In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XV. THE DOUBLE SURRENDER.

  On a burning day in July, nearly a year from the time of their parting,the twin brothers met once more in the camp before Calais, where theyhad parted the previous autumn. Raymond had been long in throwing offthe effect of the severe injuries which had nearly cost him his lifeafter the Battle of Crecy; but thanks to the rest and care that had beenhis in his uncle's house, he had entirely recovered. Though not quite sotall nor so broad-shouldered and muscular as Gaston, who was in truth avery prince amongst men, he was in his own way quite as striking, beingvery tall, and as upright as a dart, slight and graceful, though nolonger attenuated, and above all retaining that peculiar depth andpurity of expression which had long seemed to mark him out somewhat fromhis fellow men, and which had only intensified during the year that hadbanished him from the stirring life of the camp.

  "Why, Brother," said Gaston, as he held the slim white hands in hisvise-like clasp, and gazed hungrily into the face he had last seen sowan and white, "I had scarce dared to hope to see thee again in the campof the King after the evil hap that befell thee here before; but rightglad am I to welcome thee hither before the final act of this greatdrama, for methinks the city cannot long hold out against the faminewithin and our bold soldiers without the walls. Thou hast done well tocome hither to take thy part in the final triumph, and reap thy share ofthe spoil, albeit thou lookest more like a youthful St. George upon achurch window than a veritable knight of flesh and blood, despite thegrip of thy fingers, which is well-nigh as strong as my own."

  "I will gladly take my share in any valorous feat of arms that may beundertaken for the honour of England and of England's King. But I wouldsooner fight with warriors who are not half starved to start with. Saynot men that scarce a dog or a cat remains alive in the city, and thatunless the citizens prey one upon the other, all must shortly perish?"

  "Yea, in very truth that is so; for, as perchance thou hast heard, avessel was sighted leaving Calais harbour but a few short days ago, andbeing hotly pursued, was seen to drop a packet overboard. That packet atebb tide was found tied to an anchor, and being brought to the King andby him opened, was found to contain those very words addressed to theKing of France by the governor of the city, praying him to come speedilyto the rescue of his fortress if he wished to save it from the enemy'shand. Our bold King having first read it, sent it on posthaste to hisbrother of France, crying shame upon him to leave his gallant subjectsthus to perish with hunger. Methinks that message will shame yon laggardmonarch into action. How he has been content to idle away the year, withthe foe besieging the key of his kingdom, I know not. But it is a warmwelcome he shall get if he comes to the relief of Calais. We are asready to receive him here as we were a year ago on the field of Crecy!"

  "Ay, in fair fight with Philip's army would I gladly adventure my lifeagain!" cried Raymond, with kindling eyes; "but there be fighting I havesmall relish for, my Gaston, and I have heard stories of this very siegewhich have wrung my heart to listen to. Was it true, brother, thathundreds of miserable creatures, more than half of them women and littlechildren, were expelled from the city as 'useless mouths,' and left tostarve to death between the city walls and the camp of the English, inwhich plenty has all the winter reigned? Could that be true of ourgallant King and his brave English soldiers?"

  A quick flush dyed Gaston's cheek, but he strove to laugh.

  "Raymond, look not at me with eyes so full of reproach. War is a cruelgame, and in some of its details I like it little better than thou. Butwhat can we soldiers do? Nay, what can even the King do? Listen, andcondemn him not too hastily. Long months ago, soon after thou hadst leftus, the same thing was done. Seventeen hundred persons -- men, women,and children -- were turned out of the town, and the King heard of itand ordered some of them to be brought before him. In answer to hisquestion they told him that they were driven from the city because theycould not fight, and were only consuming the bread, of which there wasnone to spare for useless mouths. They had no place to go to, no food toeat, no hope for the future. Then what does our King do but give themleave to pass through his camp; and not only so, but he orders hissoldiers to feed them well, and start them refreshed on their way; andbefore they went forth, to each of them was given, by the royal order,two sterlings of silver, so that they went forth joyously, blessing theliberality and kindness of the English and England's King. But thou mustsee he could not go on doing these kindly acts if men so took advantageof them. He is the soul of bravery and chivalry, but there must bereasonable limits to all such royal generosity."

  Raymond could have found in his heart to wish that the limit had notbeen quite so quickly reached, and that the hapless women and childrenhad not been left to perish miserably in the sight of the warmth andplenty of the English camp; but he would not say more to damp hisbrother's happiness in their reunion, nor in that almost greater joywith which Roger received him back.

  "In faith," laughed Gaston, "I believe that some of the wizard's artcleaves yet to yon boy, for he has been restless and dreamy and unlikehimself these many days; and when I have asked him what ailed him, hisanswer was ever the same, that he knew you were drawing nigh; and verilyhe has proved right, little as I believed him when he spoke of it."

  Roger had so grown and improved that Raymond would scarce haverecognized in him the pale shrinking boy they had borne out from thehouse of the sorcerer three years before. He had developed rapidly afterthe first year of his new life, when the shackles of his formercaptivity seemed finally broken; but this last year of regular soldier'semployment had produced a more marked change in his outward man thanthose spent in the Brotherhood or at Raymond's side. His figure hadwidened. He carried himself well, and with an air of fearless alertness.He was well trained in martial exercises, and the hot suns of France hadbronzed his cheeks, and given them a healthy glow of life and animation.He still retained much of his boyish beauty, but the dreaminess andfar-away vacancy had almost entirely left his eyes. Now and again theold listening look would creep into them, and he would seem for a fewmoments to be lost to outward impressions; but if recalled at suchmoments from his brief lapse, and questioned as to what he was thinking,it always proved to be of Raymond, not of his old master.

  Once or twice he had told Gaston that his brother was in peril -- ofwhat kind he knew not; and Gaston had wondered if indeed this had beenso. One of these occasions had been just before Christmastide, and thedate being thus fixed in his mind, he asked his brother if he had beenat that time exposed to any peril. Raymond could remember nothing savethe vindictive threat of Peter Sanghurst, and Gaston was scarce disposedto put much faith in words, either good or bad, uttered by such a man asthat.

  And now things began to press towards a climax in this memorable siege.The French King, awakened from his long and inexplicable lethargy by theentreaties of his starving subjects so bravely holding the town for apusillanimous master, and stung by the taunts of the English King, hadmustered an army, and was now marching to the relief of the town. It wasupon the last day of July, when public excitement was running high, andall men were talking and thinking of an approaching battle, that wordwas brought into the camp, and eagerly passed from mouth to mouth, tothe effect that the King of France had despatched certain messengers tohold parley with the royal Edward, and that they were even now beingadmitted to the camp by the bridge of Nieulay -- the only approach toCalais through the marshes on the northeast, which had been closelyguarded by the English throughout the siege.

  "Hasten, Raymond, hasten!" cried Gaston, dashing into the small lodginghe and his brother now shared together. "There be envoys come from theFrench King. The Prince will be with his father to hear their message,and if we but hasten to his side, we may be admitted amongst the numberwho may hear what is spoken on both sides."

  Raymond lost no time in following his brother, both eager to hear andsee all that went on; and they were fortunate enough to find places inthe brilliant muster surrounding the King and his family, as thesereceive
d with all courtesy the ambassador from the French monarch.

  That messenger was none other than the celebrated Eustache deRibeaumont, one of the flower of the French chivalry, to whom, onanother occasion, Edward presented the celebrated chaplet of pearls,with one of the highest compliments that one brave man could giveanother. The boys, and indeed the whole circle of English nobility,looked with admiration at his stately form and handsome face, and thoughto our ears the message with which he came charged sounds infinitelystrange, it raised no smile upon the faces of those who stood around theroyal Edward.

  "Sire," began the messenger, "our liege lord, the King of France, sendsus before you, and would have you know that he is here, and is posted onthe Sandgatte Hill to fight you; but intrenched as you are in this camp,he can see no way of getting at you, and therefore he sends us to you tosay this. He has a great desire to raise the siege of Calais, and savehis good city, but can see no way of doing so whilst you remain here.But if you would come forth from your intrenchments, and appoint somespot where he could meet you in open fight, he would rejoice to do it,and this is the thing we are charged to request of you."

  A shout, led by the Prince of Wales, and taken up by all who stood by,was proof enough how acceptable such a notion was to the ardent spiritsof the camp; for it was not a shout of derision, but one of eagerassent. Indeed, for a moment it seemed as though the King of Englandwere disposed to give a favourable reply to the messenger; but then hepaused, and a different expression crossed his face. He sat lookingthoughtfully upon the ground, whilst breathless silence reigned aroundhim, and then he and the Queen spoke in low tones together for some fewminutes.

  When Edward looked up again his face had changed, and was stern and setin expression.

  "Tell your lord," he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, "that had hewished thus to fight, he should have sent his challenge before. I havebeen near a twelvemonth encamped before this place, and my good peopleof England have been sore pressed to furnish me with munitions for thesiege. The town is now on the point of falling into my hands, and thenwill my good subjects find plunder enough to recompense them for theirlabour and loss. Wherefore tell your lord that where I am there will Istay; and that if he wishes to fight he must attack me in my camp, for Iassuredly have no intention of moving out from it."

  A slight murmur of disappointment arose from the younger and more ardentmembers of the crowd; but the older men saw the force of the King'swords, and knew that it would be madness to throw away all thehardly-earned advantages of those long months just for a piece ofchivalrous bravado. So De Ribeaumont had to ride back to the French campwith Edward's answer; and ere two more days had passed, the astonishingnews was brought to the English lines that Philip had abandoned hiscamp, which was now in flames, and was retreating with his whole army bythe way he had come.

  "Was ever such a craven coward!" cried the Prince, in indignantdisappointment; for all within the English camp had been hoping forbattle, and had been looking to their arms, glad of any incident to varythe long monotony of the siege. "Were I those gallant soldiers in yonfortress, I would serve no longer such a false, treacherous lord. Weremy father but their king, he would not leave them in such dire strait,with an army at his back to fight for him, be the opposing force ahundredfold greater than it is!"

  And indeed it seemed as though the brave but desperate garrison withinthose walls saw that it was hopeless to try to serve such a master. Howbitter must their feelings have been when Philip turned and left them totheir fate may well be imagined. Hopeless and helpless, there wasnothing but surrender before them now; and to make the best termspossible was the only thing that remained for them. The day followingPhilip's dastardly desertion, the signal that the city was ready totreat was hung out, and brave Sir Walter Manny, whose own history andexploits during the campaigns in Brittany and Gascony would alone fill avolume either of history or romance, was sent to confer on this matterwith the governor of the city, the gallant De Vienne, who had beengrievously wounded during the long siege.

  Raymond's sympathies had been deeply stirred by what he had heard andimagined of the sufferings of the citizens, and with the love ofadventure and romance common to those days, he arrayed himself lightlyin a dress that would not betray his nationality, and followed in thelittle train which went with Sir Walter. The conference took placewithout the walls, but near to one of the gates. Raymond did not pressnear to hear what was said, like the bulk of the men on both sides whoaccompanied the leaders, but he passed through the eager crowd and madefor the gate itself, the wicket of which stood open; and so calm andassured was his air, and so deeply were the minds of the porters stirredby anxiety to know the fate of the town, that the youth passed inunheeded and unchallenged, and once within the ramparts he could gowhere he chose and see what he would.

  But what a sight met his eyes! Out into the streets were flocking theinhabitants, all trembling with anxiety to hear their fate. Every turnbrought him to fresh knots of famine-stricken wretches, who had almostlost the wish to live, or any interest in life, till just stirred to afaint and lingering hope by the news that the town was to be surrenderedat last. Gaunt and hollow-eyed men, women little better than skeletons,and children scarce able to trail their feeble bodies along, werecrowding out of the houses and towards the great marketplace, where theassembly to hear the conditions was likeliest to meet. The soldiers, whohad been better cared for than the more useless townsfolk, werespectre-like in all conscience; but the starving children, and thedesperate mothers who could only weep and wring their hands in answer tothe piteous demand for bread, were the beings who most stirred Raymond'sheart as he went his way amongst them.

  Again that sense of horror and shrinking came upon him that he hadexperienced upon the field of Crecy amongst the dying and the dead. Ifwar did indeed entail such ghastly horrors and frightful sufferings,could it be that glorious thing that all men loved to call it?

  Curious glances began to be levelled at him as he passed through thestreets, sometimes pausing to soothe a wailing child, sometimes lendinga hand to assist a tottering woman's steps, and speaking to all in thatgentle voice of his, which with its slightly unfamiliar accent smotestrangely upon the ears of the people. He wore no helmet on his head,and his curly hair floated about his grave saint-like face, catchinggolden lights from the glory of the August sunshine.

  "Is it one of the blessed saints?" asked a little child of his mother,as Raymond paused in passing by to lay a caressing hand upon his head,and speak a soft word of encouragement and hope to the weary mother.

  And the innocent question was taken up and passed from mouth to mouth,till it began to be whispered about that one of the holy saints hadappeared in their midst in the hour of the city's deadly peril. AsRaymond passed on his way, many a knee was bent and many a pleadingvoice asked a blessing; whilst he, feeling still as one who moves in adream, made the sign of the cross from time to time over some kneelingsuppliant without understanding what was said of him or why all eyeswere bent upon him.

  But the great town bell was ringing now to summon the citizens toassemble themselves together to hear the final terms agreed upon for thecapitulation of the city, and all else was forgotten in the overwhelminganxiety of that moment; for none could form a guess what terms would begranted to a town in such sore straits as was theirs. The English Kingcould be generous and merciful, but he could also be stern andimplacable; and the long resistance made by the town was like to havestirred his wrath, as well as the fact that the sea port of Calais haddone more harm to his ships and committed more acts of piracy than anyother port in France.

  Raymond himself had great fears for the fate of the hapless town, andwas as eager as any to hear what had been decreed.

  "Sure if the King could see the famished gathering here his heart wouldrelent," murmured the youth to himself, as he looked round at the sea ofwan faces gathered in the open square.

  But the grave and sorrowful expression upon the governor's face toldthat he had no very happy tid
ings to impart. He stood upon a flight ofsteps where all men could well behold him, and in the dead silence thatfell upon the multitude every word spoken could be distinctly beard.

  "My friends," he said, in grave, mournful accents, "I come to you withnews of the only terms of capitulation that I have been able to win fromEngland's King. I myself offered to capitulate if he would permit allwithin the walls to depart unharmed, whilst his demand was forunconditional surrender. The brave knight who came forth to confer withme went back more than once to strive to win for us better terms, andhis intercession was thus far successful. The King will take the rest ofthe citizens to mercy if six of their chief burgesses be given up to hisvengeance, and appear before him bareheaded and barefooted, with haltersabout their necks and the keys of the city in their hands. For suchthere will be no mercy. Brave Sir Walter Manny, who bore hack thismessage with so sorrowful a countenance, bid me not hope that the livesof these men would be spared. He said he saw the fierce sparkle inEdward's eyes as he added, grinding his teeth, 'On them will I do mywill.' Wherefore, my good friends, we are this day in a great strait,and I would that I might myself give up my life to save the town; butthe King's command is that it shall be six of the burgesses, and it isfor you and them to say if these hard conditions shall be accepted."

  The deepest silence had hitherto prevailed in that vast place, but nowit was broken by the weeping and wailing of a great multitude. Raymond'sthroat swelled and his eyes glistened as he looked around upon that seaof starving faces, and tried to realize all that this message must meanto them. If his own life could have paid the ransom, he would have laidit down that moment for these miserable weeping beings; but he washelpless as the brave governor, and could only stand and see the end ofthe drama.

  Slowly up the steps of the marketplace, where stood the governor of thecity, advanced a fine-looking man in the prime of life, and a hushedmurmur ran through the crowd, in which Raymond caught the name ofEustache de St. Pierre. This man held up his hand in token that hewished to speak, and immediately a deathlike silence fell again upon thecrowd.

  "My friends," spoke the clear deliberate voice, "it would be a greatpity and mischief to let such a people as this assembled here die byfamine or any other way, if a means can be found to save them; and itwould be great alms and great grace in the sight of the Lord for any onewho could save them from such harm. I have myself so great hope offinding grace and pardon in the sight of our Lord, if I die to save thispeople, that I will be the first, and will yield myself willingly, innothing but my shirt, with my head bare and a halter round my neck, tothe mercy of the King of England."

  As these simple but truly heroic words were spoken a burst of weepingand blessing arose from the crowd, women pressed forward and fell at thefeet of the worthy citizen, and Raymond said in his heart:

  "Sure if the King of England could but see it, there is more chivalry inyon simple merchant than in half the knights who stand about his throne."

  It is seldom that a noble example is thrown away upon men. Hardly hadthe burst of weeping died away before two more men, brothers, to judgeby their likeness to each other, mounted the steps and stood beside St.Pierre. He held out his hand and greeted them by name.

  "My good friends Jacques and Peter de Wisant, we go hand in hand todeath, as we have gone hand in hand in other ventures of another kind.And hither to join us comes our good friend Jehan d'Aire. Truly if wemarch to death, we shall march in good company."

  The full number was soon made up. Six of the wealthiest and best knownof the citizens came forward and stood together to be disrobed and ledbefore the King.

  But Raymond could bear the sight no longer. With a bursting heart hehurried through the crowd, which made way wonderingly for him as hemoved, and went straight towards the gate by which he had entered, nonehindering his path.

  "It is the blessed saint who came amongst us in our hour of need," saidthe women one to another, "and now perchance he goes to intercede withthe mighty conqueror! See how his face is set towards the gate; see thelight that shines in his eyes! Sure he can be no being of this earth,else how could he thus come and go in our beleaguered city!"

  The guard at the gate looked with doubtful eyes at the stranger, and oneman stood in his path as if to hinder him; but Raymond's eyes seemed tolook through and beyond him, and in a clear, strange voice he said:

  "In the name of the Blessed Son of God, I bid thee let me pass. I goupon an errand of mercy in that most Holy Name."

  The man fell back, his comrades crossed themselves and bent the knee.Raymond passed out of the gate, scarce knowing how he had done so, andsped back to the English camp as if his feet had wings. With that samestrangely rapt expression upon his face, he went straight to the lodgingof the Prince of Wales, and entering without ceremony found not only thePrince there, but also his royal mother, the gracious Queen Philippa.

  Bending his knee to that fair lady, but without one thought beyond thepresent urgent need of the moment, Raymond told all his tale in the earof the Queen and the Prince. With that power of graphic descriptionwhich was the gift of his vivid imagination and deep sense of sympathywith the needs of others, he brought the whole scene before the eyes ofhis listeners the crowded marketplace, the famine-stricken people intheir extremity and despair, the calm heroism of the men who willinglyoffered their lives to save those of their townspeople, and the wailingmultitude watching the start of the devoted six going forth to ashameful and ignominious death on their behalf.

  And as Raymond spoke the Prince's cheek flushed, and the eyes of thebeautiful Queen kindled and filled with sudden tears; and rising to herfeet she held out her hand to Raymond and said:

  "Good lad, I thank thee for thy tale, and the request thy lips have notspoken shall be granted. Those men shall not die! I, the Queen ofEngland, will save them. I pledge thee here my royal word. I will to mynoble husband and win their pardon myself."

  Raymond sank upon his knee and kissed the fair hand extended to him, andboth he and the Prince hastened after the Queen, who hoped to find herroyal husband alone and in a softened mood, as he was wont to be afterthe stress of the day was over.

  But time had fled fast whilst Raymond had been telling his tale, andalready notice had been brought to Edward of the approach of the sixcitizens, and he had gone forth into a pavilion erected for hisconvenience in an open part of the camp; and there he was seated withgrim aspect and frowning brow as his Queen approached to speak with him.

  "I will hear thee anon, good wife," he said, seeing that she craved hisear. "I have sterner work on hand today than the dallying of women. Stayor go as thou wilt, but speak not to me till this day's work is carriedthrough."

  Raymond's heart sank as he heard these words, and saw the relentlesslook upon the King's face. None realized better than he the cruel sideto the boasted chivalry of the age; and these middle-aged burgesses,with no knightliness of dress or bearing, would little move the loftierside of the King's nature. There would be no glamour of romancesurrounding them. He would think only of the thousands of pounds theresistance of the city had cost him, and he would order to a speedydeath those whom he would regard as in part the cause of all thistrouble and loss.

  The Queen made no further effort to win his notice, but with gracefuldignity placed herself beside him; whilst the Prince, quivering withsuppressed excitement, stepped behind his father's chair. Raymond stoodin the surrounding circle, and felt Gaston's arm slipped within his. Buthe had eyes only for the mournful procession approaching from thedirection of the city, and every nerve was strained to catch thelightest tone of the Queen's voice if she should speak.

  The governor of Calais, though disabled by wounds from walking, waspacing on horseback beside the devoted six thus giving themselves up todeath; and as he told how they had come forward to save their fellowcitizens from death, tears gathered in many eyes, and brave Sir WalterManny, who had pleaded their cause before, again threw himself upon hisknees before his sovereign, and besought his compassion for the brav
eburgesses.

  But Edward would not listen -- would not allow the better feelingswithin him to have play. With a few angry and scathing words, biddinghis servants remember what Calais had cost them to take, and what theobstinacy of its citizens had made England pay, he relentlessly orderedthe executioner to do his work, and that right quickly; and as that grimfunctionary slowly advanced to do the royal bidding, a shiver ranthrough the standing crowd, the devoted six alone holding themselvesfearlessly erect.

  But just at the moment when it seemed as if all hope of mercy was at anend, the gentle Queen arose and threw herself at her husband's feet, andher silvery voice rose clear above the faint murmur rising in the throng.

  "Ah, gentle Sire, since I have crossed the sea with great peril, I havenever asked you anything; now I humbly pray, for the sake of the Son ofthe Holy Mary and your love of me, that you will have mercy on these sixbrave men!"

  Raymond's breath came so thick and fast as he waited for the answer,that he scarce heard it when it came, though the ringing cheer whichbroke from the lips of those who stood by told him well its purport.

  The King's face, gloomy at first, softened as he gazed upon the gracefulform of his wife, and with a smile he said at last:

  "Dame, I wish you had been somewhere else this day; but I cannot refuseyou. I put them into your keeping; do with them what you will."

  Raymond felt himself summoned by a glance from the Prince. TheQueen-mother had bidden him take the men, and feast them royally, andsend them away with rich gifts.

  As the youth who had done so much for them forced his way to the side ofthe Prince, his face full of a strange enthusiasm and depth of feeling,the citizens looked one upon another and whispered:

  "Sure it was true what the women said to us. That was the youth with theface of painted saint that we saw within the walls of the city. Sure theBlessed Saints have been watching over us this day, and have sent anangel messenger down to deliver us in our hour of sorest need!"