his piercing eyes blazed upon the youth."By my father's soul! I can scarce forbear to strike you to the earth!But this I promise you, that if you show that sign of the Red Griffinin the field and if you be taken alive in to-morrow's battle, your headshall most assuredly be shorn from your shoulders."

  "Fair son, indeed you speak wildly," cried the Cardinal. "I pledge youmy word that neither my nephew Robert nor any of my train will take partin the battle. And now I leave you, sire, and may God assoil your soul,for indeed in all this world no men stand in greater peril than you andthose who are around you, and I rede you that you spend the nightin such ghostly exercises as may best prepare you for that which maybefall." So saying the Cardinal bowed, and with his household walkingbehind him set off for the spot where they had left their' horses,whence they rode to the neighboring Abbey.

  The angry Prince turned upon his heel and entered his tent once more,whilst Chandos, glancing round, held out a warm welcoming hand to Nigel.

  "I have heard much of your noble deeds," said he. "Already your namerises as a squire errant. I stood no higher, nor so high, at your age."

  Nigel flushed with pride and pleasure. "Indeed, my dear lord, it is verylittle that I have done. But now that I am back at your side I hope thatin truth I shall learn to bear myself in worthy fashion, for where elseshould I win honor if it be not under your banner."

  "Truly, Nigel, you have come at a very good time for advancement. Icannot see how we can leave this spot without a great battle which willlive in men's minds forever. In all our fights in France I cannot callto mind any in which they have been so strong or we so weak as now, sothat there will be the more honor to be gained. I would that we hadtwo thousand more archers. But I doubt not that we shall give them muchtrouble ere they drive us out from amidst these hedges. Have you seenthe French?"

  "Nay, fair sir, I have but this moment arrived."

  "I was about to ride forth myself to coast their army and observe theircountenance, so come with me ere the night fall, and we shall see whatwe can of their order and dispositions."

  There was a truce betwixt the two forces for the day, on account of theill-advised and useless interposition of the Cardinal of Perigord, Hencewhen Chandos and Nigel had pushed their horses through the long hedgewhich fronted the position they found that many small parties of theknights of either army were riding up and down on the plain outside. Thegreater number of these groups were French, since it was very necessaryfor them to know as much as possible of the English defenses; and manyof their scouts had ridden up to within a hundred yards of the hedge,where they were sternly ordered back by the pickets of archers on guard.

  Through these scattered knots of horsemen Chandos rode, and as many ofthem were old antagonists it was "Ha, John!" on the one side, and "Ha,Raoul!" "Ha, Nicholas!" "Ha, Guichard!" upon the other, as they brushedpast them. Only one cavalier greeted them amiss, a large, red-faced man,the Lord Clermont, who by some strange chance bore upon his surcoat ablue virgin standing amid golden sunbeams, which was the very devicewhich Chandos had donned for the day. The fiery Frenchman dashed acrosstheir path and drew his steed back on to its haunches.

  "How long is it, my Lord Chandos," said he hotly, "since you have takenit upon yourself to wear my arms?"

  Chandos smiled. "It is surely you who have mine," said he, "since thissurcoat was worked for thee by the good nuns of Windsor a long yearago."

  "If it were not for the truce," said Clermont, "I would soon show youthat you have no right to wear it."

  "Look for it then in the battle to-morrow, and I also will look foryours," Chandos answered. "There we can very honorably settle thematter."

  But the Frenchman was choleric and hard to appease. "You English caninvent nothing," said he, "and you take for your own whatever you seehandsome belonging to others." So, grumbling and fuming, he rode uponhis way, while Chandos, laughing gayly, spurred onward across the plain.

  The immediate front of the English line was shrouded with scatteredtrees and bushes which hid the enemy; but when they had cleared these afair view of the great French army lay before them. In the center ofthe huge camp was a long and high pavilion of red silk, with the silverlilies of the King at one end of it, and the golden oriflamme, thebattle-flag of old France, at the other. Like the reeds of a pool fromside to side of the broad array, and dwindling away as far as theireyes could see, were the banners and pennons of high barons and famousknights, but above them all flew the ducal standards which showed thatthe feudal muster of all the warlike provinces of France was in thefield before them.

  With a kindling eye Chandos looked across at the proud ensigns ofNormandy, or Burgundy, of Auvergne, of Champagne, of Vermandois, andof Berry, flaunting and gleaming in the rays of the sinking sun. Ridingslowly down the line he marked wi
th attentive gaze the camp of thecrossbowmen, the muster of the German mercenaries, the numbers of thefoot-soldiers, the arms of every proud vassal or vavasor which mightgive some guide as to the power of each division. From wing to wing andround the flanks he went, keeping ever within crossbow-shot of thearmy, and then at last having noted all things in his mind he turned hishorse's head and rode slowly back, heavy with thought, to the Englishlines.