CHAPTER IX.
KING EDWARD AT PARIS.
Great had been the turmoil, the separation of comrades and ofdetachments, at the taking of Bruyerre. Hardly had Richard spoken twiceto Sir Thomas Holland or Sir Peter Legh. Now, however, that the army ofthe king was once more moving forward, there was chance for them to ridetogether. Not until then, indeed, did it come clearly to Richard's mindhow highly men thought of him for the taking and holding of the keep.Also, Sir Henry Wakeham had praised him much for his conduct in theperilous scaling of the walls by Giles Monson's secret pathway.
"I am well pleased," said Sir Peter, "that the order of march putteththee and thy outlaws with Sir Thomas and me. So they take not us fordeer and make targets of us, we are likely to render a good report tothe king."
"Aye," added Sir Thomas dryly, "I knew not why even thy wild Irish kernsand thy Welsh savages took thee, more than another, for theirchieftain, but I learned that they were like thy bowmen. Every man ofthem hath had a price set upon his head, for his good deeds before hewas pardoned into the army."
"The king's deer will be safer after this campaign," said Sir Peter,"if, indeed, he is marching this army to meet the host of France. Butthat I trust him well, I would deem him safer on the other side of theSeine."
Now any who knew the province of Normandy and the parts that they werein, could see that the river Seine ran at the left of their march. Itwas between them and any seeming road to the taking of Calais. Well upthe stream, in the direction they were taking, was the good city ofParis, with many strong forts, although it had no encircling wall. Itlay open, with castles and fortified posts outside of its streets andpalaces. At Paris, even now, there was a strong force of French, said tobe equal in numbers to the English army. More forces were fast marchingthitherward, but still King Edward was pushing on, as if he expected tocapture the French capital by a swift dash and a surprise.
This was therefore the meaning of Sir Peter Legh, and it had been in thethoughts of many other men.
"Word hath come by many of the king's scouts," replied Richard, "thatevery bridge over the Seine hath been broken down by the Frenchthemselves, so that our army can by no means reach the other bank."
"Sir Thomas Holland," asked Sir Peter, "knowest thou what saith the kingto that?"
"Nay," said Sir Thomas bluntly, "but I heard one Geoffrey of Harcourt,when a spy rode to him to tell that the last Seine bridge was down."
"What answered he?" asked Sir Peter.
"'Now all the saints be praised!' he said," responded Sir Peter."'Philip of Valois doeth our business well. Their bridges are gone, andthey can throw no force across the river to annoy our flank or rear. Wehave but a holiday march, unmolested.'"
Richard listened, that he might gather a lesson of war; but he said tothe knights:
"I do but bethink me of what was said by one of my own men when he heardconcerning the bridges. He is a carpenter from Coventry."
"What said he?" asked a deep voice behind them, as it were eagerly.
Then turned they all in their saddles, for there rode Sir Geoffrey ofHarcourt, and with him was the prince.
"My Lord Marshal," said Richard, "he did but laugh, and he laughedloudly. Then he told his mates: 'Ye are but fools, and the king is wise.Give me our forest men and the two companies of Kent and the Londonpikemen that are from the shipbuilding wards of London town. Then, if sobe the king wanteth a bridge he can have one. We will even shape it inthe woods in the morn, and have it over the stream at sunset.'"
"Richard Neville," said the marshal, "keep thou that saying to thyself,but search out thy man. Bid him and his to pick their wood workers, manby man. We shall have tools in plenty. The men do know each other. I waseven now troubled in mind concerning handicraftsmen."
"No need, my Lord Marshal," reverently responded Richard. "I did hearmore, and I can bring thee men that have built bridges over biggerstreams than these."
"Richard of Wartmont," now broke in the prince, "ride thou with me aspace. I would know more of thy men."
Then rode they silently until well apart from the others, and the princesaid to his friend:
"This concerning the bridges will please the king. He hath said to me,of the commons and of thy Saxon kin, that now he hath a power that willgrow fast, as he will help it grow. It hath not heretofore come to thehand of any king of England, and so some of them have been even toohardly dealt with by the great earls."
"I and mine are the king's men," said Richard, "and the king's only. ButI learn many new things of war. It is more than hard fighting. But theKing of France will have a great host."
"Oh that it were twice as great!" exclaimed the prince. "If my fathercan but gather it all, and as many more, at Paris, he will surely takeCalais."
Richard could but laugh, and he replied:
"Far be it from me to read beforehand the counsel of so great a captain.I think that even when all is done, and he hath won his will, there willbe those who will say that he never thought to do so."
"It is so ever," said the prince, "and therefore all the more surelydoth he win. But I think any man might read beforehand the plan of thiscampaign. Only that none expected so much aid from Philip in this matterof the bridges."
There is both pleasure and profit to be had in discerning well thedoings of the great, whereby battles are won or lost, and wherebythrones are builded or are overturned. Richard thought within himselfthat day and other days: "I do grow older as we march, and men haveoften said that war is a great school for such as will be taught. Therebe those who learn not anything. I will not be one of them."
On pressed the army, plundering as it went, and great spoil went back toEngland, but in its division the king cared for the lowly as well asfor the great, and there was no murmuring or dissatisfaction among themen in the rants.
Again and again was the river Seine approached by the detachments of theleft wing. Truly, every bridge had been broken with care, to prevent acrossing of the English. Richard had also many talks with Ben ofCoventry and with men who were brought by him. These also werepresented, a dozen at a time, to Sir Geoffrey and the Earl of Warwick,for the two marshals were of one accord in this matter. No tools weredealt out, however, nor was any work set the workmen, until a day whenthe vanguard halted at a place called Poissy. There was no French armyhere to meet them, and yet the city of Paris itself was but a few milesfarther on.
It was a gay sight, the lances and the pennons that rode out with thevan. Next came the royal standard, and under it, in full armor and withhis crowned helmet on, full knightly rode the king.
"Poissy!" he said. "Their last bridge, and it shall be for me, althoughthey have broken it down. Where is that London shipwright? Ha, man, lookyonder! What sayest thou?"
A short man, sturdy of build, was the shipwright, for he had alreadybeen brought.
"My Lord the King," he responded, "I did go on with the young Nevilleand that man of his from Coventry. The bridge is good enough. TheFrench took off the planks and some timbers, but they forgot to burn."
"Where are the timbers?" asked the king.
"Little on this side the river, but much on the other," said theshipwright. "All that is lacking we can make from these trees."
"Time!" exclaimed the king. "I must have the bridge forthwith! To youraxes!"
"Boats first," said the shipwright. "There be many on the far bank."
"Sire," interposed the Earl of Warwick, "I pray thee have patience.Richard of Wartmont hath sent word to me concerning boats. I shall hearagain shortly."
"See that he fail not," said the king hardly, for ever did his tempergrow stern and unmerciful in such an hour as was this.
The army had now been led to the very place where all the plan of theking was to be tested, for winning or for losing, and here, mayhap,might his life or his crown be cast away.
Barely an hour earlier, however, lower down the river side, RichardNeville and a party of his men had been scouting, by command of SirThomas Holland. With him was th
e O'Rourke, and it was the Irish chiefwhose keen eyes were the first to discern an important prize.
"Richard of Wartmont," he shouted, "Seest thou? Boats on the othershore! They are not even guarded."
"I could not swim this water," replied Richard. "Can any of them?"
"Aye, were it thrice--ten times as wide," said the O'Rourke. "I myself."
"Off with thy armor and axe!" cried Richard. "Call thy best swimmers.Bring me those boats. Guy the Bow, send a good runner to Sir ThomasHolland or Sir Peter Legh. Bid them, from me, to tell the earl or SirGeoffrey I want a force to hold with on the other shore."
Before he had finished speaking, the Irish chief and a dozen of hiskerns were in the flood, swimming as if they had been so many waterfowl; but each man's long skein dagger knife was in his belt, and in hisleft hand was a short spear, like those of the Welsh. They would notland unarmed.
"God speed them!" shouted Richard. "At no place heretofore have we seena boat that we might hope to obtain."
'Twas a swiftly running river, and too wide for any but such swimmers aswere these; but they made light of it. Ere they could cross, theircoming was seen by men on the other shore, but none who were armed metthem as they came out of the water. Surely it had been grave negligenceof King Philip's officers to leave there so many as four fishing boats,even if these were small. Wild and shrill rang out the slogan of theIrish, as they seized upon oars and paddles and prepared to launch theirprizes.
"They are out of arrow shot," said Richard to those who were with him;"we could give them no aid."
Even as he spoke, the glint of spears might be seen above bushes at nogreat distance down the opposite bank. No doubt there were horsemencoming. The Irish had been unwise to shout, but boat after boat wasslipping into the stream.
"Haste! haste!" groaned Richard, "they will be lost, and the boats withthem!"
A score of lances in rest--a score of galloping horses--loud shouts ofangry men-at-arms--one moment of deadly peril--but then the brave kernswith the last of the boats were springing into it, and the French ridersdrew rein at the water's edge under a shower of javelins, only to knowthat they were too late.
It was just then, moreover, that Sir Thomas Holland, having listenedeagerly to a Longwood archer, was shouting loudly, "To horse, braveknights all! The Neville hath found boats!" and orders followed to allfoot soldiery within call.
"They come," said Richard, waiting his gallant kerns, "but yonder boatswill hold only eight men each, well crowded. We can gain no landingagainst men-at-arms. Yonder, above, is a steeper bank, where horsemencan not reach the brink--O'Rourke, on! Up stream!"
It was not far to go, and the French lancers could do no more thanfollow as best they might, over rough ground and through denseundergrowth. They were even out of sight, by reason of the clifflikebank, when Richard Neville and some of his bowmen made the boats fullalmost to sinking, and were swiftly ferried over.
"Haste now, indeed!" he ordered, but not loudly, as he stepped ashore."A few boat loads more and we can hold our own."
Whoever commanded the Frenchmen believed his enemies to be going on upthe river, for he and his appeared on the bank again a full half mileabove. Again and again had the wherries borne their English passengers,and now they were going back for Sir Thomas Holland and the knights whodismounted with him.
"Is the Neville mad?" he exclaimed. "He is forming his archery on thehill. Look! 'Tis not ill done. There come King Philip's men-at-arms!Heaven help him! We are too late!"
"But the boy is not mad at all," replied Sir Peter Legh. "The Frenchhorses go down. There are not enough of them."
On the height, truly, had Richard formed his threescore or more of kernsand bowmen, with others fast arriving, but it was behind a thick, lowhedge of old thorn bushes, fit to break a rush of cavalry. Here,therefore, was shattered the line of the French men-at-arms; and whilethey strove to force their horses through the thorns, they were goodmarks for the arrows of Arden. Their horses were but lost animals, andthe good knights who rolled upon the ground surrendered rather than haveIrish spears driven between the bars of their helmets. So rapid, sodeadly was this killing of horses that not one did get away.
"I told thee!" said Sir Peter to Sir Thomas, in the boat that bore them."We shall find that he hath done a brave deed this day."
More loudly did they both aver that thing when they came to the scene ofthe skirmish.
"Knights of ransom!" exclaimed Sir Thomas. "Did any escape?"
"I know not," said Richard, "but if more boats be at hand, above orbelow, they are to be sought for. May not these four ply here, while wemarch up the stream?"
"No use to scout below," replied Sir Thomas. "We are now twentymen-at-arms, on foot, and near a hundred of thy kerns and bowmen. March!We may all die, but we may win the bridge head."
On the other bank they could see the columns of Earl Warwick's men, senthurriedly to re-enforce them, and shortly the O'Rourke shouted,"Another boat, and yet another twice larger, at the bank."
"That may save us," said Sir Peter, "but I would we were more innumber."
So said the king himself, as he sat upon his palfrey and gazed acrossthe Seine, not long thereafter. The French had not left the bridgewithout a guard, even if they had broken it down. Men of all arms werethere, with many crossbowmen, and at first they had but laughed andderided what they supposed to be the utter disappointment of KingEdward.
"Sire," exclaimed Sir Geoffrey of Harcourt, "the earl is right! Yonderare Richard of Wartmont and his men."
"Too few! Too few!" muttered the king. "He is over rash. He hath lostall."
All had been lost, indeed, but for the swift plying of the larger boatsand the manner of their packing with brave men.
Sir Thomas Holland had now been joined by Gifford and Wakeham and goodswords not a few, and the archers had swarmed into all boats like bees;with them were their stings, moreover, and most of all, mayhap, theycame upon the French at the bridge as a surprise.
Loudly were they jeering, and the crossbowmen were even hurling a fewuseless bolts that fell halfway, as if to show the king what error hehad made. There were many unarmed also, that crowded closely, mocking atthe English.
Not upon these, but upon spearmen and crossbowmen, there suddenly fell aflight of cloth-yard shafts, doing deadly work. In a moment the unarmedmob was tangled with the soldiery, and all these were in confusion. Howmany English were coming they knew not, for Sir Henry of Wakeham hadcunningly stretched out his line full widely, and it looked like astrong force. There were a few good French knights who set their spearsin rest and charged rashly, to be unhorsed and taken, but the mixed massbehind them surged away from the bridge head. Here, too, had been afort, not strong, but good enough for an occasion, and it was not at allbroken.
"Richard Neville," had said Sir Peter, "follow me. If we can gain yondertower and those palisades, the bridge is won."
Who would have deemed that a man in armor of proof could run so well!But Sir Peter was even shoulder to shoulder with Guy the Bow and Richardwhen they rushed into the empty fortalice.
"Won!" shouted Sir Peter. "Let in our own, but the French will rally;they will be back upon us quickly enough."
Sir Henry and the rest had a sharp fight of many minutes ere they couldbreak through, but now the place was garrisoned, and the boats couldcome in safety to the wharf below, behind the line of palisades.
"Sire," said Sir Geoffrey, "I will myself go over and care for thematter."
"Thou wilt not," replied the king. "I will not risk thy head in thatcage until more men-at-arms may be with thee. There! 'tis Sir Henry ofWakeham's own banner! I knew it not. The boy and his outlaws have gainedour crossing. Go, Sir Geoffrey, and take with thee the bridge-builders."
It was well for him and them, nevertheless, that their headlong rashnesshad not cost them their lives, as it would have done, but for thepromptness and power of their re-enforcements.
"Wakeham," said Sir Geoffrey, in the bridgehead fort, "I may hardl
ytrust my eyes. Here could Philip have given us vast trouble, and now wehave none. We will have a camp here quickly, with ten thousand men init, lest we lose this advantage."
There were boats enough now, and the forces on that bank were growingfast. They were pushing out, moreover, and they were skirmishing brisklywith sundry parties of the enemy who seemed to be without a general.Therein was the secret of this matter. Philip of France had been takenunawares by the bold, swift dash of Edward's army. Its vanguard hadreached Poissy, mayhap, two days before the French captains had deemedit possible for it to get there.
The night came and went, and it was the next midday when Richard Nevillestood on the wharf, watching the London shipwrights ply their tools andswing the timbers into place.
"A man who would move an army," he said aloud, "must needs learn how tobuild a bridge. I can row a boat, but I must swim better. Those Irishare as nimble as fishes in the water."
A deep voice hailed him at the moment, and he quickly turned.
"Sir Geoffrey!" he exclaimed.
"This to the king," said the marshal, holding out a very small parcel,like a letter. "Come thou not back, save by the king's command, tillthou hast carried this also to the earl. Take with thee only a boat loadof thy men, but go not alone, for thy errand must not miscarry."
So happened it, then, that only David Griffith and a dozen Welshmen wentwith him, whose tongue he spoke not; but on the other shore his boat waswaited for by the Earl of Warwick and none other, by chance.
"Glad am I," said Richard, giving him Sir Geoffrey's parcel, and theearl read hastily.
"To the king!" he shouted. "I go with thee. The good knight reasonswell. We must harry and burn to the Paris streets, that we may knowwhat power is there. He hath word that the allies and the levies ofPhilip of France are very near to come."
"The bridge buildeth fast," said Richard. "Ben of Coventry saith that bythe morrow there will be a footway for twain abreast."
"Aye," replied the earl, "but not for horses nor for wains. Three daysmore for them."
The English army was now holding both sides of the stream, and thequarters of the king were in the old chateau of Poissy, not far from thebridge. Small was his care for state, however, and plain was hisordering, as of a soldier in the field. None hindered the earl marshal,and the king's officer of the house, that day, was Sir John of Chandos,good knight and true.
A greeting, a courteous reverence from Sir John to the earl, a word orso of command, and Richard was before the king in the audience hall ofthe chateau.
Cold, hard, and stern, like iron and like ice, was the face of hisMajesty, as he opened and read the letter from Sir Geoffrey.
"Neville," said he to Richard, "hast thou spoken to any but the earl?"
"Not so, Sire," said Richard. "I did meet him at the river bank."
"Thou art young," said the king; "be prudent also, on thy head. Tell noman, high or low, that Philip hath already forty thousand men in Paris.If thou shalt betray that matter, thou diest."
"He useth not his tongue overmuch," said the earl, for the king's wordpleased him not. "But he hath somewhat more to say."
"Let him say on," growled the king, for it was shown that he was sorewroth ere they came.
"If it please the King," said Richard boldly, "a peasant whom I saw notfled from the city and had speech with some of the Welshmen. He was ofBrittany, and their language was like to their understanding of eachother. He saith not forty thousand, but less than half, only that theyare mostly men-at-arms, with few horses to ride upon. There be many footsoldiers from Brittany. I would go around the city in one night, ifDavid Griffith and another might go with me. Do not I speak French as dothose I am to meet?"
"Wilt thou let him go, Warwick?" said the king. "It were death if hewere taken."
"Richard, go thou!" said the earl. "If any question thee, tell that thouart Richard de la Saye, for I now give thee that estate of mine inBrittany. Thou wilt not speak falsely.--Sire, hath he not earned LaSaye?"
"Verily, if he keep his head and bring back true tidings, he will haveearned a manor or so," said the king less hardly. "I were in bettermood with better news, but I have word from York. The archbishop iscalling out all forces, for the Scottish clans are mustering and theirhost will march for the border forthwith. Moreover, our barons aresluggards, and our own re-enforcements do not come. We must even beatthe French with what we have. Not a man more than we landed with at LaHague."
"I will retire, then," said the earl. "I will send Richard speedily."
Out they did go, but Sir John of Chandos shook his head and lookedruefully at Richard.
"Heed him not!" said the earl. "Keep thy heart strong. Make thou thecircuit of Paris and come again. It will be the easier because I shallthis night attack with a strong force the suburb and castle of St.Germain, near the city."
Many other things he said, but Richard sent for David Griffith, and theytalked long together. Two more of Griffith's clansmen were called in,and both agreed with no murmuring.
On foot, clad in full armor, with his helmet closed, armed with butsword and dagger, attended only by the three Welshmen, as if they werearmed serving men, did Richard at the gloaming walk slowly along the St.Germain road. By another way, he knew, the earl marshal was at that hourpushing forward his force, but the sound of the combat had not yetbegun.
"We shall soon reach an outpost of the foe," he was thinking, when in ashadowed hollow beyond him he heard one speak in French:
"Who cometh, in the king's name?"
"Normandy, with a countersign."
"Advance, Normandy, with the sign."
"For Philip the King, Guienne!"
"And all is well, Guienne," replied the sentry.
There was a slight clank of armor, for the French outpost was butchanging sentries, and the officer rode away.
"Now we know sign and countersign," said Richard, and he carefullyinstructed his companions.
Hardly had he done so before a glare of red light, not far to the right,told of hayricks set on fire by Warwick's men. There came sounds oftrumpets also, and of shouting, for the attack had begun.
"Forward, now," said Richard; "we are safe, if once within their lines."
Loud and angry was the summons of the French vidette, startled sorely.
"De la Saye, Normandy, with a countersign," responded Richard.
"Advance, De la Saye and Normandy, with a sign," replied the sentry.
"To Philip the King, Guienne," said Richard, "and I bid thee save thyneck. The English are charging in."
"The Count d'Ivry," began the sentry.
"Cease thy chatter!" exclaimed Richard. "Go tell the count, from De laSaye, that Earl Warwick is upon him. Bid him, from me, to send wordspeedily to the king, lest he lose his head."
"Aye, Sieur de la Saye," spoke yet another voice from one who sat upon ahorse in the road. "Thou hast scouted far and well. I am the Count de laTorre, of Provence. I will report well of thee to the king. Our otherscouts are worthless. What force sawest thou with the earl?"
"A thousand men-at-arms, about three thousand foot, in the advance. Whatmore behind them knoweth no man. But there surely is no need to lose St.Germain this night."
Fiercely loud were the sayings of the count concerning the carelessnessand bad management of the French captains. They had lost the bridge ofPoissy. They were keeping but poor guard elsewhere. Now, but for thisSieur de la Saye, of Brittany, naught would have been known of Warwick'sdash upon the city.
Therefore forward marched Richard and his Welshmen, and for a distanceDe la Torre rode beside them, questioning right soldierly concerning allthat they had seen. But he spoke not, he said, the tongue of thepeasants of Brittany.
"Were we all born in Paris," said David, after the count left him, "wecould hardly be safer than we now are. But our peril will come ingetting out."
"Great will it be," said Richard, "if we escape not before they changethe countersign. We will walk fast and work while we may."
The Welshmen found no troops from Brittany until near the dawn, and thenit was but at an outpost. Sleepy and dull were the half score of pikemenwho were rudely aroused to hear the Sieur de la Saye scolding theirbrigadier for carelessness, and compelling him to repeat the countersignmore correctly.
Griffith and his two men spake, and then they were silent, suddenly.
"On, my Lord of Wartmont!" whispered David hoarsely. "On, for thy head!Some of these men came from within two leagues of La Saye. One cometh tothe brigadier."
A few quick paces and they were beyond the camp firelight. It was aplace of trees and bushes. Sharp voices heard they contending andinquiring.
"Some one else hath come," said Richard. "The officer of the guard, withhorsemen. Into the forest! Haste!"
Down dropped they behind cover, but men-at-arms went charging down theroad, for one of the peasant pikemen had told to the brigadier, and thento a knight:
"The chateau La Saye is a heritage of the English Earl Warwick, and ithath no French owner."
"Go! a spy!" roared the knight. "We will teach him a lesson!"
A youth brought up near Longwood and three Welshmen from the hills werenot men easily to be found in a forest; surely not by heavily armedFrench cavalry. It was high noon, nevertheless, when Richard marchedwearily into an encampment over which floated the flag of Sir ThomasGifford.
Free was his welcome; but when he stood before his good friend theknight he did but put a finger to his lips, and say:
"Sir Thomas, the king, and him only!"
"Speak thou no other word!" exclaimed Sir Thomas. "Come with mespeedily. The earl told me of thy going. Glad am I to see thee againalive."
No other was allowed to question them as they went; but Sir Geoffrey ofHarcourt, and not Earl Warwick, was with King Edward when his young spyof Paris stood before him.
"Speak thou slowly and with care," he said, and Richard told his tale.
"Three days, and Philip's main host will be within striking distance?"murmured the king at last. "Chandos, go thou to Warwick and bid himsmite fast and hard, burning tower and hamlet. Harcourt, move every manand horse across the bridge as fast as it will bear them. Our five dayshere will be enough for rest. On the sixth we must be a full day's marchin advance of this huge mob of French, Germans, Bohemians, Italians, andwhat not. Now, my lords and gentlemen, for a great battlefield and forthe taking of Calais. Our barons of the north counties must deal withDavid of Scotland and his overtreacherous raid."
Out went all orders speedily, but the prince, with half the army, wasalready on the farther bank of the Seine. Richard's men were there also,and he was sent to join them; but bitter and destructive was the workdone by the earl marshal in the outskirts of Paris, while the bridge wasfinishing, and while the army moved on, out of camp after camp.
Even as the king had commanded, the sixth day found his rear guard halfa day's march beyond Poissy, seemingly in hot retreat. Philip of Francehad been as busy as had been his English rival, and his vast host wasalso moving. But it was not well in hand, nevertheless, for after that,from camp to camp, from river to river, day after day, the perfectlytrained forces of Edward kept just beyond his reach, as if they wereenticing him to follow.
There was many a sharp skirmish, and the French captains believed thattheir foe had often but narrowly escaped.
'Twas the king's plan, nor did he at any time hasten his march, and atlast he said to his two marshals, mockingly:
"Philip hath me now, indeed, between his host and this river Somme andthe sea. But I think the men and the beasts are not overwearied, and wehave left but a desert behind us. Yet three days now, and we may need toretreat no more."
CHAPTER X.
THE GREAT DAY OF CRECY.
"'Tis yet an hour before the tide will be out, but I believe thathorsemen might cross now."
The speaker was a clownish-looking man wearing the wooden shoes andcoarse blouse of a French peasant. He stood at the stirrup of a knightin black armor, whose questions he was answering.
"Sir Henry of Wakeham," the prince said, "send in thy men-at-arms. Postthy archers on the bank, right and left. We shall soon see if Godemar duFay can bar the Somme against us."
"The archers are already posted," replied Sir Henry; "Neville and hisWarwickshire men hold the right. The men of Suffolk and Kent are on theleft."
"Forward, in the king's name!" commanded the young general, for hisroyal father had given him charge of the advance.
It was a critical moment, for if the ford of Blanche Taque should notbe forced, the entire English army would be hemmed in between the riverSomme and the hosts of France. It was but little after sunrise, andEdward had sent orders to all his captains to move forward.
The river Somme was wider here than in its deeper channels above andbelow. The opposite bank was held by a force that was evidently strong,but its numbers were of less account at the outset. Only a few fromeither side could contend for the passage of Blanche Taque.
Therefore these were the chosen knights of all England who now rode intothe water, finding it nearly up to their horse girths.
Forward from the other shore rode in the men-at-arms of Godemar du Fayto hold the ford for Philip of Valois.
"Now is our time!" shouted Richard to his archers. "Guy the Bow, letevery archer draw his arrow to the head!"
Ill fared it then for the French riders when among them, aimed at horsesrather than at men, flew the fatal messengers of the marksmen from theforest of Arden. Lances were fiercely thrust, maces and swords rangheavily upon helm and shield; but soon the French column fell intoconfusion. Its front rank failed of support and was driven steadilyback. It was almost as if the English champions went on without pausing;and in a few minutes they were pushing forward and widening their frontupon the land.
Blanche Taque was taken, for of Godemar du Fay's twelve thousand, only athousand were men-at-arms. When the regular ranks of these were broken,his ill-disciplined infantry took to flight and the battle was over. Allthe while the tide was running out.
"Stand fast, O'Rourke!" called Richard to the impatient Irish chieftain,who was striding angrily back and forth in front of his line of axemen.
"Ay, but, my Lord of Wartmont," returned the O'Rourke, "there isfighting, and we are not in the battle. Hark!"
"Neville, advance! Thou and all thine to the front, seeking Wakeham. Inthe king's name, forward!"
A knight in bright armor had drawn rein at a little distance, and hepointed toward the ford as he spoke. It was crowded still by Sir ThomasGifford's men-at-arms, but the battle on the other shore had drifted faraway.
"Forward, O'Rourke!" shouted Richard. "Forward, Guy the Bow! Forward,David Griffith! Good fortune is with us. We are to be under the prince'sown command."
Loud cheers replied, and with much laughter and full of courageRichard's force waded into the shallow Somme.
It was easy crossing now for all, with none to hinder. Then, as thelast flags of the English rearguard fluttered upon the left bank of theSomme, good eyes might have discovered on the horizon the banners of theforemost horsemen of King Philip. He had marched fast and far thatmorning, and once more the English army seemed barely to have escapedhim.
"A cunning hunter is our good lord the king," remarked Ben o' Coventryto his fellows as they pushed on.
"Thou art ever malapert," said Guy the Bow. "What knowest thou of thethoughts of thy betters?"
"He who runs may read," said Ben. "Can a Frenchman live without eating?"
"I trow not," responded Guy. "What is thy riddle?"
"Did we not waste the land as we came?" said Ben. "Hath not Philip thesethr
ee days marched through the waste? I tell thee that when he is overthe Somme he must fight or starve. Well for us, and thanks to the king,that we are to meet a host that is both footsore and half famished. Ican put down a hungry man any day."
Deep indeed had been the wisdom of the king, and his army encamped thatThursday night, without fear of an attack, and the next morning theyagain went on.
Edward himself rode forward in the advance, after the noontide ofFriday, and during the whole march he seemed to be searching the landwith his eyes.
"Sir John of Chandos," he exclaimed at last, "see yon windmill on thehill. This is the place I sought. Ride thou with me." The hill was notvery high, and its sides sloped away gently. The king dismounted at thedoor of the mill and gazed in all directions.
"They will come from the west," he said, "with the sun in their eyes.Yon is our battlefield. Here we will bide their onset. Chandos, knowestthou that I am to fight Philip of Valois on mine own land?"
"The village over there is called Crecy," replied Sir John. "Truly, thecrown of France is thine, rather than Philip's!"
"Ay, so," said Edward, "whether or no he can keep it from me; but thisbroad vale and the village and the chateaux are my inheritance from mygrandmother. Seest thou that ditch to the right, with its fellow on theleft? I trust they have good depth. 'Tis a field prepared!"
After that he rode slowly, with his son and a gallant company,throughout the camps, talking kindly and familiarly with high and lowalike, and bidding all to trust God and be sure of victory. Brave menwere they, and well did they love their king, but it was good for theircourage that they should see his face and hear his voice, and assuretheir hearts that they had a great captain for their commander.
In number they were about as many as had sailed at the first fromEngland, small losses by the way, and the absence of those left asgarrisons of strongholds captured in Normandy, having been made good bylater arrivals.
This first duty done, the king went to his quarters in the neighboringcastle of La Broye, and here he gave a grand entertainment to all hiscaptains and gentlemen of note. There was much music at the royal feast,and every man was inspired to do his best on the morrow. All theinstruments sounded together loudly, at the close, when the warriors,who were so soon to fight to the death, arose to their feet and stoodthen in silence, while the king and the prince turned away and walkedout of the hall together, no man following.
"Whither go they?" whispered the Earl of Hereford to Sir John Chandos.
"As it doth well become our king at this hour," replied Sir John. "Theygo to the chapel of La Broye to pray for victory. 'Twill do our men noharm to be told that the king and the prince are on their knees."
"Verily, my men shall know," said Richard Neville to Sir Thomas Gifford.
All of Edward's army, save the watchers and sentries, slept soundlythat night. It was wonderful how little uncertainty they had about theresult of the battle.
The morning came, but there were clouds in the sky and the air wassultry. It was Saturday, the 26th of August, 1346.
Edward the king posted himself at the windmill. On the slope and belowit were a third of his men-at-arms and a strong body of footmen. Thiswas the reserve. In front thereof, the remainder of the army wasplaced in the form of a great harrow, with its point--a blunt oneenough--toward the hill, and its beams marked by the ditch lines.
The right beam of this English harrow was commanded by the Black Princein person, and with him were the Earls of Warwick and Hereford, Geoffreyof Harcourt, and Sir John Chandos, with many another famous knight.Their force was less than a thousand men-at-arms, with many Irish andWelsh, but they were especially strong in bowmen, for the king retainedfew archers with him.
But little less was the strength of the left beam of the harrow,commanded by the earls of Northampton and Arundel.
"Fortune hath favored us!" exclaimed one of the men-at-arms to his youngcommander; "we are well placed here at the right. We shall be among thefirst to face the French!"
"Here cometh the prince," responded Richard, "with his Red Dragon bannerof Wales. The royal standard is with the king at the mill."
Reviewing the lines with care, and giving many orders as he came, theprince rode up, clad in his plain black armor and wearing the helmet ofa simple esquire.
"Richard Neville," he said, as he drew near, "see that thou dost thydevoir this day."
Richard's head bowed low as the prince wheeled away. As he again saterect upon his war horse a voice near him muttered:
"Ho! seest thou? The French are coming!"
Richard looked, and in the distance he could see a glittering and aflag, but after a long gaze he replied:
"It is too soon. Those are but a band of skirmishers."
So it proved; and the long, hot hours went slowly by. At length the kingordered that every man should be supplied with food and drink, that theymight not fight fasting.
Darker grew the clouds until they hung low over all the sky. Blueflashes of lightning were followed by deafening thunder peals, and thenthere fell a deluge of warm rain.
The English archers were posted in the front ranks along the harrowbeams, but the rain harmed not their bows. Every bowstring was as yet inits case, with its hard spun silk securely dry.
"Hearken well, all," said Richard, addressing his men. "The princeordereth that there shall be no shouting. Fight with shut lips, and sendforth no shaft without a sure mark."
"We are to bite, and not to bark," said Ben o' Coventry in a low voice.Then he added aloud: "Yon marshy level is better for the rain. A horsemight sink to his pasterns."
"The ditch runneth full," said Richard. "The king chose his battleground wisely."
"We are put behind the archery now," said David Griffith to hisWelshmen. "So are the Irish; but our time to fight will come soonenough."
Most of the men-at-arms belonging to each beam of the harrow were drawnup at the inner end, ready to mount and ride, but wasting no effort nowof horse or man.
"The very rain hath fought for England," remarked the prince to hisknights, as at the front they wheeled for their return. "There will behard marching for the host of Philip of Valois."
"They must come through deep mud and tangled country, my Lord thePrince," replied the Earl of Warwick. "His huge rabble of horse and footwill be sore crowded and well wearied."
Moreover, there was much free speech among the knights concerning thedifference between the opposing armies as to their training anddiscipline.
King Philip willed to begin the fight with an advance of his Genoesecrossbowmen, fifteen thousand strong. It was bolts against arrows. TheGenoese might have done better on another day, for their fame was great;but at this hour they were at the end of a forced march of six leagues,each man carrying his cumbrous weapon with its sheaf of bolts. This hadweakened their muscles and diminished their ardor; besides, the suddenrain had soaked their bowstrings. The cords stretched when the strain ofthe winding winch was put upon them, and had lost their spring, so thatthey would not throw with good force. Their captains nevertheless drovethem forward, at the French king's command.
From his post at the mill foot the royal general of England surveyed thefield.
"The day waneth," he said to his earls, "but the waiting is over. Thesun is low and sendeth the stronger glare into their eyes. Mark you howclosely packed is that hedge of men-at-arms and lances behind theGenoese? Philip is mad!"
On pushed the crossbowmen, until they were well within the beams of thebroad harrow, but there they halted, to do somewhat with their bolts,if they could; and they sent up a great shout. No answer came, for theEnglish archers stood silent, holding each a cloth-yard arrow ready forthe string.
Small harm was done by the feebly shot crossbow bolts, and the Genoesewere ordered to go nearer. They made a threatening rush indeed; but thenof their own accord they halted again and shouted, thinking perhaps toterrify the English army.
Steady as statues stood the archers until the Earl of Hereford, at aw
ord from the prince, rode out to where he could be seen by all andwaved his truncheon.
Up came the bows along the serried lines, while each man chose his markas if he were shooting for a prize upon a holiday in merry England.
Those of the enemy who escaped to tell the tale said afterward that thenit seemed as if it snowed arrows, so swiftly twanged the strings andsped the white shafts.
With yells of terror the stricken Genoese broke and fled; for by reasonof Edward's order of battle they were in a cross fire from the two beamsof the harrow, and few shots failed of a target among them.
Some of them even cut the damp strings of their useless crossbows asthey went, lest they should be bidden to turn and fight again. They werenow, however, only a pell-mell mob, and it was impossible to commandthem.
Behind the advance of the Genoese had been the splendid array of KingPhilip's men-at-arms--a forest of lances. In a fair field, and handledwell, they were numerous enough to ride down the entire force of KingEdward. Against such an attack the English king had cunningly provided.At no great distance in the rear of his knights rode Philip himself,with kings and princes for his company; and fierce was his wrath overthe unexpected discomfiture of his luckless cross-bowmen.
"Slay me these cowardly scoundrels!" he shouted to his knights. "Chargethrough them, smiting as ye go!"
Forward rode the thousands of the chivalry of France and Germany andBohemia, every mailed warrior among them being full of contempt for thethin barrier of English foot soldiers. All they now needed, it seemed tothem, was to disentangle their panoplied war horses from that crowd ofpanic-stricken Genoese. It would also be well if they could pass the wetground and avoid plunging against one another in the hurly burly.
But now was to be noted another proof of the wise forethought of theEnglish king. He had had prepared, and the prince had placed at shortintervals along the battle line, a number of the new machines called"bombards." These were short, hollow tubes, made either of thick oakenstaves, bound together with strong straps of iron, or (as was said ofsome of them) the staves themselves were bars of iron. Before this day,none knew exactly when, there had been discovered by the alchemists acurious compound that, packed into the bombards, would explode withforce when touched by fire, and hurl an iron ball to a great distance.It would hurt whatever thing it might alight upon; but the king'sthought was rather that the loud explosions and the flying missilesmight affright the mettled horses of the French men-at-arms.
Soon the air was full of the roaring of these bombards, and they servedsomewhat the king's purpose. But so little was then thought of this useof gunpowder at Crecy that some who chronicled the battle, not havingbeen there to see and hear, failed even to mention it.
Soon the air was full of the roaring.]
The fine array of the gallant knights was now confused indeed. Theyvainly sought to restore their broken order. Not only the manner of theflight of the Genoese, and the greater force and longer line of theright beam of the English harrow invited them to urge their steeds inthat direction, but there also floated the Red Dragon banner of thePrince of Wales. Well did each good knight know that there was beatingthe heart of the great battle.
Worse than the noisy wrath of bombards came now at the command of theprince. To right and left, plying their bows as they went, wheeledorderly sections of the archery lines, that through those gaps mightpass the fierce rush of the wild Welshmen. They were ordered forward,not to contend with knights in armor of proof, but to slay the horseswith their javelins.
Terrible was the work they did, darting lightly to and fro; and it waspitiful to see so many gallant knights rolled helplessly upon theground, encumbered by their armor. Nevertheless, many kept theirsaddles, and broke through the Welsh to find themselves forced to drawrein in front of the deep ditches that guarded the archery, who wereever plying their deadly bows.
"Down lances!" shouted the Black Prince to his men-at-arms, at the headof the harrow. "For England! For the king! St. George! Charge!"
More than two thousand mailed horsemen, of England's best, struck theirspurs deep as the royal trumpet sounded. Riders and horses were freshand unwearied.
There was the thunder of many hoofs, a crash of splintering lances, andthey were hand-to-hand with King Philip's disordered chivalry. Well forhim and his if he had then sounded a recall, so that his shatteredforces might be rearranged; but instead, he poured forward his reserves,thereby increasing the pressure and the tumult, while the Englisharchers ever plied their bows with deadly effect.
It was then that the blind King of Bohemia, the ally of Philip in thiswar, was told how the day was going. At his side rode several of hisnobles, and he said to them:
"I pray and beseech you that you lead me so far into the fight that Imay strike one blow with this sword of mine."
He had been accounted a knight of worth in his youth, and the spirit ofbattle was yet strong upon him, neither did there yet seem to be goodreason why his request should not be granted. Therefore his friends oneither hand fastened the bridle bits of their horses on a line with hisown, and they rode bravely forward together.
Right hard was the strife that now went on, especially between the beamsof the harrow and toward the right. In the midst of it floated the RedDragon flag, and here the prince and his companions in arms werecontending against the greater numbers of their assailants. Here was thecenter toward which all were pressing, and here, it was seen, the fateof the battle was to be decided. For this very reason the pressure wasless upon the left beam of the harrow, and its captains could the betterobserve the marvelous passage at arms around the prince.
"Sir Thomas Norwich," spoke the Earl of Northampton, "we must all goforward and do our best. Ride thou to the king, and crave of him that hesend help with speed. We fear it is full time for the reserves to move,if it be not even now too late."
Then the Earl of Arundel and other knights lowered their lances, andsetting spurs to their horses charged into the thickest press.
Away spurred the knight of Norwich, and ere many minutes had elapsed hegave the message to the king at the foot of the windmill; for there hadthe king been standing all the while watching the course of the battlewith better perception than could be had by any of those who were in it.He could therefore discern in what manner Philip of Valois was defeatinghimself, crushing his own forces.
"Is my son dead, or unhorsed, or so wounded that he can not helphimself?" he calmly inquired of the messenger.
"No, Sire," responded Norwich; "but he is in a hard passage at arms, andsorely needeth your help."
"Return thou, Sir Thomas, to those who sent thee," said the king, "andbid them not to send to me so long as my son liveth. Let the boy win hisspurs; for, if God so order it, I will that the day may be his, and thatthe honor may be with him and with them to whom I gave it in charge."
No more could the good knight say, and back he rode without company.
There were those who thought it hard of the king, but better it was thathe should hold his reserves for utter need.
Nevertheless, the aspect seemed to be growing darker to the true Englishhearts that were fighting in the press. They saw not, as the king did,that, owing to his cunning plan of battle, more in number of the Englishthan of the enemy were at any instant actually smiting, save at thecenter, around the prince himself.
Dark as was the seeming, the heart of none was failing.
"To the prince! To the prince!" shouted Richard Neville, as the space infront of him was cleared somewhat of foemen. "Follow me!" Forward hewent, and loudly rang out behind him the battle shouts of his men. Theywere fewer than at the beginning, but boldly and loyally they had closedup shoulder to shoulder.
Richard's horse was slain under him by a thrust from a German pike; butthe rider was lifted to his feet in time to meet the rush of the King ofBohemia and his friends. Their horses were sadly hampered by thathitching together of bridles, and were rearing, plunging, unmanageable.More than one blow had the old, blind hero given that
day, as he hadwilled. None knew now by whose arrows his horse and those of hiscomrades went down, but after they were unhorsed the wild tide of thebattle passed over them, for none of them rose again.
"To the prince!" shouted Richard fiercely. "I saw his crest go down!"
The arrows and darts flew fast as the young hero of Wartmont fought hisway in amid the crash of swords and lances.
"Now, Heaven be praised!" he cried out, "I see the prince! He liveth!"
He said no more, for before him stood a tall knight with a golden wingupon his helmet, and wielding a battle-axe.
Clang, clang, followed blow on blow between those twain. It had beenharder for Richard but that his foe was wearied with the heat and thelong combat. Well and valorously did each hold his own, but a blow fromanother blade fell upon Richard's bosom, cleaving his breastplate. Then,even as he sank, across him strode what seemed some giant, and a wildcry in the Irish tongue went up as the O'Rourke poleaxe fell upon theshoulder of the knight of the golden wing.
"On!" shouted the furious chief. "On, men of the fens! Forward,Connaught and Ulster! Vengeance for our young lord! Down with theFrench!"
Hundreds of strong Irish had followed their leader, and timely indeedwas their coming, for the sun was sinking, and need was to win thevictory speedily.
"Alas!" said Guy the Bow, as he bent over Richard. "I pray thee, tellme, art thou deadly hurt, my lord?"
"Lift me!" gasped Richard. "Put me upon my feet. I would fight on andfall with the prince."
Quickly they lifted him, but he staggered faintly and leaned upon Guythe Bow.
"I fear he is sore hurt," muttered Guy.
But at that moment there arose a great shouting. It began among thereserves who were with the king on the slope of the hill.
"They fly! The foe are breaking! The day is ours! The field is won! Godand St. George for England, and for the king!"
It was true, for the army of the King of France could bear no more. Allthings were against them. They could neither fight in ranks nor fleefrom the cloth-yard shafts.
The prince came near the group around Richard, and, pausing from givingswift orders to his knights, he stepped forward.
"'Tis Richard of Wartmont!" he exclaimed. "Is he dying?"
Straight up stood Richard, raising his visor. He was ghastly pale, buthis voice had partly come back to him.
"I think not, Prince Edward," he faltered. "But I thank Heaven that thouart safe!"
"Courage!" said the prince. "The field is ours, and thou hast won honorthis day. Bear him with me to the king."
Here and there brave fragments of what had been the mighty host ofFrance held out and still fought on; but they were not enough. Allothers sought to save themselves as best they might from the pitilessfollowing of the English. Those in the rear who fled at once were safeenough, and the sunset and the evening shadows were good friends to manymore of the French. Most fortunate were such horsemen as had not beenable to get into the harrow, for only about twelve hundred knights wereslain. With them, however, fell eleven princes and the King of Bohemia,and thirty thousand footmen. The King of France himself was a fugitivethat night, seeking where he might hide his head.
From his place on the hill King Edward of England watched the closing ofthe great day of Crecy, and now before him stood a strange array. Shornplumes, cloven crests or none, battered and bloody armor, broken swords,shivered lances, battle-worn faces, lighted somewhat by pride ofvictory, were arrayed before him. All were on foot, and each man bowedthe knee.
Few, but weighty and noble with thanks and honor, were the words of theking. More he would say, he told them, when he should better know eachman's meed of praise.
At length the Black Prince came forward, and he knelt before his father,to rise a knight, for he had won his spurs.
"Richard of Wartmont!" cheerily spoke the king. "Come thou!"
"Sore wounded, Sire," said Sir Henry of Wakeham; "but I will aid."
"Not so," exclaimed the prince. "I will bring him myself."
When Richard was brought before King Edward, he heard but faintly thewords that made him a knight:
"Arise, Sir Richard of Wartmont!"
"Arise, Sir Richard of Wartmont!"]
All strength and life that were yet in Richard had helped him to leanupon the prince's arm, to kneel, to rise again, and to hear, almostwithout hearing, the good words of the king. Then he stepped backward,and Guy the Bow put an arm around him and said lovingly:
"Sir Richard of Wartmont, proud will thy lady mother be! I trow the waris over. When thy wounds are well healed we will take thee home to her."
Long after the sun went down strong detachments of King Edward's armywere busily at work gathering in the fruits of the victory. Not thatthere was any effort to take prisoners of the common men, but that manyknights who could pay good ransom lay upon the field sore wounded orencumbered with their armor. Moreover, there was great spoil of arms,and of other matters of war and peace.
Heavily slumbered Richard Neville, and a careless watcher might havethought him dead; but those who were with him watched lovingly,listening for every breath, and moving him with care at times.
"He waketh!" whispered Guy the Bow, as the light began to come inthrough the high window of the room in the chateau La Broye. "The leechwill soon be here."
Even as he spoke there entered a small, slight man in the black dress ofthe king's physicians. No word he spoke, but he bent low over the swordmark upon Richard's ribs, removing its cover.
"Is this all?" he asked of Guy.
"Save bruises," said Guy, "no other hurt have we found."
"The youth will do well," replied the leech. "He fell rather from heatand exhaustion of the long fray than from this blow. Not a rib is cutthrough."
He gave simple directions only, and he passed out, but he heard fromBen of Coventry:
"That man hath good sense. My Lady of Wartmont will not lose her son."
"But the leech did it not," said Guy. "More was done by the thickness ofyonder cloven breastplate. He will need long rest."
So did the army, but the king gave it no more than was needful. Beforethe close of that day all knew that the King of France himself had beentaken, and that the war had no more great battles in it.
All news was brought to Richard by his friends, for among them came EarlWarwick and Sir Geoffrey and the Earl of Arundel, and many another whosecoming was high honor to the young Knight of Wartmont.
Only the third day thence, and Richard stood almost firmly upon hisfeet, for Sir John Chandos entered the room.
"The king," he said, "and with him is the prince."
In a moment more it was to Richard as if he had gained sudden strength,for before him stood the two royal warriors.
"Nay, man, sit thee down!" commanded the king; but the Black Princestepped forward and grasped his hand.
"I heard thee, Richard Neville," he said most graciously--"I heard theein the fray, when thou didst bid thy men fight on and die with thee andme. I will trust thee!"
The king had looked kindly into Richard's face, and now he spoke again:
"Neville of Wartmont, whether or not thou goest to the seashore in alitter, thou wilt set out to-morrow. Haste is not needed so much as atrusty messenger. Thy packet will be ready for thee, and thou wilt alsohave in thy mind unwritten words for the Archbishop of York. Rest thouto-night. The prince will come to thee, not I; so will the earl."
Not long were ever the speeches of the king, but Sir John Chandos nowcame in again, for he had left them, and with him he brought a swordwith a silver hilt and cross.
"This is for thee, Richard Neville," said the prince, "for thine own wasbroken. Wear it bravely thou wilt. It was found among the baggage of theKing of France, and they say it hath been carried by more than onecrowned head. It is my token of good will, and the king's."
Richard knelt low to take the sheathed blade, but as he arose theydeparted. A little later it was as if all the archers of Longwood feltthat the roya
l sword had been given to them, so proud were they of theiryoung knight and captain.
Full a hundred of them, moreover, were permitted to return by ship withRichard. Much spoil went with them, and more had gone before them, andeach man went with a promise and a command to return with many men likehimself to aid the king before the walls of Calais.
Not in a litter would Richard travel the next day, after long conversewith the prince, but upon an ambling palfrey whose paces pained him not.
It was a small seaport to which the prince's order sent him. Even threelong days were wasted before the arrival of the craft that was to bearRichard and his men across the Channel. Rough, not smooth, was theirpassage to Portsmouth, but the sea was clear of all foemen.
It was well on in September, therefore, when a column of bowmen, withRichard at their head, rode through the gate of Warwick town. Thetidings of Crecy had reached the whole land much earlier, but the peoplepoured out of all the houses to see the first returning of the men whohad won the great day.
Richard now rode a good horse and wore his armor, with the crestedhelmet of a knight, with a gold chain and spurs, and he was girded withthe king's gift sword.
There was great shouting, and the Mayor met him, bidding him to a feastat the Town Hall, where many knights and gentlemen and rich burgherswere to welcome him, and to hear whatever he could tell of the war inFrance.
This, too, he well knew, was of the will of the king, to stir theloyalty of his lieges at home and to content them concerning the taxeshe yet must levy.
But on rode Richard to the castle gateway, and therein were many noblewomen.
"I see her!" he thought. "Is she not beautiful in her long white robeand with the pearls in her white hair?"
Down sprang the young knight, as if he had had never a wound, but erehis feet were on the earth his mother's arms were around him.
"I have thee again!" she exclaimed. "Thou art like thy father, O myson!"
She was silent then, and her eyes were closed, but her lips moved alittle. If it were a prayer of thanks, its words were heard only by Himwho is above.
The Countess of Warwick came next, and many that were Nevilles orBeauchamps, or of kindred houses, and they led him on into the castle.
"Mother," he said, "it is almost like a dream!"
"Thou wilt rest thee here," she said, after he told under what duty hewas bound. "I can not let thee go at once."
"The king bade me make no haste," he replied, "but rather to be hisnewsman to all who would inquire of the army and of its deeds. So shallthere be better content."
It was a grand feasting at the Town Hall. The archers from Crecy fieldwere feasted by themselves ere they set out for home, and many a stoutbowman who saw how well they were and heard their tales, was eager tomarch with them whenever the king again might send to bid them muster.
Of necessity the resting at Warwick was but brief, and then Sir RichardNeville and a party of men-at-arms rode northward. Not in haste, likehis first journey, was this he was making now. Hard was it to pass by orto get away from any tower or town to which he came; but everywhere hedid the errand upon which the king had sent him, and everywhere were allmen readier than before in their loyalty and their service of the crown,whether they were barons or commons.
Even more than to the king was the praise they were willing to give theprince.
Once again, as he drew near, did Richard wonder at the spire of YorkCathedral, and once more was he led on into the audience hall, and theninto the oratory of the archbishop, that he might deliver privately theletters and the messages of the king. Pale somewhat was the face of thegood prelate, but very calmly he read and he listened.
"My son," he said at last, "all is well. We will give God praise for thegood news from France, but thou knowest that the Scottish host is inEngland?"
"I have heard much," said Richard.
"Then know also that ere this they are face to face with our own lines.A battle as great as that of Crecy----"
Loud shouts were heard in the street without, and then in the greathall.
"My son!" exclaimed the archbishop, listening with lifted hand.
Open swung the door, and a barefooted friar rushed in.
"My Lord Archbishop! A knight from the battle! The Scottish host isdefeated----"
But close behind him strode a man in armor, covered with dust,unhelmeted, and marked by a fresh sword cut on his face.
"I waited not, my Lord Archbishop," he said. "King David of Scotland isa prisoner! His army is routed! He hath lost his crown!--What, Richard,art thou here?"
"Praise be to Heaven, Sir Robert Johnstone!" responded the archbishop."He cometh from the king's victory at Crecy----"
"Knighted!" exclaimed Sir Robert. "Then I will tell thee, Sir RichardNeville of Wartmont, this victory of our English bowmen over the clansand the men-at-arms of Scotland hath been won at the field of Neville'sCross. All the king's counsel hath prevailed, and his realm is safe!"
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