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

by David Ker

  CHAPTER XXX

  A Village Festival

  "Dickon, take that long body of thine out of the way, and let us pass!Think'st thou, Long-shanks, we have need of a Maypole in September?"

  "Stint thy prate, Master Lack-beard. Think'st thou we need a newclapper to our church bell, that thou set'st thy twopenny clapperwagging so?"

  "Ha, pretty Gillian! ever sweet and blooming as a rose!"

  "As a tuft of marsh-grass, thou mean'st, Gaffer Thickset, else wouldnot a fat goose admire me thus."

  "How now, Hal? What, man, thou art gay as a courtier whose tailor hathgiven him long credit! With all these bright ribbons and gauds on thee,thou'lt dazzle our eyes!"

  "If thine be dazzled, Gaffer Green, it is with looking at thine ownfoolish face in a duck-pond, or mayhap with a pot of strong ale drainedat another man's cost."

  These and other scraps of rough wit flew thick and fast amid the crowdgathered on the village green of the little hamlet of Deerham, which,as usual, had grown up under the protection of the great feudal castleheld by the lord of the manor himself.

  A gay and goodly picture was that blithe crowd of merry-makers in thebright autumn sunshine--one of those pictures that half redeemed thegloom of that iron age, and made many who ought to have known bettermistake the so-called "good old times" for an age of gold, instead of ariot of useless bloodshed, reckless waste, cruel oppression, brutalignorance, and grinding misery.

  In the centre of the green a dozen "morrice-dancers," with tiny bellshung to every part of their fantastic garb, were keeping up a constantjangling aptly compared by a local wag to the tongue of Dame CicelyPrate, a noted scold, who looked daggers at him in return. On theright, a juggler was swallowing ribbons by the yard, or breathing outfire and smoke, to the amazement of the gaping clowns who jostledaround him. On the left, a strolling minstrel was singing the old comicballad of "The Felon Sow," the success of which was shown by the loudlaughter that greeted every verse, and the shower of copper coins thatclinked ceaselessly into his well-worn green cap.

  A little farther off, a quack was vaunting a new and potent medicine,as able to "cure all ills, from a smoky chimney to a scolding wife."Just beyond him, a pretended pilgrim was selling as relics from theHoly Land some rusty nails and pot-sherds picked up at the nextvillage, while a huge brown dancing-bear, led by a swarthy, gipsy-likeman in a slouched hat, was performing some clumsy antics hard by, tothe mingled delight and terror of the shock-headed village boys. In thebackground, a big fire was blazing, and preparations were being made toroast an ox whole, without which, in those days, no Englishmerry-making could go off properly.

  Every moment swelled the noise and bustle, as new arrivals joined thethrong. Ruddy, stalwart farmers in holiday garb, on horses as broad andsturdy as themselves, with their buxom dames perched behind them;hard-faced, bare-armed workmen in leather jerkins, from the town ofWinchester; rosy village lasses in short skirts and broad hats,be-ribboned in all the colours of the rainbow; threadbare students fromOxford and Cambridge, begging their way (according to the strangecustom of the age) from one market-town to another; bare-footed friarsin their long, dark robes; tanned, round-shouldered peasants in coarsewoollen jackets or rough frocks of grey frieze, with the mud of theHampshire lowlands clinging to their heavy, clouted shoes; and war-wornsoldiers in dinted steel caps and frayed buff coats, just home from theFrench wars, watching the scene with an air of grand, indulgentcontempt, like men who had already seen everything worth seeing.

  All at once there was a cry that the lords of the castle were comingdown to watch the sports, and this news broke up the most popularexhibition of the day--the rescue of Princess Sabra from the dragon bySt. George, who, with an iron pan for a helmet, and a spit for a spear,made quite as queer a figure as the monster itself, while the princess,represented by a freckled, red-haired boy of twelve, did small justiceto the praises of her beauty in old romances. But at the first glimpseof the two stately forms that came riding slowly down the steep,winding path from Claremont Castle, dragon, princess, and champion werealike forgotten, and all heads turned at once toward Sir Alured and histwin-brother Sir Hugo.

  The ten years that had passed over those two handsome faces since thatmorning on the ramparts of conquered Tormas, had touched both verylightly; and they received with a frank, hearty smile the boisterouswelcome of the crowd, which greeted them not only with shouts andthrowing-up of caps, but also with a universal and evidently sincerebrightening of faces, very pleasant to see.

  In truth, the two brave men had well earned it. The lull in theage-long duel between France and England caused by the truce of 1358,and the treaty of Bretigny two years later, had enabled them to makegood their vow of dwelling henceforth on their own lands, and caringfor their long-neglected tenantry, as they had done, and were stilldoing, with all their heart and soul.

  "God bless 'em both!" cried a sturdy yeoman, warmly. "When my fatherlay a-dying, Sir Alured was at his bedside as soon as either priest orphysician."

  "And when my child was sick," added a woman's voice, "scarce could Itell the tale to Sir Hugo as he passed, when lo! away he flew toWinchester town as if riding for his life--ay, he went his ownself--and brought back the most skilled leech in the town, who saved mylittle lass's life."

  "And when yon great storm tore down our cottage, and left me and mineno place to lay our heads, who came first to our aid?--Why, who but ouryoung lords themselves? They housed us in their own castle, no less;and they sent men to build up our dwelling again, better than before;and all at their own cost, lads! God bless them for it!"

  "Amen! for whereas many knights and barons do but wring from theirvassals what little they have, to maintain their own state, have notour lords given up all the wealth they won in the French wars, to keepus in peace and comfort? May God repay them a thousand-fold! Would SirSimon Harcourt, had he lived, have done the like? I trow not! He wouldhave stripped us as bare as a beech in December. Long life to the goodlords of Claremont!"

  Such speeches came ceaselessly to the ears of the twins, as they tooktheir places on a raised seat at the end of the green; and their noblefaces grew radiant with joy.

  "Are we not well repaid, Alured, for all the storms and sorrows offormer years?"

  "That are we indeed, Hugo; and now we lack but one thing to completeour happiness--that our good friend Du Guesclin were here to share it."

  "Right, brother. Truly I owe him much, for, but for him, we two hadnever met again."

  "And I," said Alured, "owe him yet more--mine own life, and it may bemine own soul likewise. I would we had some tidings of the good knight;we have heard nought since yon wandering minstrel brought word, twoyears agone, how he was made prisoner at Auray by old John Chandos, andhow, when it was noised abroad that he was taken, every old wife inBrittany spun a double portion daily, that she might in some sort aidto pay his ransom."

  "God keep him, wherever he be. But see, the archery is about to begin."

  It was, and the brothers had seldom seen better practice, even amongthe Moorish bowmen of Spain; for in those days every English yeoman wasa crack shot, and had often to aim at other marks than a harmlesstarget. More than one of those present had seen the glittering chivalryof France fall like autumn leaves before their arrows on the fatalfield of Crecy, and King John the Good led captive by English archersamid the heaped-up slain of Poitiers; and the best competitors were soevenly matched, that even the two practised warriors who adjudged theprize took some time to decide.

  "May Old England's grey-goose shafts ever fly as strongly and truly!"said Alured, as he handed the prize to the winner.

  "And may they be ever loosed by hands as deft and loyal!" added Hugo.

  Next came the leaping, in which two local athletes ran each other soclose that the match seemed a drawn one; but in the last trial, one ofthe two just touched the bar with his toes, and came down on his facewith such a whack that Gaffer Green said with an unfeeling chuck
le--

  "He've took after his own pigs, he have; he be a-rooting up the earthwith his nose!"

  The winner was young Will Wade, who had been one of the loudest inpraise of his young lords; and Will made so good a start for thefoot-race (which came next) that he seemed likely to win that too. Butjust when close to the goal, he glanced aside a moment at the prettyface of his betrothed, Gillian Gray, who was watching him breathlessly;and in that moment his foot slipped, and down he came!

  He was up again at once, but too late. The next man had reached thegoal, and poor Will was but second-best!

  "Vex not thyself for that, lad," said Sir Hugo, kindly; "it was but anill chance. Hadst thou been chasing the foes of our king and OldEngland, I warrant thy foot would have been steady enow; and thou hastshown how quickly a true Englishman can start up from a fall."

  "On that matter your worships should be well able to judge," said theyoung athlete, bluntly, as he pouched the two gold pieces handed him byway of consolation, "being yourselves as true Englishmen as everbreathed!"

  "Hear'st thou that, Hugo?" laughed Alured. "Times are changed,methinks, since our great-grandsire was wont to say, as the worstpenalty he could invoke on his own head, 'May I become an Englishman!'"

  In hurling the bar, the best man was the brawny village smith, whoreceived the prize from Alured's own hand, with a kind word that hevalued even more; and now but two "events" remained--thesword-and-buckler play, and the wrestling.

  Just then the twins' keen eyes took note of two tall, sturdy men inhalf-armour, who had pushed their way forward with small ceremony intothe front rank of the crowd.

  Both wore the silver spurs of esquires, but their behaviour did not atall befit their rank; for they seemed bent on showing their contemptfor the sports and all connected with them as offensively as possible.At first they were content with scornful looks and muttered words ofdisdain; but when the sword-play commenced, the self-constitutedcritics began to utter their sneers aloud, so insolently that had notthe lords of the manor been present, the sturdy villagers would soonhave made these swaggerers change their tune.

  "Did I not tell thee so, Gilbert?" cried the taller of the two. "Thisis what comes of rusting at home, and seeing nought of the world.Belike these yokels think they are very St. Georges; but we could teachthem another tale."

  "Thou art right, Humphrey. Cared we to cumber us with such gear, I trowwe could give them a wholesome lesson, had the thick-skulled churls butthe wit to profit by it!"

  This was too much for young Will Wade, who, having just won thesword-and-buckler contest, turned short round, and said hotly--

  "With your tongues ye are doughty champions, in truth; but if ye wouldtry other weapons, come on!"

  "And I," cried the stout smith (victor in the wrestling-match), "willgladly try a fall with these big talkers, and let 'em feel how asmith's vice can pinch!"

  Gilbert, with a scornful laugh, threw off his upper garment, and closedwith the smith; and Humphrey, furnished with sword and buckler, facedWill Wade.

  This time the village champions had met their match. Brave Will stoodto it as stoutly as man could do, but he had no chance with one whosesword had been daily in his hand for years, and who added to this longpractice the coolness learned in actual battle. The bout ended in hisutter defeat; and at the same moment Ned Smith (who, with all hisstrength, was no match for his opponent's cool science) was sentsprawling by a dexterous back-trip.

  "Now," cried Humphrey, boastfully, "I will stake the prize I have won,and five gold nobles to boot, if any man here will try a bout with me.Who takes my proffer?"

  "With good St. George's aid, that do I!" said a calm voice behind him;and Sir Alured himself rose and stepped down into the ring.

  The downcast faces all brightened at once, and a shout rent the air;for it was the firm belief of all Deerham village that there was nofeat at which "the good lords of Claremont" were not a match for anyman living; and the villagers were as confident of seeing these bullieshumbled, as if both were conquered already.

  Even the vaunting Humphrey felt a momentary chill, which (as usual withsuch base natures) he strove to cover with extra insolence.

  "Gramercy for thy condescension, my good lord," cried he, mockingly;"it is but too much honour for a poor esquire like me!"

  "It is too much honour for thee!" said Alured, sternly, "not becausethou art a poor esquire, but because thou art a malapert andill-mannered cub. Look well to thyself, for thou hast deserved nomercy!"

  Taking up the sword and buckler used by Wade (who flushed with pleasureat the implied compliment), the knight faced the esquire.

  Humphrey was no mean swordsman; but he had to do with one who hadovercome the flashing strokes of Moorish scimitars wielded by the bestwarriors of Grenada. Slash and hew as he might, he could find noopening: some of his blows were wasted on the air, and others parriedwith a force that made his arm tingle to the shoulder.

  Thrice did he dash at his foe, and thrice was he driven back, foiledand panting; and at every repulse the cheers of the lookers-on grewlouder and more joyous, till the hot-headed challenger lost his temperoutright.

  All at once Alured attacked in turn, enveloping the bewildered bully ina whirlwind of blows against which no guard could avail. Two crushingstrokes beat down his buckler, and a wrench that seemed almost to twisthis sword-arm out of joint sent his blade flying half across the ring,and he stood defenceless, while a roar of delight hailed hisdiscomfiture.

  "Holy father," said Alured, handing the gold he had won to a goodpriest in the crowd, "take this for thy poor; for, if gotten from anill source, the more cause is there to apply it to good."

  Just then Sir Hugo said quietly, "Enough, brother; it is now my turn.If this other gallant, who is so keen to instruct us poor ignorantcountry-folk, will graciously teach me to wrestle a fall, I am ready."

  The general laugh that greeted this well-merited sarcasm swept awaywhat little patience Gilbert had. His comrade's defeat had somewhatstartled him; but, at sight of the challenger's slender frame, hisnative insolence revived.

  "Loth were I," he sneered, "to soil your worship's gay clothes withdust."

  "If thou canst so soil them, I give thee full leave," retorted Hugo,with a cutting emphasis that drew a fresh laugh from the admiring crowd.

  Without a word more on either side the two men grappled.

  Gilbert was a strong and skilful wrestler; but he was no match for onewho had overthrown the best wrestler in Morocco. Slight as he seemedbeside the bulky esquire, Hugo's sinews had been toughened by athousand struggles and hardships, and his skill had never met its match.

  In vain did Gilbert try every trip and fall he knew; in vain did hecompress the light form in his strong arms, as if to crush it by mainforce; in vain did he swing Hugo off his feet again and again, and putforth his full strength to dash him to the earth. Do what he would, theknight stood firm as ever; and at last Gilbert paused, fairly spentwith his own exertions.

  Then the scores of watching eyes saw Hugo's arms tighten suddenly, andhis foe's huge broad back bend slowly in. So quietly was it done, thatfew guessed what strength was put forth to do it; but all at once (noone could see how) the big man's feet flew from under him, and down hewent on his back with stunning force.

  Then broke forth a cheer that shook the air; for, apart from JohnBull's natural pleasure at seeing a bully "taken down," the chivalrousfrankness with which the twin nobles had waived the privileges of theirrank to meet such formidable foes was what the roughest peasant couldappreciate.

  The crestfallen boasters were glad to slink away, not without fears offurther rough handling; and, in fact, had either of the Claremontbrothers but held up his finger, the crowd would have broken the headsof both swaggerers on the spot, or even (for men did not stick attrifles in those days) pitched them neck-and-crop into the river. Butsorrow and suffering had taught the two brave men a lesson of mercy,and the bullies were allowed to sneak off unharmed.

  Hardly were they gone, wh
en a trumpet-blast awoke all the echoes of thehills, and a single rider, in the rich livery of the king's household,came dashing up to the spot, and, putting into Alured's hand a big,important-looking letter, encircled with a silk thread and sealed withthe royal seal, clattered away as quickly as he had come.

  "Brother," said Alured, "my mind misgives me that this means war, ofwhich we have had enow already. God's will be done!"

  He guessed but too truly. It was a summons from "Edward, by the graceof God Prince of Wales and Aquitaine, to his trusty and well-belovedliegemen, Sir Alured and Sir Hugo de Claremont," to meet him atBordeaux before Christmas with as many men as they could muster, tojoin the army he was leading into Spain, to restore to the dethronedking, Pedro of Castile, the crown wrested from him by his half-brother,Henry of Transtamare.

  To such a summons there could be but one answer; and, in as few days assufficed to muster and equip their followers, the twin nobles, withheavy hearts at the thought of how few of the brave fellows around themwould ever see their homes again, were on their way to the mostshameful and disastrous victory won by England during the whole of theHundred Years' War.