XXV. HOW THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL AT MAUPERTUIS
The morning of Sunday, the nineteenth of September, in the year of ourLord 1356, was cold and fine. A haze which rose from the marshy valleyof Muisson covered both camps and set the starving Englishmen shivering,but it cleared slowly away as the sun rose. In the red silken pavilionof the French King--the same which had been viewed by Nigel and Chandosthe evening before--a solemn mass was held by the Bishop of Chalons, whoprayed for those who were about to die, with little thought in his mindthat his own last hour was so near at hand. Then, when communion hadbeen taken by the King and his four young sons the altar was clearedaway, and a great red-covered table placed lengthwise down the tent,round which John might assemble his council and determine how best heshould proceed. With the silken roof, rich tapestries of Arras roundthe walls and Eastern rugs beneath the feet, his palace could furnish nofairer chamber.
King John, who sat upon the canopied dais at the upper end, was now inthe sixth year of his reign and the thirty-sixth of his life. He was ashort burly man, ruddy-faced and deep-chested, with dark kindly eyes anda most noble bearing. It did not need the blue cloak sewed with silverlilies to mark him as the King. Though his reign had been short, hisfame was already widespread over all Europe as a kindly gentleman and afearless soldier--a fit leader for a chivalrous nation. His elder son,the Duke of Normandy, still hardly more than a boy, stood beside him,his hand upon the King's shoulder, and John half turned from time totime to fondle him. On the right, at the same high dais, was the King'syounger brother, the Duke of Orleans, a pale heavy-featured man, with alanguid manner and intolerant eyes. On the left was the Duke of Bourbon,sad-faced and absorbed, with that gentle melancholy in his eyes andbearing which comes often with the premonition of death. All these werein their armor, save only for their helmets, which lay upon the boardbefore them.
Below, grouped around the long red table, was an assembly of the mostfamous warriors in Europe. At the end nearest the King was the veteransoldier the Duke of Athens, son of a banished father, and now HighConstable of France. On one side of him sat the red-faced and cholericLord Clermont, with the same blue Virgin in golden rays upon his surcoatwhich had caused his quarrel with Chandos the night before. On the otherwas a noble-featured grizzly-haired soldier, Arnold d'Andreghen, whoshared with Clermont the honor of being Marshal of France. Next to themsat Lord James of Bourbon, a brave warrior who was afterwards slain bythe White Company at Brignais, and beside him a little group of Germannoblemen, including the Earl of Salzburg and the Earl of Nassau, whohad ridden over the frontier with their formidable mercenaries at thebidding of the French King. The ridged armor and the hanging nasals oftheir bassinets were enough in themselves to tell every soldier thatthey were from beyond the Rhine. At the other side of the table were aline of proud and warlike Lords, Fiennes, Chatillon, Nesle, de Landas,de Beaujeu, with the fierce knight errant de Chargny, he who had plannedthe surprise of Calais, and Eustace de Ribeaumont, who had upon the sameoccasion won the prize of valor from the hands of Edward of England.Such were the chiefs to whom the King now turned for assistance andadvice.
"You have already heard, my friends," said he, "that the Prince of Waleshas made no answer to the proposal which we sent by the Lord Cardinal ofPerigord. Certes this is as it should be, and though I have obeyed thecall of Holy Church I had no fears that so excellent a Prince as Edwardof England would refuse to meet us in battle. I am now of opinion thatwe should fall upon them at once, lest perchance the Cardinal's crossshould again come betwixt our swords and our enemies."
A buzz of joyful assent arose from the meeting, and even from theattendant men-at-arms who guarded the door. When it had died away theDuke of Orleans rose in his place beside the King.
"Sire," said he, "you speak as we would have you do, and I for one am ofopinion that the Cardinal of Perigord has been an ill friend of France,for why should we bargain for a part when we have but to hold out ourhand in order to grasp the whole? What need is there for words? Let usspring to horse forthwith and ride over this handful of marauders whohave dared to lay waste your fair dominions. If one of them go hencesave as our prisoner we are the more to blame."
"By Saint Denis, brother!" said the King, smiling, "if words could slayyou would have had them all upon their backs ere ever we left Chartres.You are new to war, but when you have had experience of a stricken fieldor two you would know that things must be done with forethought and inorder or they may go awry. In our father's time we sprang to horse andspurred upon these English at Crecy and elsewhere as you advise, butwe had little profit from it, and now we are grown wiser. How say you,Sieur de Ribeaumont? You have coasted their lines and observed theircountenance. Would you ride down upon them, as my brother has advised,or how would you order the matter?"
De Ribeaumont, a tall dark-eyed handsome man, paused ere he answered."Sire," he said at last, "I have indeed ridden along their front anddown their flanks, in company with Lord Landas and Lord de Beaujeu, whoare here at your council to witness to what I say. Indeed, sire, it isin my mind that though the English are few in number yet they arein such a position amongst these hedges and vines that you would bewell-advised if you were to leave them alone, for they have no food andmust retreat, so that you will be able to follow them and to fight themto better advantage."
A murmur of disapproval rose from the company, and the Lord Clermont,Marshal of the army, sprang to his feet, his face red with anger.
"Eustace; Eustace," said he, "I bear in mind the days when you were ofgreat heart and high enterprise, but since King Edward gave you yonderchaplet of pearls you have ever been backward against the English!"
"My Lord Clermont," said de Ribeaumont sternly, "it is not for me tobrawl at the King's council and in the face of the enemy, but we willgo further into this matter at some other time. Meanwhile, the King hasasked me for my advice and I have given it as best I might."
"It had been better for your honor, Sir Eustace, had you held yourpeace," said the Duke of Orleans. "Shall we let them slip from ourfingers when we have them here and are fourfold their number? I know notwhere we should dwell afterwards, for I am very sure that we should beashamed to ride back to Paris, or to look our ladies in the eyes again."
"Indeed, Eustace, you have done well to say what is in your mind,"said the King; "but I have already said that we shall join battle thismorning, so that there is no room here for further talk. But I wouldfain have heard from you how it would be wisest and best that we attackthem?"
"I will advise you, sire, to the best of my power. Upon their right is ariver with marshes around it, and upon their left a great wood, so thatwe can advance only upon the center. Along their front is a thick hedge,and behind it I saw the green jerkins of their archers, as thick as thesedges by the river. It is broken by one road where only four horsemencould ride abreast, which leads through the position. It is clear thenthat if we are to drive them back we must cross the great hedge, andI am very sure that the horses will not face it with such a storm ofarrows beating from behind it. Therefore, it is my council that we fightupon foot, as the English did at Crecy, for indeed we may find that ourhorses will be more hindrance than help to us this day."
"The same thought was in my own mind, sire," said Arnold d'Andreghen theveteran Marshal. "At Crecy the bravest had to turn their backs, for whatcan a man do with a horse which is mad with pain and fear? If we advanceupon foot we are our own masters, and if we stop the shame is ours."
"The counsel is good," said the Duke of Athens, turning his shrewdwizened face to the King; "but one thing only I would add to it. Thestrength of these people lies in their archers, and if we could throwthem into disorder, were it only for a short time, we should win thehedge; else they will shoot so strongly that we must lose many menbefore we reach it, for indeed we have learned that no armor will keepout their shafts when they are close."
"Your words, fair sir, are both good and wise," said the King, "but Ipray you to tell us how you would throw t
hese archers into disorder?"
"I would choose three hundred horsemen, sire, the best and most forwardin the army. With these I would ride up the narrow road, and so turnto right and left, falling upon the archers behind the hedge. It may bethat the three hundred would suffer sorely, but what are they among sogreat a host, if a road may be cleared for their companions?"
"I would say a word to that, sire," cried the German Count of Nassau, "Ihave come here with my comrades to venture our persons in your quarrel;but we claim the right to fight in our own fashion, and we would countit dishonor to dismount from our steeds out of fear of the arrows of theEnglish. Therefore, with your permission, we will ride to the front,as the Duke of Athens has advised, and so clear a path for the rest ofyou."
"This may not be!" cried the Lord Clermont angrily. "It would be strangeindeed if Frenchmen could not be found to clear a path for the army ofthe King of France. One would think to hear you talk, my Lord Count,that your hardihood was greater than our own, but by our Lady ofRocamadour you will learn before nightfall that it is not so. It is forme, who am a Marshal of France; to lead these three hundred, since it isan honorable venture."
"And I claim the same right for the same reason," said Arnold ofAndreghen.
The German Count struck the table with his mailed fist. "Do what youlike!" said he. "But this only I can promise you, that neither I norany of my German riders will descend from our horses so long as they areable to carry us, for in our country it is only people of no consequencewho fight upon their feet."
The Lord Clermont was leaning angrily forward with some hot reply whenKing John intervened. "Enough, enough!" he said. "It is for you to giveyour opinions, and for me to tell you what you will do. Lord Clermont,and you, Arnold, you will choose three hundred of the bravest cavaliersin the army and you will endeavor to break these archers. As to you andyour Germans, my Lord Nassau, you will remain upon horseback, since youdesire it, and you will follow the Marshals and support them as bestyou may. The rest of the army will advance upon foot, in three otherdivisions as arranged: yours, Charles," and he patted his son, the Dukeof Normandy, affectionately upon the hand; "yours, Philip," he glancedat the Duke of Orleans; "and the main battle which is my own. To you,Geoffrey de Chargny, I intrust the oriflamme this day. But who is thisknight and what does he desire?"
A young knight, ruddy-bearded and tall, a red griffin upon his surcoat,had appeared in the opening of the tent. His flushed face and disheveleddress showed that he had come in haste. "Sire," said he, "I am Robertde Duras, of the household of the Cardinal de Perigord. I have told youyesterday all that I have learned of the English camp. This morning Iwas again admitted to it, and I have seen their wagons moving to therear. Sire, they are in flight for Bordeaux."
"'Fore God, I knew it!" cried the Duke of Orleans in a voice of fury."Whilst we have been talking they have slipped through our fingers. DidI not warn you?"
"Be silent, Philip!" said the King angrily. "But you, sir, have you seenthis with your own eyes?"
"With my own eyes, sire, and I have ridden straight from their camp."
King John looked at him with a stern gaze. "I know not how it accordswith your honor to carry such tidings in such a fashion," said he; "butwe cannot choose but take advantage of it. Fear not, brother Philip,it is in my mind that you will see all that you would wish of theEnglishmen before nightfall. Should we fall upon them whilst they crossthe ford it will be to our advantage. Now, fair sirs, I pray you tohasten to your posts and to carry out all that we have agreed. Advancethe oriflamme, Geoffrey, and do you marshal the divisions, Arnold. Somay God and Saint Denis have us in their holy keeping this day!"
The Prince of Wales stood upon that little knoll where Nigel had haltedthe day before. Beside him were Chandos, and a tall sun-burned warriorof middle age, the Gascon Captal de Buch. The three men were allattentively watching the distant French lines, while behind them acolumn of wagons wound down to the ford of the Muisson.
Close in the rear four knights in full armor with open visors sat theirhorses and conversed in undertones with each other. A glance at theirshields would have given their names to any soldier, for they were allmen of fame who had seen much warfare. At present they were awaitingtheir orders, for each of them commanded the whole or part of a divisionof the army. The youth upon the left, dark, slim and earnest, wasWilliam Montacute, Earl of Salisbury, only twenty-eight years of age andyet a veteran of Crecy. How high he stood in reputation is shown by thefact that the command of the rear, the post of honor in a retreatingarmy, had been given to him by the Prince. He was talking to a grizzledharsh-faced man, somewhat over middle age, with lion features and fiercelight-blue eyes which gleamed as they watched the distant enemy. It wasthe famous Robert de Ufford, Earl of Suffolk, who had fought without abreak from Cadsand onward through the whole Continental War. The othertall silent soldier, with the silver star gleaming upon his surcoat,was John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, and he listened to the talk of ThomasBeauchamp, a burly, jovial, ruddy nobleman and a tried soldier, wholeaned forward and tapped his mailed hand upon the other's steel-cladthigh. They were old battle-companions, of the same age and in the veryprime of life, with equal fame and equal experience of the wars. Suchwas the group of famous English soldiers who sat their horses behind thePrince and waited for their orders.
"I would that you had laid hands upon him," said the Prince angrily,continuing his conversation with Chandos, "and yet, perchance, it waswiser to play this trick and make them think that we were retreating."
"He has certainly carried the tidings," said Chandos, with a smile. "Nosooner had the wagons started than I saw him gallop down the edge of thewood."
"It was well thought of, John," the Prince remarked, "for it wouldindeed be great comfort if we could turn their own spy against them.Unless they advance upon us, I know not how we can hold out anotherday, for there is not a loaf left in the army; and yet if we leave thisposition where shall we hope to find such another?"
"They will stoop, fair sir, they will stoop to our lure. Even now Robertde Duras will be telling them that the wagons are on the move, and theywill hasten to overtake us lest we pass the ford. But who is this, whorides so fast? Here perchance may be tidings."
A horseman had spurred up to the knoll. He sprang from the saddle, andsank on one knee before the Prince.
"How now, my Lord Audley," said Edward. "What would you have?"
"Sir," said the knight, still kneeling with bowed head before hisleader, "I have a boon to ask of you."
"Nay, James, rise! Let me hear what I can do."
The famous knight errant, pattern of chivalry for all time; rose andturned his swarthy face and dark earnest eyes upon his master. "Sir,"said he, "I have ever served most loyally my lord your father andyourself, and shall continue so to do so long as I have life. Dear sir,I must now acquaint you that formerly I made a vow if ever I should bein any battle under your command that I would be foremost or die in theattempt. I beg therefore that you will graciously permit me to honorablyquit my place among the others, that I may post myself in such wise asto accomplish my vow."
The Prince smiled, for it was very sure that vow or no vow, permissionor no permission, Lord James Audley would still be in the van. "Go,James," said he, shaking his hand, "and God grant that this day you mayshine in valor above all knights. But hark, John, what is that?"
Chandos cast up his fierce nose like the eagle which smells slaughterafar. "Surely, sir, all is forming even as we had planned it."
From far away there came a thunderous shout. Then another and yetanother.
"See, they are moving!" cried the Captal de Buch.
All morning they had watched the gleam of the armed squadrons whowere drawn up in front of the French camp. Now whilst a great blareof trumpets was borne to their ears, the distant masses flickered andtwinkled in the sunlight.
"Yes, yes, they are moving!" cried the Prince.
"They are moving! They are moving!" Down the line the murmur ran. Andthen
with a sudden impulse the archers at the hedge sprang to their feetand the knights behind them waved their weapons in the air, whileone tremendous shout of warlike joy carried their defiance to theapproaching enemy. Then there fell such a silence that the pawing of thehorses or the jingle of their harness struck loud upon the ear, untilamid the hush there rose a low deep roar like the sound of the tide uponthe beach, ever growing and deepening as the host of France drew near.