by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CAPTURE OF CALAIS.
When the bar was once ready for removal the captives delayed not aminute, for although it was now so late that there was little chance ofa visit being paid them, it was just possible that such might be thecase, and that it might occur to the knight that it would be safer toseparate them.
"Now, Ralph, do you go first, since I am lighter and can climb up bymeans of the strap, which you can hold from above; push the bar out andlay it down quietly in the thickness of the wall. A splash might attractthe attention of the sentries, though I doubt whether it would, for thewind is high and the rain falling fast. Unbuckle the strap before youmove the bar, as otherwise it might fall and I should have difficulty inhanding it to you again. Now, I am steady against the wall."
Ralph seized the bar and with a great effort pushed the bottom from him.It moved through the groove without much difficulty, but it needed agreat wrench to free the upper end. However, it was done, and laying itquietly down he pulled himself up and thrust himself through theloop-hole. It was a desperate struggle to get through, for it was onlyjust wide enough for his head to pass, and he was so squarely built thathis body with difficulty followed. The wall was four feet wide, and asthe loop-hole widened considerably without, there was, when he had oncepassed through from the inside, space enough for him to kneel down andlower one end of the strap to Walter. The latter speedily climbed up,and getting through the slit with much less trouble than Ralph hadexperienced--for although in height and width of shoulder he was hisequal, he was less in depth than his follower--he joined him in theopening, Ralph sitting with his feet in the water in order to make roomfor him.
The dungeon was upon the western side of the castle, and consequentlythe stream would be with them in making for shore. It was pitch-dark,but they knew that the distance they would have to swim could not exceedforty or fifty yards.
"Keep along close by the wall, Ralph. If we once get out in the streamwe might lose our way; we will skirt the wall until it ends, then thereis a cut, for as you saw when we entered, the moat runs right acrossthis neck. If we keep a bit further down and then land we shall befairly beyond the outworks."
Ralph slipped down into the water, and followed by Walter swam along atthe foot of the wall. They had already been deprived of their armor, buthad luckily contrived to retain their daggers in their belts, whichthey had again girdled on before entering the water. The stream hurriedthem rapidly along, and they had only to keep themselves afloat. Theywere soon at the corner of the castle. A few strokes further and theyagain felt the wall which lined the moat. The stream still swept themalong, they felt the masonry come to an end, and bushes and shrubs linedthe bank. They were beyond the outer defenses of the castle. Still alittle further they proceeded down the stream in order to prevent thepossibility of any noise they might make in scrambling up being heard bythe sentinels on the outer postern. Then when they felt quite safe theygrasped the bushes, and speedily climbed the bank. Looking back at thecastle they saw lights still burning there. Short as was the time theyhad been in the water they were both chilled to the bone, for it was themonth of February, and the water was bitterly cold.
"It cannot be more than nine o'clock now," Walter said, "for it is notmore than four hours since darkness fell. They are not likely to visitthe dungeon before eight or nine to-morrow, so we can rely upon twelvehours' start, and if we make the best of our time we ought to be far onour way by then, though in truth it is not fast traveling on a nightlike this through a strange country. I would that the stars wereshining. However, the direction of the wind and rain will be a guide tous, and we shall soon strike the road we traveled yesterday, and canfollow that till morning."
They were not long before they found the track, and then started at abrisk pace along it. All night they struggled on through wind and rainuntil the first dawn enabled them to see the objects in the surroundingcountry; and making for the forest which extended to within a mile ofthe road, they entered deep into its shelter, and there, utterlyexhausted, threw themselves down on the wet ground. After a few hours ofuneasy sleep they woke, and taking their place near the edge of theforest watched for the passage of any party which might be in pursuit,but until nightfall none came along.
"They have not discovered our flight," Ralph said at last, "or theywould have passed long before this. Sir Philip doubtless imagines thatwe are drowned. The water was within a few inches of the sill when westarted, and must soon have flooded the dungeon; and did he trouble tolook in the morning, which is unlikely enough seeing that he would besure of our fate, he would be unable to descend the stairs, and couldnot reach to the door, and so discover that the bar had been removed.No; whatever his motive may have been in compassing my death, he isdoubtless satisfied that he has attained it, and we need have no furtherfear of pursuit from him. The rain has ceased, and I think that it willbe a fine night; we will walk on, and if we come across a barn will makefree to enter it, and stripping off our clothing to dry, will sleep inthe hay, and pursue our journey in the morning. From our travel-stainedappearance any who may meet us will take us for two wayfarers going totake service in the army at Amiens."
It was not until nearly midnight that they came upon such a place asthey sought, then after passing a little village they found a shedstanding apart. Entering it they found that it was tenanted by two cows.Groping about they presently came upon a heap of forage, and taking offtheir outer garments lay down on this, covering themselves thickly withit. The shed was warm and comfortable and they were soon asleep, andawaking at daybreak they found that their clothes had dried somewhat.The sun was not yet up when they started, but it soon rose, and ere noontheir garments had dried, and they felt for the first time comfortable.They met but few people on the road, and these passed them with theordinary salutations.
They had by this time left Amiens on the right, and by nightfall werewell on their way toward Calais. Early in the morning they had purchasedsome bread at a village through which they passed; Walter'sNorman-French being easily understood, and exciting no surprise orsuspicion. At nightfall they slept in a shed within a mile of the ruinsof the castle of Pres, and late next evening entered the Englishencampment at New Town. After going to his tent, where he and Ralphchanged their garments and partook of a hearty meal, Walter proceeded tothe pavilion of the prince, who hailed his entrance with the greatestsurprise.
"Why, Sir Walter," he exclaimed, "what good saint has brought you here?I have but an hour since received a message from the Count of Evreux tothe effect that you were a prisoner in the hands of Sir Philip deHolbeaut, with whom I must treat for your ransom. I was purporting tosend off a herald to-morrow to ask at what sum he held you; and now youappear in flesh and blood before us! But first, before you tell us yourstory, I must congratulate you on your gallant defense of the Castle ofPres, which is accounted by all as one of the most valiant deeds of thewar. When two days passed without a messenger from you coming hither, Ifeared that you were beleaguered, and started that evening with sixhundred men-at-arms. We arrived at daybreak, to find only a smokingruin. Luckily among the crowd of dead upon the breach we found one ofyour men-at-arms who still breathed, and after some cordial had beengiven him, and his wounds stanched, he was able to tell us the story ofthe siege. But it needed not his tale to tell us how stanchly you haddefended the castle, for the hundreds of dead who lay outside of thewalls, and still more the mass who piled the breach, and the many wholay in the castle yard spoke for themselves of the valor with which thecastle had been defended. As the keep was gutted by fire, and the mancould tell us naught of what had happened after he had been strickendown at the breach, we knew not whether you and your brave garrison hadperished in the flames. We saw the penthouse beneath which they hadlabored to cut through the wall, but the work had ceased before theholes were large enough for entry, and we hoped that you might have seenthat further resistance was in vain, and have made terms for your lives;indeed we heard from the country people that certain
prisoners had beentaken to Amiens. I rested one day at Pres, and the next rode back here,and forthwith dispatched a herald to the Count of Evreux at Amiensasking for news of the garrison; but now he has returned with word thattwenty-four men-at-arms and fifty-eight archers are prisoners in thecount's hands, and that he is ready to exchange them against an equalnumber of French prisoners; but that you, with a man-at-arms, were inthe keeping of Sir Philip of Holbeaut, with whom I must treat for yourransom. And now tell me how it is that I see you here. Has your captor,confiding in your knightly word to send him the sum agreed upon, allowedyou to return? Tell me the sum and my treasurer shall to-morrow pay itover to a herald, who shall carry it to Holbeaut."
"Thanks, your royal highness, for your generosity," Walter replied, "butthere is no ransom to be paid."
And he then proceeded to narrate the incidents of his captivity atHolbeaut and his escape from the castle. His narration was frequentlyinterrupted by exclamations of surprise and indignation from the princeand the knights present.
"Well, this well-nigh passes all belief," the prince exclaimed when hehad concluded. "It is an outrage upon all laws of chivalry and honor.What could have induced this caitiff knight, instead of treating youwith courtesy and honor until your ransom arrived, to lodge you in afoul dungeon, where, had you not made your escape, your death would havebeen brought about that very night by the rising water? Could it be,think you, that his brain is distraught by some loss or injury which mayhave befallen him at our hands during the war and worked him up to ablind passion of hatred against all Englishmen?"
"I think not that, your royal highness," Walter replied. "His manner wascool and deliberate, and altogether free from any signs of madness.Moreover, it would seem that he had specially marked me down beforehand,since, as I have told you, he had bargained with the Count of Evreux forthe possession of my person should I escape with life at the capture ofthe castle. It seems rather as if he must have had some private enmityagainst me, although what the cause may be I cannot imagine, seeing thatI have never, to my knowledge, before met him, and have only heard hisname by common report."
"Whatever be the cause," the prince said, "we will have satisfaction forit, and I will beg the king, my father, to write at once to Philip ofValois protesting against the treatment that you have received, anddenouncing Sir Philip of Holbeaut as a base and dishonored knight, whom,should he fall into our hands, we will commit at once to the hangman."
Upon the following day Walter was called before the king, and related tohim in full the incidents of the siege and of his captivity and escape;and the same day King Edward sent off a letter to Philip of Valoisdenouncing Sir Philip Holbeaut as a dishonored knight, and threateningretaliation upon the French prisoners in his hands.
A fortnight later an answer was received from the King of France sayingthat he had inquired into the matter, and had sent a seneschal, who hadquestioned Sir Philip Holbeaut and some of the men-at-arms in thecastle, and that he found that King Edward had been grossly imposed uponby a fictitious tale. Sir Walter Somers had, he found, been treated withall knightly courtesy, and believing him to be an honorable knight andtrue to his word, but slight watch had been kept over him. He had baselytaken advantage of this trust, and with the man-at-arms with him hadescaped from the castle in order to avoid payment of his ransom, and hadnow invented these gross and wicked charges against Sir Philip Holbeautas a cloak to his own dishonor.
Walter was furious when he heard the contents of this letter, and theking and Black Prince were no less indignant. Although they doubted himnot for a moment, Walter begged that Ralph might be brought before themand examined strictly as to what had taken place, in order that theymight see that his statements tallied exactly with those he had made.
When this had been done Walter obtained permission from the king todispatch a cartel to Sir Philip de Holbeaut denouncing him as a perjuredand dishonored knight and challenging him to meet him in mortal conflictat any time and place that he might name. At the same time the kingdispatched a letter to Philip of Valois saying that the statements ofthe French knight and his followers were wholly untrue, and begging thata time might be appointed for the meeting of the two knights in thelists.
To this King Philip replied that he had ordered all private quarrels inFrance to be laid aside during the progress of the war, and that so longas an English foot remained upon French soil he would give nocountenance to his knights throwing away the lives which they owed toFrance in private broils.
"You must wait, Sir Walter, you see," the king said, "until you mayperchance meet him in the field of battle. In the mean time, to show howlightly I esteem the foul charge brought against you, and how much Ihold and honor the bravery which you showed in defending the castlewhich my son the prince intrusted to you, as well as upon otheroccasions, I hereby promote you to the rank of knight banneret."
Events now passed slowly before Calais. Queen Philippa and many of herladies crossed the Channel and joined her husband, and these added muchto the gayety of the life in camp. The garrison at Calais was, it wasknown, in the sorest straits for the want of food, and at last the newscame that the King of France, with a huge army of two hundred thousandmen, was moving to its relief. They had gathered at Hesdin, at whichrendezvous the king had arrived in the early part of April; but it wasnot until the 27th of July that the whole army was collected, andmarching by slow steps advanced toward the English position.
King Edward had taken every precaution to guard all the approaches tothe city. The ground was in most places too soft and sandy to admit ofthe construction of defensive works; but the fleet was drawn up closeinshore to cover the line of sand-hills by the sea with arrows and warmachines, while the passages of the marshes, which extended for aconsiderable distance round the town, were guarded by the Earl ofLancaster and a body of chosen troops, while the other approaches to thecity were covered by the English camp.
The French reconnoitering parties found no way open to attack theEnglish unless under grievous disadvantages. The Cardinals of Tusculum,St. John, and St. Paul endeavored to negotiate terms of peace, andcommissioners on both sides met. The terms offered by Philip were,however, by no means so favorable as Edward, after his own victoriousoperations and those of his armies in Brittany and Guienne, had a rightto expect, and the negotiations were broken off.
The following day the French king sent in a message to Edward sayingthat he had examined the ground in every direction in order to advanceand give battle, but had found no means of doing so. He thereforesummoned the king to come forth from the marshy ground in which he wasencamped and to fight in the open plain; and he offered to send fourFrench knights, who, with four English of the same rank, should choose afair plain in the neighborhood, according to the usages of chivalry.Edward had little over thirty thousand men with him; but the sameevening that Philip's challenge was received a body of seventeenthousand Flemings and English, detached from an army which had beendoing good service on the borders of Flanders, succeeded in passinground the enemy's host and in effecting a junction with the king's army.Early the next morning, after having consulted with his officers, Edwardreturned an answer to the French king, saying that he agreed to hisproposal, and inclosed a safe-conduct for any four French knights whomight be appointed to arrange with the same number of English the placeof battle.
The odds were indeed enormous, the French being four to one; but Edward,after the success of Cressy, which had been won by the Black Prince'sdivision, which bore a still smaller proportion to the force engagingit, might well feel confident in the valor of his troops. His envoys, onarriving at the French camp, found that Philip had apparently changedhis mind. He declined to discuss the matter with which they werecharged, and spoke only of the terms upon which Edward would be willingto raise the siege of Calais. As they had no authority on this subjectthe English knights returned to their camp, where the news was receivedwith great disappointment, so confident did all feel in their power todefeat the huge host of the French. But even
greater was theastonishment the next morning, when, before daylight, the tents of theFrench were seen in one great flame, and it was found that the king andall his host were retreating at full speed. The Earls of Lancaster andNorthampton, with a large body of horse, at once started in pursuit, andharassed the retreating army on its march toward Amiens.
No satisfactory reasons ever have been assigned for this extraordinarystep on the part of the French king. He had been for months engaged incollecting a huge army, and he had now an opportunity of fighting theEnglish in a fair field with a force four times as great as their own.The only means indeed of accounting for his conduct is by supposing himaffected by temporary aberration of mind, which many other facts in hishistory render not improbable. The fits of rage so frequently recordedof him border upon madness, and a number of strange actions highlydetrimental to his own interests which he committed can only beaccounted for as the acts of a diseased mind. This view has been to someextent confirmed by the fact that less than half a century afterwardinsanity declared itself among his descendants.
A few hours after the departure of the French the French standard waslowered on the walls of Calais, and news was brought to Edward that thegovernor was upon the battlements and desired to speak with someofficers of the besieging army. Sir Walter Manny and Lord Bisset weresent to confer with him, and found that his object was to obtain thebest terms he could. The English knights, knowing the determination ofthe king on the subject, were forced to tell him that no possibilityexisted of conditions being granted, but that the king demanded theirunconditional surrender, reserving to himself entirely the right whom topardon and whom to put to death.
The governor remonstrated on the severe terms, and said that rather thansubmit to them he and his soldiers would sally out and die sword inhand. Sir Walter Manny found the king inexorable. The strict laws of warin those days justified the barbarous practice of putting to death thegarrison of a town captured under such circumstances. Calais had beenfor many years a nest of pirates, and vessels issuing from its port hadbeen a scourge to the commerce of England and Flanders, and the king wasfully determined to punish it severely. Sir Walter Manny interceded longand boldly, and represented to the king that none of his soldiers wouldwillingly defend a town on his behalf from the day on which he put todeath the people of Calais, as beyond doubt the French would retaliatein every succeeding siege. The other nobles and knights joined theirentreaties to those of Sir Walter Manny, and the king finally consentedto yield in some degree. He demanded that six of the most notableburghers of the town, with bare heads and feet, and with ropes abouttheir necks and the keys of the fortress in their hands, should deliverthemselves up for execution. On these conditions he agreed to spare therest. With these terms Sir Walter Manny returned to Sir John of Vienne.
The governor left the battlements, and proceeding to the market-placeordered the bell to be rung. The famished and despairing citizensgathered, a haggard crowd, to hear their doom. A silence followed thenarration of the hard conditions of surrender by the governor, and sobsand cries alone broke the silence which succeeded. Then Eustace St.Pierre, the wealthiest and most distinguished of the citizens, cameforward and offered himself as one of the victims, saying, "Sad pity andshame would it be to let all of our fellow-citizens die of famine or thesword when means could be found to save them." John of Aire, James andPeter de Vissant, and another whose name has not come down to us,followed his example, and stripping to their shirts set out for thecamp, Sir John of Vienne, who, from a late wound, was unable to walk,riding at their head on horseback. The whole population accompanied themweeping bitterly until they came to the place where Sir Walter Manny wasawaiting them. Here the crowd halted, and the knight, promising to dohis best to save them, led them to the tent where the king hadassembled all his nobles around him. When the tidings came that theburghers of Calais had arrived, Edward issued out with his retinue,accompanied by Queen Philippa and the Black Prince.
"Behold, sire," Sir Walter Manny said, "the representatives of the townof Calais!"
The king made no reply while John of Vienne surrendered his sword and,kneeling with the burghers, said: "Gentle lord and king, behold, we six,who were once the greatest citizens and merchants of Calais, bring youthe keys of the town and castle, and give ourselves up to your pleasure,placing ourselves in the state in which you see us by our own free willto save the rest of the people of the city, who have already sufferedmany ills. We pray you, therefore, to have pity and mercy upon us forthe sake of your high nobleness."
All present were greatly affected at this speech, and at the aspect ofmen who thus offered their lives for their fellow-citizens. The king'scountenance alone remained unchanged, and he ordered them to be taken toinstant execution. Then Sir Walter Manny and all the nobles with tearsbesought the king to have mercy, not only for the sake of the citizens,but for that of his own fame, which would be tarnished by so cruel adeed.
"Silence, Sir Walter!" cried the king. "Let the executioner be called.The men of Calais have put to death so many of my subjects that I willalso put these men to death."
At this moment Queen Philippa, who had been weeping bitterly, castherself upon her knees before the king. "Oh, gentle lord," she cried,"since I have repassed the seas to see you I have neither asked norrequired anything at your hand; now, then, I pray you humbly, andrequire as a boon, that for the sake of the Son of Mary, and for love ofme, you take these men to mercy."
The king stood for a moment in silence, and then said:
"Ah! lady, I would that you had been otherwhere than here; but you begof me so earnestly I must not refuse you, though I grant your prayerwith pain. I give them to you; take them, and do your will."
Then the queen rose from her knees, and bidding the burghers rise, shecaused clothing and food to be given them, and sent them away free.
Sir Walter Manny, with a considerable body of men-at-arms, now tookpossession of the town of Calais. The anger of the king soon gave way tobetter feelings; all the citizens, without exception, were fed by hisbounty. Such of them as preferred to depart instead of swearing fealtyto the English monarch were allowed to carry away what effects theycould bear upon their persons, and were conducted in safety to theFrench town of Guisnes. Eustace de St. Pierre was granted almost all thepossessions he had formerly held in Calais, and also a considerablepension; and he and all who were willing to remain were well and kindlytreated. The number was large, for the natural indignation which theyfelt at their base desertion by the French king induced very many of thecitizens to remain and become subjects of Edward. The king issued aproclamation inviting English traders and others to come across and takeup their residence in Calais, bestowing upon them the houses and landsof the French who had left. Very many accepted the invitation, andCalais henceforth and for some centuries became virtually an Englishtown.
A truce was now, through the exertions of the pope's legates, madebetween England and France, the terms agreed on being very similar tothose of the previous treaty; and when all his arrangements werefinished Edward returned with his queen to England, having been absenteighteen months, during which time an almost unbroken success hadattended his arms, and the English name had reached a position ofrespect and honor in the eyes of Europe far beyond that at which itpreviously stood.
