CHAPTER XXXII. ON THE FIELD OF POITIERS.
The face of the Prince was dark and grave. He had posted his gallantlittle army in the strongest position the country afforded; but his menwere ill-fed, and though brave as lions and eager for the battle, werebut a handful of troops compared with the vast French host opposed to them.
Eight thousand against fifty or even sixty thousand! Such an inequalitymight well make the stoutest heart quail. But there was no fear in youngEdward's eyes, only a glance of stern anxiety slightly dashed withregret; for the concessions just made to the Cardinal de Perigord, whowas earnestly striving to arrange terms between the rival armies and soavoid the bloodshed of a battle, went sorely against the grain of thewarrior prince, and he was almost disposed to repent that he had beeninduced to make them.
But his position was sufficiently critical, and defeat meant theannihilation of the gallant little army who had followed his fortunesthrough two campaigns, and who were to a man his devoted servants. Hehad led them, according to promise, upon another long march of unopposedplunder and victory, right into the very heart of France; whilst anotherEnglish army in Normandy and Brittany had been harassing the FrenchKing, and averting his attention from the movements of his son.
Perhaps young Edward's half-matured plan had been to join the otherEnglish forces in the north, for he was too much the general and thesoldier to think of marching upon Paris or of attacking the French armywith his own small host. Indeed, a few reverses had recently taught himthat he had already ventured almost too far into the heart of a hostilecountry; and he was, in fact, retreating upon Bordeaux, believing theFrench army to be behind him, when he discovered that it was in front ofhim, intercepting his farther progress, and he was made aware of thisunwelcome fact by seeing the advance guard of his own army literally cutto pieces by the French soldiers before he could come to their assistance.
Realizing at once the immense peril of his position, the Prince hadmarched on till he reached a spot where he could post his men to someadvantage amongst hedges and bushes that gave them shelter, and wouldserve to embarrass an attacking foe, and in particular any charge ofcavalry. The place selected was some six miles from Poitiers, andpossessed so many natural advantages that the Prince felt encouraged tohope for a good issue to the day, albeit the odds were fearfully to hisdisadvantage.
He had looked to be speedily attacked by the French King, who was inperson leading his host; but the Saturday passed away without anyadvance, and on Sunday morning the good Cardinal de Perigord began tostrive to bring matters to a peaceable issue.
Brave as the young Prince was, and great as his reliance on his men hadalways been, his position was perilous in the extreme, and he had beenwilling to listen to the words of the Cardinal. Indeed, he had madewonderful concessions to the messenger of peace, for he had at lastconsented to give up all the places he had taken, to set free allprisoners, and to swear not to take up arms against the King of Francefor seven years; and now he stood looking towards the French host with afrown of anxious perplexity upon his face, for the Cardinal had goneback to the French King with this message, and already the Prince washalf repentant at having conceded so much. He had been persuaded ratheragainst his will, and he was wondering what his royal father would saywhen he should hear.
He had been thinking rather of his brave soldiers' lives than his ownmilitary renown, when he had let himself be won over by the goodCardinal. Had he, after all, made a grand mistake?
His knights stood around, well understanding the conflict going on inhis breast, and sympathizing deeply with him in this crisis of his life,but not knowing themselves what it were best to do. The sun was creepingto the horizon before the Cardinal was seen returning, and his face wasgrave and sorrowful as he was ushered into the presence of the Prince.
"My Liege," he said, in accents of regret, "it is but sorry news I haveto bring you. My royal master of his own will would have gladly listenedto the terms to which your consent has been won, save for the viciouscounsel of my lord Bishop of Chalons, Renaud Chauveau, who hates yournation so sorely that he has begged the King, even upon his bendedknees, to slay every English soldier in this realm rather than sufferthem to escape just when they had fallen into his power, rather thanlisten to overtures of submission without grasping the victory of bloodwhich God had put into his hands. Wherefore my liege the King has vowedthat he will consent to nothing unless you yourself, together with onehundred of your knights, will give yourselves up into his hand withoutcondition."
Young Edward's eyes flashed fire. A look more like triumph than dismaycrossed his noble face. Looking at the sorrowful Cardinal, with thelight of battle in his eyes, he said in ringing tones:
"My Lord Cardinal, I thank you for your goodwill towards us. You are agood and holy man, an ambassador of peace, and as such you arefulfilling your Master's will. But I can listen no longer to your words.Go back to the King of France, and tell him that I thank him for hislast demand, because it leaves me no choice but to fight him to thedeath; and ten thousand times would I rather fight than yield, albeitpersuaded to submit to terms by your eloquent pleading. Return to yourlord, and tell him that Edward of England defies him, and will meet himin battle so soon as it pleases him to make the attack. I fear him not.The English have found no such mighty antagonists in the French thatthey should fear them now.
"Go, my Lord Cardinal, and carry back my message of defiance. Ereanother sun has set I hope to meet John of France face to face in theforemost of the fight!"
A shout of joy and triumph rose from a hundred throats as this answerwas listened to by the Prince's knights, and the cheer was taken up andechoed by every soldier in the camp. It was the signal, as all knewwell, that negotiation had failed; and the good Cardinal wentsorrowfully back to the French lines, whilst the English soldiersredoubled their efforts at trenching the ground and strengthening theirposition -- efforts which had been carried on ceaselessly all throughthis and the preceding day, regardless of the negotiations for peace,which many amongst them hoped would prove abortive.
Then up to the Prince's side stepped bold Sir James Audley, who had beenhis counsellor and adviser during the whole of the campaign, and bywhose advice the coming battle was being arranged.
"Sire," he said, bending the knee before his youthful lord, "I long agovowed a vow that if ever I should find myself upon the field of battlewith the King of England or his son, I would be foremost in the fightfor his defence. Sire, that day has now dawned -- or will dawn withtomorrow's sun. Grant me, I pray you, leave to be the first to chargeinto yon host, and so fulfil the vow long registered before God."
"Good Sir James, it shall be even as thou wilt," answered the Prince,extending his hand. "But if thou goest thus into peril, sure thou wiltnot go altogether alone?"
"I will choose out four knightly comrades," answered Sir James, "andtogether we will ride into the battle. I know well that there will be nolack of brave men ready and willing to fight at my side. Gaston deBrocas has claimed already to be one, and his brother ever strives to beat his side. But he has yet his spurs to win, and I may but take with methose who are knights already."
"Raymond de Brocas's spurs unwon!" cried the Prince, with kindling eye,"and he the truest knight amongst us! Call him hither this moment to me.Shame upon me that I have not ere this rewarded such pure and loftycourage as his by that knighthood he so well merits!"
And then and there upon the field of Poitiers Raymond received hisknighthood, amid the cheers of the bystanders, from the hands of thePrince, on the eve of one of England's most glorious victories.
Gaston's eyes were shining with pride as he led his brother back totheir tent as the last of the September daylight faded from the sky.
"I had set my heart on sending thee back to thy Joan with the spurs ofknighthood won," he said, affectionately pressing his brother's hands."And truly, as they all say, none were ever more truly won than thinehave been, albeit thou wilt ever be more the saint than the warrior."
&nb
sp; Raymond's eyes were bright. For Joan's sake rather than his own herejoiced in his new honour; though every man prided himself upon thatwelcome distinction, especially when bestowed by the hand of King orPrince. And the thought of a speedy return to England and his true lovethere was as the elixir of life to Raymond, who was counting the daysand hours before he might hope to set sail for his native land again.
He had remained with his brother at Saut all through the past winter.Gaston and Constanza had been married at Bordeaux very shortly after thedeath of old Navailles; and they had returned to Saut, their futurehome, and Raymond had gone with them. Greatly as he longed for Englandand Joan, his duty to the Prince kept him beside him till he shouldobtain his dismissal to see after his own private affairs. The Princeneeded his faithful knights and followers about him in his projectedexpedition of the present year; and Gaston required his brother's helpand counsel in setting to rights the affairs of his new kingdom, and ingetting into better order a long-neglected estate and its people.
There had been work enough to fill their minds and hands for the wholetime the Prince had been able to spare them from his side; and aninterchange of letters between him and his lady love had helped Raymondto bear the long separation from her. She had assured him of herchangeless devotion, of her present happiness and wellbeing, and hadbidden him think first of his duty to the Prince, and second of hisdesire to rejoin her. They owed much to the Prince: all their presenthappiness and security were the outcome of his generous interposition ontheir behalf. Raymond's worldly affairs were not suffering by hisabsence. Master Bernard de Brocas was looking to that. He would find allwell on his return to England; and it were better he should do his dutynobly by the Prince now, and return with him when they had subdued theirenemies, than hasten at once to her side. In days to come it wouldgrieve them to feel that they had at this juncture thought first ofthemselves, when King and country should have taken the foremost place.
So Raymond had taken the counsel thus given, and now was one of those tobe foremost in the field on the morrow. No thought of fear was in hisheart or Gaston's; peril was too much the order of the day to excite anybut a passing sense of the uncertainty of human life. They had comeunscathed through so much, and Raymond had so long been said to bear acharmed life, that he and Gaston had alike ceased to tremble before theissue of a battle. Well armed and well mounted, and versed in every artof attack and defence, the young knights felt no personal fear, and onlylonged to come forth with honour from the contest, whatever else theirfate might be.
Monday morning dawned, and the two opposing armies were all in readinessfor the attack. The fighting began almost by accident by the bold actionof a Gascon knight, Eustace d'Ambrecicourt, who rode out alone towardswhat was called the "battle of the marshals," and was met by Louis deRecombes with his silver shield, whom he forthwith unhorsed. Thisprovoked a rapid advance of the marshals' battle, and the fighting beganin good earnest.
The moment this was soon to have taken place, the brave James Audley,calling upon his four knights to follow him, dashed in amongst theFrench in another part of the field, giving no quarter, taking noprisoners, but performing such prodigies of valour as struck terror intothe breasts of the foe. The French army (with the exception of threehundred horsemen, whose mission was to break the ranks of the bowmen)had been ordered, on account of the nature of the ground, all to fighton foot; and when the bold knight and his four chosen companions camecharging in upon them, wheeling their battle-axes round their heads andflashing through the ranks like a meteor, the terrified andimpressionable Frenchmen cried out that St. George himself had appearedto fight against them, and an unreasoning panic seized upon them.
Flights of arrows from the dreaded English longbow added immeasurably totheir distress and bewilderment. The three hundred horsemen utterlyfailed in their endeavour to approach these archers, securely postedbehind the hedges, and protected by the trenches they had dug. Thearrows sticking in the horses rendered them perfectly wild andunmanageable, and turning back upon their own comrades, they threw theranks behind into utter confusion, trampling to death many of thefootmen, and increasing the panic tenfold.
Then seeing the utter confusion of his foes, the Prince charged inamongst them, dealing death and destruction wherever he went. The terrorof the French increased momentarily; and the division under the Duke ofNormandy, that had not even taken any part as yet in the battle, rushedto their horses, mounted and fled without so much as striking a blow.
The King of France, however, behaved with far greater gallantry thaneither his son or the majority of his knights and nobles, and the battlethat he led was long and fiercely contested.
If, as the chronicler tells us, one-fourth of his soldiers had shown thesame bravery as he did, the fortunes of the day would have been vastlydifferent; but though personally brave, he was no genius in war, and hisfatal determination to fight the battle on foot was a gross blunder inmilitary tactics. Even when he and his division were being charged bythe Prince of Wales at full gallop, at the head of two thousand lances,the men all flushed with victory, John made his own men dismount, andhimself did the same, fighting with his axe like a common soldier;whilst his little son Philip crouched behind him, narrowly watching hisassailants, and crying out words of warning to his father as he sawblows dealt at him from right or left.
The French were driven back to the very gates of Poitiers, where a greatslaughter ensued; for those gates were now shut against them, and theyhad nowhere else to fly. The battle had begun early in the morning, andby noon the trumpets were sounding to recall the English from thepursuit of their flying foes.
Such a victory and such vast numbers of noble prisoners almostbewildered even the victors themselves; and the Prince was anxious toassemble his knights once more about him, to learn some of the detailsof the issue of the day. That the French King had either been killed ormade prisoner appeared certain, for it was confidently asserted that hehad not left the field; but for some time the confusion was so greatthat it was impossible to ascertain what had actually happened, and thePrince, who had gone to his tent to take some refreshment after thelabours of the day, had others than his high-born prisoners to think for.
"Who has seen Sir James Audley -- gallant Sir James?" he asked, lookinground upon the circle of faces about him and missing that of the one heperhaps loved best amongst his knights. "Who has seen him since hisgallant charge that made all men hold their breath with wonder? I wouldfain reward him for that gallant example he gave to our brave soldiersat the beginning of the day."
News was soon brought that Sir James had been badly wounded, and hadbeen carried by his knights to his tent. The Prince would have gone tovisit him there; but news of this proposal having been brought to theknight, he caused himself to be transported to the Prince's tent by hisknights, all of whom had escaped almost unscathed from their gallantescapade. Thus it came about that Gaston and Raymond stood within theroyal tent, whilst the Prince bent over his faithful knight, andpromised as the reward for that day's gallantry that he should remainhis own knight for ever, and receive five hundred marks yearly from theroyal treasury.
Then, when poor Sir James, too spent and faint to remain longer, hadbeen carried hence by some of the bystanders, the Prince turned to thetwin brothers and grasped them by the hand.
"I greatly rejoice that ye have come forth unhurt from that fiercestrife in the which ye so boldly plunged. What can I do for you, bravecomrades, to show the gratitude of a King's son for all your faithfulservice?"
"Sire," answered Gaston, "since you have asked us to claim our guerdon,and since your foes are at your feet, your rival a prisoner in yourroyal hands (if he be not a dead corpse), and the whole land subject toyou; since there be no further need in the present for us to fight foryou, and a time of peace seems like to follow upon this glorious day,methinks my brother and I would fain request your royal permission toretire for a while each to his own home, to regulate our privateconcerns, and dwell awhile each with the wife of h
is choice. Thouknowest that I have a wife but newly made mine, and that my brother onlytarries to fly to his betrothed bride till you have no farther need ofhis sword. If ever the day dawns when King or Prince of England needsthe faithful service of Gascon swords, those of Raymond and Gaston deBrocas will not be wanting to him. Yet in the present --"
"Ay, ay, I understand well: in the present there be bright eyes that aremore to you than glittering swords, and a service that is sweeter thanthat of King or Prince. Nay, blush not, boy; I like you the better forthat the softer passions dwell in your breast with those of sternersort. Ye have well shown many a day ere now that ye possess the courageof young lions, and that England will never call upon you in vain. Butnow that times of peace and quiet seem like to fall upon us, get you toyour homes and your wives. May Heaven grant you joy and happiness inboth; and England's King and Prince will over have smiles of welcome foryou when ye bring to the Court the sweet ladies of your choice. Do I notknow them both? and do I not know that ye have both chosen worthily andwell?"
A tumult without the tent now announced the approach of the French King,those who brought him disputing angrily together whose prisoner he was.The Prince stepped out to receive his vanquished foe with that winningcourtesy so characteristic of one who so longed to see the revival ofthe truer chivalry, and in the confusion which ensued Gaston and Raymondslipped away to their own tent.
"And now," cried Gaston, clasping his brother's hand, "our day ofservice is for the moment ended. Now for a space of peaceful repose andof those domestic joys of which thou and I, brother, know so little."
"At last!" quoth Raymond, drawing a long breath, his eyes glowing andkindling as he looked into his brother's face and then far beyond it inthe direction of the land of his adoption. "At last my task is done; myduty to my Prince has been accomplished. Now I am free to go whither Iwill. Now for England and my Joan!"
In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince Page 32
