CHAPTER XXV
THE VOWS OF THE HERON
A week before May Day Hugh de Moreville reached Paris, and did all thathe could, on the part of the Anglo-Norman barons, to hasten thepreparations, and hurry the departure of Prince Louis. Matters, however,did not go so satisfactorily as he could have wished. Philip Augustuswas grave and reluctant; Louis, like his paternal grandfather, waspompous, slow, and somewhat sluggish; and the only person whose ideas onthe subject moved as rapidly as those of De Moreville was Blanche ofCastile, who inherited energy and intellect that would have made her, ifof the other sex, quite equal to the occasion. As it was, however, DeMoreville found much difficulty in persuading Louis to take the ultimatestep which might expose him to the censures of the Church; and, on theeve of a great banquet, he conceived the project of surprising theprince into one of the vows of chivalry considered too serious to bebroken or treated with indifference.
Now among the vows of chivalry in fashion at that period the most solemnwere known as “the vow of the peacock,” “the vow of the pheasant,” “thevow of the swans,” and “the vow of the cranes.” All these birds wereesteemed noble; and the peacock was, in a particular manner, accountedproper food for the valiant and the amorous; and, when the vow was aboutto be made the bird was roasted, decked in its most beautiful feathers,and made its appearance on a basin of gold and silver, and was carriedby ladies, magnificently dressed, to the assembled knights, who with allformality, made their vows over the bird in the presence of the company.But it was neither the vow of the peacock, nor the pheasant, nor theswans, nor the cranes, with which Hugh de Moreville was about tosurprise the heir of France.
On the morning before the royal banquet was to be given on May Day inthe palace which Philip Augustus, while embellishing and paving Paris,had built beside the great tower of the Louvre, Hugh de Moreville rodeout of the city with a little falcon on his wrist, and a spaniel runningat his horse’s feet, as if to recreate himself with sport, and wentfowling along the banks of the Seine till he caught a heron, which wasthe bird of which he was in search. Returning to Paris with the heron,he ordered it to be cooked, and placed between two dishes of silver;and, having pressed into his service two fiddlers, and a man who playedthe guitar, and secured the assistance of two young ladies--thedaughters of a count--to carry the dishes, and to sing songs, he, at thehour appointed for the banquet, proceeded to the Louvre, and entered thegreat hall, where Louis and Blanche of Castile were presiding at aboard, surrounded by young nobles of great name, and dames anddemoiselles celebrated for grace and elegance. The prince had what iscalled the Capet face, with the large, long, straight nose, slantingforward, and hanging over the short upper lip, and was no beauty; butthe princess inherited the features of her maternal ancestors, and wasfair and fascinating to behold as in the days when, in her youthfulwidowhood, she won the heart and inspired the muse of Thibault ofChampagne. Among the company were the Count of Perche, the Viscount ofMelun, the Count of Nevers, and the young Lord Enguerraud De Coucy, oneof that proud house whose chiefs had on their banners the mottodisclaiming the rank of king:--
“Je suis ni roi, ni prince aussi-- Je suis le Seigneur De Couci.”
“Open your ranks, good people,” cried Hugh de Moreville in a loud voice,as he entered the hall of the Louvre, with the two fiddlers and the manwho played the guitar and the two noble demoiselles carrying the heron;“I have a heron which my falcon has caught, and which, methinks, isfitting food for the knights who are subject to the ladies, who havesuch delicate complexions. My lords, there should be no coward sittingat this board, except the gentle lovers; yet I have with me the birdwhich is the most cowardly of all others; for such is the heron bynature, that, as soon as it sees its own shadow, it is astonished, andgives way to fear; and, since the heron is so timorous, and the timidought to make their vows on it, I opine that I ought to give it to myLord Louis, who is so faint-hearted that he allows himself to bedeprived of England, the noble country of which his lady and companionis the rightful heir; and, seeing that his heart has failed him, she islike to die disinherited. However, he must vow on the heron to take somestep befitting the occasion.”
Louis reddened perceptibly as De Moreville and the demoiselles stoodbefore him with the heron, and his eye flashed with pride and ire.
“By St. Denis!” said he, solemnly, “since I am charged withtimorousness, and the word coward is almost thrown in my face, I mustneeds prove my worth. I do vow and promise that, before this year ispast, I will cross the sea, my father’s subjects with me, and defy KingJohn; and, if he does come against me, I will fight him, let him be sureof that. With my oath have I taken this vow; and, if I live long enough,I will perform it, or die in labouring to accomplish it--so help me Godand St. Denis!”
When Hugh de Moreville heard the words of Prince Louis, he smiled withthe anticipation of triumph.
“Now, in truth,” exclaimed he, “matters will go right; and, for my part,I ought to have joy that, through this heron I have caught, victory willbe ours; and I swear by St. Moden that I will attend the Lord Louis toEngland, and act as marshal of his army, and do all that in me lies toset him on the throne, which is his lady’s by right; and, if I live, Iwill accomplish the vow I have taken.”
Again Hugh de Moreville moved on with the two silver dishes, and whilethe fiddles and the guitar played, and the demoiselles sang, he carriedthe heron to the Count of Nevers, and the Count of Perche, and the Lordde Coucy, and to each of the knights and barons present, who each tookthe vow, and then to the Viscount of Melun, who, however hostile to KingJohn and England, was not much gratified with the scene that was beingenacted before his eyes.
“Sir,” said De Moreville, pausing before the viscount, “vow to theheron, I pray thee.”
“At your will,” replied the viscount, sighing deeply; “but I marvelgreatly at so much talk. Boasting is nothing worth unless it beaccomplished. When we are in taverns or in festive halls, drinking thestrong wines, and looked upon by ladies drawing the kerchiefs roundtheir smooth necks, every man is eager for war and glory. Some, at suchtimes, in imagination conquer Yaumont and Aguilant, and others Rolandand Oliver; but when we are in the field, on our steeds, our limbsbenumbed with cold, with our shields round our necks, and our spearslowered, and the enemy approaches, then we wish we had never made suchvows. For such boasts, in truth, I would not give a bezant; not that Isay this to excuse myself; for I vow and promise, by the finger of St.John the Baptist, which was of late brought from Constantinople, that ifour lord, Louis, will cross the sea, and enter England, I will accompanyhim with all my forces, and do my devoir in aiding him to gain the realmwhich is by right his lady’s.”
Hugh de Moreville smiled grimly as the Viscount of Melun made his vow,and took the dishes, and again moving, with the fiddles and guitarplaying, and the demoiselles singing, he knelt before Blanche ofCastile, and said that “the heron he would distribute in time, butmeanwhile he implored her to say that which her heart would dictate;”and the princess, having vowed, in case of need, to embark for the warwhich Louis and his lords had sworn to undertake, the bird was cut upand eaten, and the ceremony closed.
And now Louis of France delayed no longer. Next day he presented himselfto Philip Augustus, and begged that his voyage might not be obstructed,for that he was under a vow which he could not break; and the king,though somewhat against his inclination, granted his son’s request; andLouis, with his lords and knights, and Hugh de Moreville, hastened toCalais.
At that time, one of the most remarkable of naval heroes was a Flemingby birth, who had originally been in a convent, and who was popularlyknown as Eustace the Monk. It is said that, on the death of his brotherwithout children, Eustace cast the cowl, and threw aside the monk’shabit, and abandoned the convent to inherit the property. But, be thatas it may have been, he had become a captain of pirates, and made hisname terrible on the sea. Allured into the service of Louis, Eustace hadfitted out at Calais a fleet to transport the French army to the Engl
ishcoast; and the prince, having embarked with his fighting men, put tosea. The voyage was not particularly prosperous. The winds were stormy,and the mariners of the Cinque Ports were eager and earnest in theirattacks on the French armament. Louis, however, escaped all perils, andon the 26th of May, 1216, landed at Sandwich.
But no sooner did he set foot in England than the legate excommunicatedhim, and the pope, on hearing that he had crossed the Channel,exclaimed, significantly--
“Sword, sword, spring from the scabbard, and sharpen thyself to kill!”