The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  For the next three weeks the time passed quietly. Guy went every morning to the salle d’armes, for his wound being on his left shoulder he was able to use his sword arm as soon as it began to heal.

  “You underrated your skill,” the fencing-master said when he had given him his first lesson. “It is true that you do not know the niceties of sword-playing, but indeed you are so quick of eye and wrist that you can afford to do without them. Still, doubtless after a couple of months’ practice here you will be so far improved that he will need to be a good swordsman who holds his own with you.”

  Guy paid only one visit during this time to the lodgings of the Italian.

  “You have not heard from me, Master Aylmer,” the latter said, “because indeed there has been nothing of importance to tell you. The Armagnacs are, I hear, collecting a great army, and are likely ere long to march in this direction. The butchers are becoming more and more unpopular and more and more violent; not a day passes but many citizens are killed by them under the pretence that they are Armagnacs, but really because they had expressed themselves as hostile to the doings of these tyrants. I have cast your horoscope, and I find that the conjunction of the planets at your birth was eminently favourable. It seems to me that about this time you will pass through many perilous adventures, but you are destined to escape any dangers that threaten you. You will gain honour and renown, and come to fortune through a marriage. There are other things in your career that are uncertain, since I cannot tell at what date they are likely to occur and whether the planets that were favourable at your birth may again be in the ascendant; but, for as much as I have told you, I have no doubt whatever.”

  “I thank you for the trouble that you have taken, Count Montepone,” for Guy had now learned the rank that the Italian held in his own country, “and can only trust that your predictions will be verified. I would rather win fortune by my own hand than by marriage, though it will not come amiss.”

  “Whatever way it may happen, you will be knighted,” the astrologist said gravely, “after a great battle, and by the hand of a sovereign; though by whom the battle will be fought and who the sovereign may be I cannot say, but methinks that it will be the English king.”

  “That I can wish more than anything,” Guy said warmly. “Fortune is good, but to be knighted by a royal hand would be an honour greater than any other that could befall me.”

  “Bear your destiny in mind,” the Italian said earnestly, “remember that in many cases predictions bring about their own fulfilment; and truly I am rejoiced that I have found that the stars point out so prosperous a future for you.”

  Guy was not free from the superstition of the time, and although in his English home he had seldom heard astrology mentioned, he had found since he had been in France that many even of the highest rank had an implicit belief in it, and he was convinced that at any rate the count himself believed in the power of the stars. He was gratified, therefore, to be told that his future would be prosperous; and, indeed, the predictions were not so improbable as to excite doubt in themselves. He was already an esquire, and unless he fell in combat or otherwise, it was probable that he would attain the honour of knighthood before many years had passed. The fact, however, that it was to be bestowed by royal hand added greatly to the value of the honour. Knighthood was common in those days; it was bestowed almost as a matter of course upon young men of good birth, especially if they took up the profession of arms. Every noble had some, while not a few had many knights in their service, discharging what would now be the duties of officers when their levies were called out, and they could themselves bestow the rank upon any man possessing a certain amount of land; but to be knighted by a distinguished leader, or by a sovereign, was a distinction greatly prized, and placed its recipient in quite another category to the knights by service. It was a testimony alike of valour and of birth, and was a proof that its bearer was a warrior of distinction. The prophecy that he would better his fortune by marriage weighed little with him; marriage was a matter that appeared to him at present to be a very remote contingency; at the same time it was pleasant to him to be told that his wife would be an heiress, because this would place him above the need of earning his living by his sword, and would enable him to follow his sovereign, not as one of the train of a powerful noble, but as a free knight.

  AT AGINCOURT (Part 2)

  CHAPTER IX

  A STOUT DEFENCE

  The Duke of Burgundy had left Paris upon the day after he had received Dame Margaret, and as the king had a lucid interval, the Duke of Aquitaine, his son, was also absent with the army. In Paris there existed a general sense of uneasiness and alarm. The butchers, feeling that their doings had excited a strong reaction against them, and that several of the other guilds, notably that of the carpenters, were combining against them, determined to strike terror into their opponents by attacking some of their leaders. Several of these were openly murdered in the streets, and the houses of others were burnt and sacked. One evening when Guy had returned at nine o’clock from a supper at Count Charles’s lodgings, it being the first time he had been out after dark since his first adventure, he had but just gone up to his room, when he heard a loud knocking at the door below. Going to the front window he looked out of the casement.

  “Who is it that knocks?” he asked.

  “It is I—the lad of Notre Dame.”

  He recognized the voice and ran down and opened the door.

  “What is it, signora?”

  “My father bids me tell you, sir, that he but learned the instant before he despatched me that the butchers are going to attack this house this evening, under the pretext that there are English spies here, but really to slay the provost of the silversmiths, and to gratify their followers by the sack of his house. I fear that I am too late, for they were to march from the abattoirs at nine, and it is already nearly half-past. Look! I see torches coming up the street.”

  “It is too late, indeed, to fly, even if we wished to,” Guy said. “Dame Margaret and the children retired to bed an hour ago. Will you take this ring,” and he took off from his finger one that D’Estournel had given him, “and carry it at once to the lodgings of Count Charles d’Estournel? They are in the house on this side of the Hotel of St. Pol. He is still up, and has some of his friends with him. Tell him from me that this house is being attacked, and beg him to gather a party, if he can, and come to our assistance. Say that we shall defend it until the last.”

  The girl took the ring and ran off at the top of her speed. The roar of the distant crowd could now be distinctly heard. Guy put up the strong bars of the door and then rushed upstairs. First he knocked at the door of Maître Leroux.

  “The butchers are coming to attack your house!” he shouted. “Call up your servants; bid them take to their arms.” Then he ran up to the room where his men slept. Long Tom, who had met him at D’Estournel’s door and accompanied him home, sprang to his feet from his pallet as Guy entered. “The butchers are about to attack the house, Tom; up all of you and arm yourselves; bring down your bow and arrows. Where do the men-servants sleep?”

  “There are five of them in the next room, and the two who serve in the shop are in the chamber beyond,” the archer replied, as he hastily buckled on his armour. Guy rushed to the door and awoke the inmates of the rooms, telling them to arm and hasten down to defend the house, which was about to be attacked. A moment later Maître Leroux himself appeared and repeated the order.

  “Art sure of what you say, Master Guy?” he asked.

  “Look from the window and you will see them approaching,” Guy replied, and going to the casement window which was at the front of the house he threw it open. Some four hundred yards away a dense throng was coming along; a score of torches lighted up the scene.

  “Resistance is vain,” the silversmith said. “It is my life they seek; I will go down to them.”

  “Resistance will not be in vain,” Guy said firmly. “I have already sent for aid, and we shall have
a body of Burgundian men-at-arms here to our assistance before long. Your life will not satisfy them; it is the plunder of your shop and house that they long for, and you may be sure that they will put all to the sword if they once break in. Now let us run down and see what we can do to strengthen our defences.”

  “The shutters and doors are all strong,” the provost said as they hurried downstairs, followed by the four men-at-arms and the servants—for in those days men removed but few of their garments as they lay down on their rough pallets.

  “In the first place,” Guy said, “we must pile everything that we can find below against these doors, so that when they yield we can still make a defence here, before we retire. Are there other stairs than these?”

  “No.”

  “So much the better. As soon as we have blocked the door we will barricade the first landing and defend ourselves there. Jean Bart, do you take the command below for the present. Seize everything that you can lay hands on, logs from the wood-store, sacks of charcoal, cases, everything heavy that you can find, and pile them up against the door. Tom, do you come with us; an arrow or two will check their ardour, and it is not likely they have brought bows or cross-bows with them. Try to parley with them as long as you can, Maître Leroux, every minute is of value.”

  “What is all this, Guy?” Dame Margaret asked as she entered the apartment. Having been aroused by the noise she had hastily attired herself, and had just come into the front room.

  “The butchers are about to attack the house, lady; we are going to defend it. I have sent to D’Estournel, and we may hope for aid before long.”

  At this moment there was a loud knocking at the door and a hoarse roar of voices from the street. The silversmith went to the casement and opened it, and he and Guy looked out. A shout of fury arose from the street, with cries of “Death to the English spies!” “Death to the Armagnac provost!”

  Leroux in vain endeavoured to make his voice heard, and so tell the crowd that his guests were not spies, but had been lodged at his house by the Duke of Burgundy himself. A tall man on horseback, one of several who were evidently leaders of the mob, pressed his way through the crowd to the door and evidently gave some orders, and a din of heavy sledge-hammers and axes beating against it at once mingled with the shouts of the crowd. The horseman crossed again to the other side of the street and shook his fist threateningly at Leroux.

  “That is Jacques Legoix,” the silversmith said, as he retired from the window; “one of the great leaders of the butchers; his family, and the St. Yons and Taiberts rule the market.”

  “Tom,” Guy said to the archer, who was standing behind him. “Begin by picking off that fellow on horseback opposite.”

  Tom had already bent his bow and had an arrow in readiness, a moment later the shaft flew and struck the butcher between the eyes, and he fell dead from his horse. A yell of consternation and rage rose from the crowd.

  “Now you can distribute a few arrows among those fellows at the door,” Guy said.

  The archer leant far out of the low casement. “It is awkward shooting, Master Guy,” he said quietly, “but I daresay I can make a shift to manage it.” Disregarding the furious yells of the crowd, he sent arrow after arrow among the men using the sledges and axes. Many of them had steel caps with projecting rims which sheltered the neck, but as they raised their weapons with both hands over their heads they exposed their chests to the marksman above, and not an arrow that was shot failed to bring down a man. When six had fallen no fresh volunteers came forward to take their places, although another horseman made his way up to them and endeavoured by persuasions and threats to induce them to continue the work. This man was clad in armour, and wore a steel cap in the place of the knightly helmet.

  “Who is that fellow?” Guy asked the merchant.

  “He is the son of Caboche, the head of the flayers, one of the most pestilent villains in the city.”

  “Keep your eye on him, Tom, and when you see a chance send an arrow home.”

  “That armour of his is but common stuff, Master Guy; as soon as I get a chance I will send a shaft through it.”

  The man with a gesture of anger turned and gave instructions to a number of men, who pushed their way through the crowd, first picking up some of the fallen hammers and axes. The fate of his associate had evidently taught the horseman prudence, for as he moved away he kept his head bent down so as not to expose his face to the aim of the terrible marksman at the window. He halted a short distance away and was evidently haranguing the crowd round him, and in his vehemence raised his arm. The moment he did so Tom’s bow twanged. The arrow struck him at the unprotected part under the arm-pit, and he fell headlong from his horse. Maddened with rage the crowd no longer hesitated, and again attacked the door. Just as they did so there was a roar of exultation down the street as twelve men brought up a solid gate that they had beaten in and wrenched from its hinges from a house beyond.

  “You can shoot as you like now, Tom. I will go down and see how the men are getting on below; the mob will have the door in sooner or later.”

  Guy found that the men below had not wasted their time. A great pile of logs, sacks, and other materials was piled against the door, and a short distance behind stood a number of barrels of wine and heavy cases ready to be placed in position.

  “Get them upstairs, Jean,” Guy said; “they will make a better barricade than the furniture, which we may as well save if possible.”

  The nine men set to work, and in a very short time a strong barricade was formed across the top of the wide staircase.

  “Have you all the cases out of the shop?”

  “Yes, we have not left one there, Master Guy. If they are all full of silver there must be enough for a royal banqueting-table.”

  Some, indeed, of the massive chests were so heavy that it required the efforts of six men to carry them upstairs.

  “How do matters go, Guy?” Dame Margaret asked quietly as he re-entered the apartment.

  “Very well,” he replied. “I don’t think the door will hold out much longer; but there is a strong barricade behind it which it will take them some time to force, and another on the landing here that we ought to be able to hold for an hour at least, and before that yields we will have another ready on the landing above.”

  “I will see to that,” she said. “I will take Agnes and Charlie up with me, and then, with the women, I will move out the clothes’ and linen chests and build them up there.”

  “Thank you, madame; I trust long before the barricade here is carried we shall have D’Estournel and his friends to our assistance. Indeed, I doubt whether they will be able to carry it at all; it is as solid and almost as strong as a stone wall, and as there are thirteen or fourteen of us to defend it, it seems to me that nothing short of battering the cases to pieces will enable them to force a way.”

  “I wish I could do something,” Agnes broke in; “it is hard not to be able to help while you are all fighting for us. I wish I had brought my bow with me, you know I can shoot fairly.”

  “I think that it is just as well that you have not,” Guy said with a smile. “I do not doubt your courage for a moment, but if you were placing yourself in danger we should all be anxious about you, and I would much rather know that you were safe with your mother upstairs.”

  Guy now went to the window. Maître Leroux had been directing his servants in the formation of the barricades.

  “I can do nothing to protect the door,” the archer said; “they have propped up that gate so as to cover the men who are hammering at it. I have been distributing my arrows among the crowd, and in faith there will be a good many vacancies among the butchers and flayers in the market tomorrow morning. I am just going up to fill my quiver again and bring down a spare armful of arrows.”

  “Leave those on the landing here, Tom, and bring your full quiver down below. The door will not hold many minutes longer: I could see that it was yielding when I was down there just now. I don’t think that
we shall be able to make a long defence below, for with their hooked halberts they will be able to pull out the logs, do what we will.”

  One of the servants now ran in.

  “They have broken the door down, sir. It is only kept in place by the things behind it.”

  Guy ran out, climbed the barricade—which on the landing was four feet high, but as it was built on the edge of the top stair it was nine inches higher on that face—let himself drop on to the stairs, and ran down into the passage.

  “I think, Maître Leroux,” he said, “that you and your men had better go up at once and station yourselves at the barricade. There is no room here for more than five of us to use our arms, and when we retire we shall have to do so quickly. Will you please fasten a chair on the top step in such a way that we can use it to climb over the barricade without delay? We are like to be hard pressed, and it is no easy matter to get over a five-foot wall speedily with a crowd of armed men pressing hotly on your heels.”

  The provost told two of his men to pick out a square block of firewood, as nearly as possible the thickness of the height of one of the steps. After trying several they found one that would do, and on placing it on the stair next to the top it formed with the step above it a level platform. On this the chair was placed, a strong rope being attached to it so that it could be pulled up over the barricade when the last of the defenders had entered. By the time this was finished the battle below began in earnest. The infuriated assailants had pulled the doors outwards and were making desperate efforts to climb the pile of logs. This they soon found to be impossible, and began with their halberts to pull them down, and it was not long before they had dislodged sufficient to make a slope up which they could climb. Their work had not been carried on with impunity, for the archer had stationed himself on the top and sent his arrows thick and fast among them.

  “In faith, master,” he said to Guy, who stood close behind, “methinks that I am doing almost as much harm as good, for I am aiding them mightily in making their slope, which will presently contain as many dead men as logs.”