Under the Flag of France: A Tale of Bertrand du Guesclin

by David Ker

  CHAPTER XXIII

  Possessed Swine

  A feat like the capture of Fougeray Castle would have been enough formost men; but it could not satisfy Du Guesclin, to whom it was but thefirst step in the achievement of a far more daring design--nothing lessthan the defeat of the whole English army then besieging Rennes for thesecond time.

  This would have seemed hopeless to any man but himself; for that armywas one of the finest that England had ever sent forth, and led by theformidable Duke of Lancaster, a leader worthy of his father, EdwardIII. But the Breton hero's chivalrous spirit was stirred to its inmostdepths by the peril of the beloved city where he had made his firstessay in arms, and had received at the altar the hand of his beautifulbride; and he vowed that, come what might, it should not lack a helperin its need.

  The stormy sunset was casting a red and angry glare on the darkramparts of Rennes, on the evening after the capture of Fougeray, andthe stout English beleaguerers were gathered round their camp-firesover a very scanty supper, for by this time the besiegers were almostas much straitened as the besieged. Like true Englishmen, they weregrumbling unstintedly at the cold and short commons; but, like trueEnglishmen, they were ready to face all this, and more, in the courseof their duty.

  One group, which lay nearest the town, seemed blither than the rest;for the music of a rollicking ballad came from the centre of the ring,and frequent bursts of laughter applauded the performance of anorth-country minstrel, who was singing to his little three-stringedlute the old ballad of "Adam Bell and Clym of the Clough," which,celebrating as it did the exploits of three English bowmen, was alwaysa favourite with the sturdy archers of Old England.

  The singer had got well on with the third "fytte" (part) of his song,and had just reached the point where Adam and Clym, and theirfellow-outlaw, William of Cloudeslee, go to the king to ask pardon forhaving "slain his fallow-deer" (wisely saying nothing of their greatermisdeeds) and the king--who was at first for hanging them on thespot--pardons them at the queen's entreaty, and even invites them todine with him--

  "They had not sitten but a while Certain without leasing (lying), When there came messengers from the north With letters to our king.

  "And when they came before the king, They kneeled down on their knee, And said, 'Sir, your officers greet you well From Carlisle in the north countree.'

  "'How fares my justice?' said our king, 'And my sheriff also?' 'Sir, they be slain without leasing, And many an officer mo' (more).

  "'Who hath them slain?' said then our king. 'Anon that tell thou me.' 'Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough, And William of Cloudeslee.'

  "'Alas for ruth,' said then our king, 'My heart is wondrous sore; I had rather than a thousand pound I had known of this before!

  "'For I have granted them my grace, And that forthinketh (repenteth) me; But had I known all this before, They had been hanged all three.'

  "The king he opened the letter anon, Himself he read it tho (then) And he found how these three outlaws had slain Three hundred men and mo'.

  "First the justice, and the sheriff, And the mayor of Carlisle town Of all the constables and catchipolls Alive were left not one.

  "The bailiffs and the beadles too, And sergeants of the law, And forty foresters of the fee These outlaws had y-slaw (slain)

  "And broke his parks, and slain his deer, Over all they chose the best; So perilous outlaws as they were Walked not by east nor west.

  "When as our king this letter had read, In heart he sighed full sore; 'Take up the table,' anon he bade, 'For now I may eat no more.'"

  Just at this point (though many of the listeners knew the song as wellas the minstrel himself) the growing laughter swelled into afull-mouthed, side-shaking roar that made the air ring. As it diedaway, a big spearman called out to the singer--

  "Stand to it, Ralph! Here comes one of these French minstrels to have about with thee. At him boldly, for the honour of Old England!"

  Into the circle of light cast by the fire came a thin, small, ratherflighty-looking man in minstrel garb, with a lute slung at his back,beside whom stalked a huge form, a full head and shoulders taller, witha shaggy black beard, and clothes so tattered and grimed as to suggesta charcoal-burner's shirt.

  "What ho, friends! who are ye? The Wandering Jew and his brother, withthe dust of ages on your clothes?" cried a big archer, winking to hiscomrades to watch how he would "chaff" the new-comers.

  "Thou hast guessed it, good sir," said the smaller man in French, withan impish grin; "we are, indeed, the Wandering Jew and his brother,who----Ha! what see I? that face--those eyes----Brother, brother! ourweary penance is ended at last!"

  And, throwing his arms round the bantering archer's neck, he uttered aseries of joyful howls worthy of a scalded cat.

  "How now? what means this?" sputtered the astounded archer, strugglingin vain to free himself from his new friend's embrace, while the restgathered round, laughing loudly both at the heavy, ox-like bewildermentof the assailed man, and the monkeyish grimaces of the assailant.

  "It was foretold to me a thousand years ago," cried the latter,rapturously, "that my weary wanderings should end, whenever I couldfind a greater fool than myself, and, the saints be praised, I havefound him!"

  This retort (which most of them knew French enough to understand) wasreceived with a louder roar than ever, these thorough John Bulls beingever ready to enjoy a good hard hit, whether in words or blows; andthey hastened to throw themselves between the rash joker and theiraggrieved comrade, who, clenching a fist like a shoulder of mutton,seemed about to avenge himself on the spot.

  "Nay, nay, Sim--fair play, lad! The first blow was thine, and he hathbut hit thee back. See'st thou not he is a jester? and such are everprivileged men. And who art thou, friend?" said the speaker to thejester's tall comrade. "Art thou come to join our ranks? Speak out ifthou be a true man, though in truth thou look'st more like a thief!"

  "The worse luck mine," said the black-bearded giant, with a hoarselaugh, "for ye English let no thieves thrive here but yourselves!"

  The wit was just suited to the audience, and another loud laugh brokeout, amid which the giant added coolly--

  "If ye would know who I am, my name is Wolf, and I can bite!"

  "Say'st thou so, Master Wolf?" cried a big man-at-arms, holding up hisheavy spear. "Thou talk'st big, but can thy teeth crush a bone likethat?"

  The giant seized the strong shaft, and with one jerk of his mightyhands broke it like a biscuit.

  "Not ill done for an outlander!" cried another man, patronizingly; forJohn Bull in the fourteenth century was even more John Bullish thannow. "Hast a mind to join us, comrade? Thou wouldst be a right stalwartrecruit."

  "Of that hereafter," said the Black Wolf (for it was indeed he), "butfirst I would tell your general some news that I have learned of thedoings of Bertrand du Guesclin."

  "Ha! know'st thou aught of him?" cried a dozen voices at once. "What isthy news, then? Let us hear."

  "Now, comrades, is this fair?" said the Wolf, in an injured tone. "If Ibe the first to bring news to your general, belike he will reward mewell; but if a score of others know it already, what profit have I?"

  "Thou wast not born yesterday, lad," said a tall archer, chuckling,"and if it be as thou say'st, I had best go call our captain, andreport the matter to him."

  As he tramped off, the jester said with a majestic air--

  "I too will join your host, good
fellows, and myself lead ye to battle.Ye have all heard of me; my name is Roland."

  "What? the greatest of Charlemagne's Paladins?" cried a soldier,laughing. "Welcome to our camp, mighty champion; with thee among us, wehave nought to fear!"

  "Sing us the 'Song of Roland,' if thou be he," said another man, in atone betwixt jest and earnest. "I heard it once from an old harper ofGascony, and, St. George be my speed! it stirred my blood like atrumpet!"

  The jester at once struck up what was undoubtedly the Song of Roland inone sense, for it was his own composition, and certainly bore everymark of originality--

  "My old grey mare made friends with a bear, And together they went a-dancing, But out came a snail, and their courage did fail, When they saw the monster advancing.

  "The miller-loon flew up to the moon, So strong the wind was blowing; The tailor brave jumped into a grave When he heard a cock a-crowing.

  "The butterfly gave the ox a stab That leech-craft could not cure, sirs; The robin he wept sore for a flea Who died of biting a Moor, sirs!

  "The man of the north went sailing forth To find in the sea some forage; The man of the south he burned his mouth With eating frozen porridge!"

  "Callest thou that the 'Song of Roland'?" said the man who had askedfor it, with a broad grin.

  "Marry, that do I!" cried Roland; for it was indeed Du Guesclin'sadventurous jester, once more in an English camp in disguise. "It isthe self-same song, as sung on the field of Hastings in the days of thegreat Duke William, by his good knight Taillefer, when we French wentover and beat you English as flat as your own dough-cakes!"

  This joke was less successful than his former ones. The rough soldiersbent their brows ominously, and muttered that their bow-strings werewell fitted to scourge the malapertness out of a prating fool. But justthen, luckily for poor Roland, their captain came up, and bade thenew-comers follow him.

  They were led straight to the Duke of Lancaster's tent, where theofficer bade them wait while he went in to ask the duke's pleasureconcerning them. As they stood waiting, Roland (who, as we have seen,had learned English, though carefully concealing the fact) twisted hisface into a grin of impish glee as he caught the words of an order thatthe duke was giving to one of his officers.

  The next moment he and his comrade stood before the general, in replyto whose questions the Wolf told briefly Du Guesclin's capture ofFougeray and destruction of the English foraging party.

  "And what wert thou doing the while, good fellow?" asked the duke,never dreaming that the man who had just given him so important awarning could be a foe in disguise.

  "Watching for dead men to plunder," said the Wolf, with a franknessthat brought a momentary smile to Lancaster's grave face.

  "Be that as it may," said the duke, "thou hast brought us timelywarning, and it shall not be forgotten. Sir Eustace," added he, to aknight beside him, "see these men well cared for, for they have done usgood service."

  Had he guessed what kind of "service" these men were really doing him,he would have hanged both on the spot; but he was not to know it tilltoo late.

  "Who goes there?" cried a sentry on the gate-tower of Rennes late thatnight.

  "Ar fol goet" (the fool of the forest), said a voice from below.

  A murmur of joyful surprise, only restrained by prudence from swellinginto a shout, greeted this strange password; but to the captain of thegate it came like a reproach, for he was no other than Du Guesclin'scousin, Huon de St. Yvon, and this name (now a signal-word at whichevery Breton heart leaped) had been given to Bertrand long ago byhimself and his dead brothers, in mockery of the boy's habit of roamingthe woods alone.

  "Art thou there, Bertrand?" said he, peering over the wall into thegloom.

  "Nay, noble Sir Huon," replied the jester's familiar voice, "butMessire Bertrand is not far away, and hath sent thee a token, if thouwilt lower a cord to draw it up."

  The token proved to be Bertrand's own signet-ring, stamped with hiscrest of the two-headed eagle, and it secured instant admittance forboth men. Roland was at once summoned to a conference with De Penhoen,the commandant, from which the rough old Breton came forth with such agrin of mischievous glee as was never seen on his iron face before.

  Meanwhile the Wolf was led by St. Yvon into the presence of a richlyclad lady, whose face was so marvellously beautiful, and yet so sweetand saintly, that the fierce man started at the sight of it, and cried--

  "So would our Blessed Lady look were she to come on earth once more. Nomarvel thy lord overcame me in fight, when he had one like thee to prayfor him!"

  Sunrise showed to the wondering garrison a vast herd of wild swine,grunting, squeaking, and jostling, on the wide plain before the town.These had been driven in from the neighbouring woods by order ofLancaster, who, little dreaming that Roland had overheard and betrayedhis plan, counted on the starving defenders making a sally to seizethis tempting prey, and thus laying themselves open to a counter-attackthat might win the town itself.

  But crafty old Penhoen had set a soldier just within the postern-gateabutting on the river, that at this point washed the town wall, and ashe began to pull the tail of a pig that he had with him, the injuredanimal expostulated in a series of squeals that might have been heard amile away. No sooner did the swine outside hear their comrade's cries,than they all went galloping toward the town!

  The English, who had never thought of letting this good meat reallyescape them, stared after the flying herd for a moment in blankbewilderment, and then flew in chase. But their shouting and tramplingonly scared the excited beasts yet more, and in a trice the whole herdhad plunged into the river and were swimming to the postern.

  "They be possessed!" cried an archer, "like yon swine in Holy Writ,whereof good Father John used to tell."

  "Be that tale true, then?" said another. "Sure, even a pig could ne'erbe so foolish as to drown itself for nought!"

  "Why, man, dost thou doubt Holy Writ?"

  "Nay, not I; but since the thing befell so long ago, mayhap the tale benot true."

  "Why, Dickon, thou talk'st like a heretic or a Saracen! Heed well thytongue, for on such matters Holy Church knoweth no jesting. Hark ye,comrade; I will give ye proof of yon tale such as would convince St.Thomas the Doubter himself. When I was but a lad, father bought a pigat Guildford Fair, and bade me lead it home. What doth Gaffer Pig buttwitch the cord out of my hand, and send me sprawling in the dirt? Andthen he upset a child that stood by, and galloped right over an oldwife and her egg-basket, breaking every egg therein, and scared the nagwhereon a gay spark was riding past, whereby the spark gat a fall thatbrake him a rib or twain; and after all these pranks he plunged intothe river and well-nigh drowned himself, even as yon swine are doingnow. Now, lad, if one pig did all that of his own mind, what think ye awhole herd would do with the devil in 'em?"

  Just then this theological discussion was cut short by an unexpectedturn of the adventure.

  As the swimming porkers neared the postern-gate, whence the unseenpig's squeals were still issuing, it was suddenly flung open, and alight portable bridge thrust out, on to which the wild hogs clambered,vanishing through the gate--which was instantly shut on them--beforethe very eyes of the baffled and enraged English, while the jesterbowed gracefully from the ramparts to the exasperated pursuers, andgravely thanked them for supplying the hungry town with food.