by G. A. Henty
The other six knights all agreed with Sir James, who then said, “I hear that Van Artevelde has summoned his leaders to consult them as to the best course. I will go across and tell them what in our opinion had better be done.”
He returned in half an hour. “'Tis hopeless,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “These Flemings are as obstinate as they are ignorant; not one of those present agreed with my proposal. Many, indeed, broke into rude laughter, and so I left them.”
After crossing the Lys the French came to Ypres, and on the same day the Flemings broke up their camp before Oudenarde and marched, fifty thousand strong, to Courtray. On the following day they moved forward to ground which Van Artevelde and his counsellors deemed good for fighting. Behind them was a hill, a dyke was on one wing, and a grove of wood was on the other. The French were camped at Rosbecque, some four miles away. That evening Van Artevelde invited all the principal men and officers to sup with him, and gave them instructions for the morrow. He said that he was not sorry that no large force of Englishmen had come to their aid, for had they done so they would assuredly have had the credit of the victory. He also gave orders that no prisoners should be taken save the king himself, whom they would bring to Ghent and instruct in the Flemish language.
A false alarm roused the camp at midnight, and although it proved to be ill-founded, the Flemings were so uneasy at the thought that they might be attacked unawares, that great fires were lighted and meat cooked and wine drunk until an hour before daylight, when they arranged themselves in order of battle and also occupied a heath beyond the wood. A large dyke ran across in front of them, and behind them the ground was covered by small bushes. Philip Van Artevelde was in the centre with 9,000 picked men of Ghent, whom he always kept near his person, as he had but little faith in the goodwill of those from other towns.
Beyond these were the contingents of Alost and Grammont, of Courtray and Bruges, Damme and Sluys. All were armed with maces, steel caps, breast- pieces, and gauntlets of steel. Each carried a staff tipped with iron; each company and craft had its own livery, and colours and standards with the arms of their town. The morning was misty, and no sign could be seen of the French. After a time the Flemings became impatient, and determined to sally out to meet the enemy.
“It is just madness,” Sir James said to the English knights, who, with their followers, had gathered round him. “I had great hopes that, with the dyke in their front to check the onrush of the French, they might withstand all attacks and come out victors; now they are throwing away their advantage, and going like sheep to the shearers. By my faith, friends, 'tis well that our horses have rested of late, for we shall need all their speed if we are to make our escape from this business.”
As they moved forward in the mist they caught sight of some French knights, who moved backwards and forwards along their front and then rode away, doubtless to inform their countrymen that the Flemings were advancing against them. In the French army were all the best knights and leaders of France, and as soon as they heard that the Flemings were advancing they divided into three bodies, the one carrying the royal banner, which was to attack the Flemings in front; the two others were to move on either side and fall upon their flanks. This arranged, they moved forward with full confidence of victory.
The central division fell first upon the Flemings, but it was received so roughly that it recoiled a little, and several good knights fell. In a few minutes, however, the other two divisions attacked the Flemings' flanks. The English knights, who were stationed on the right, seeing what was coming, had in vain tried to get the companies on this side to face round so as to oppose a front to the attack. The consequence was that the weight of the attack fell entirely upon the extreme end of the line, doubling it up and driving it in upon the centre, while the same took place on the right. Thus in a very few minutes the Flemings were driven into a helpless mass, inclosed on three sides, and so pressed in, that those in front could scarce use their arms, many falling stifled without having struck a blow.
The centre fought well, but their rough armour could not resist the better tempered swords of the French knights, which cleft through the iron caps as if they had been but leather, while the steel points of the lances pierced breast-and back-piece. But chiefly the knights fought with axes and heavy maces, beating the Flemings to the ground, while their own armour protected them effectually from any blows in return. The noise was tremendous. The shouts of the leaders were unheard in the din of the blows of sword and mace on helm and steel cap. Specially fierce was the French assault against the point where Van Artevelde's banner flew. He himself had dismounted, and was fighting in the front rank, and in the terrible melee was, erelong, struck down and trampled to death; and indeed to every man that fell by the French weapons many were suffocated by the press, and on the French side many valiant knights, after fighting their way into the thick of the battle, met with a similar fate.
When the French division bore down on the right flank the seven English knights with their men-at-arms had fallen back. Single-handed it would have been madness had they attempted to charge against the solid line of the French.
“Keep well back!” Sir James Pinder cried, “If we get mixed up with the foot-men we shall be powerless. Let us bide our time, and deliver a stroke where we see an opportunity.”
They continued, therefore, to rein back, as the Flemings were doubled up, powerless to give any aid, or to press forward towards the front line.
“Didst ever see so fearful a sight?” Sir James said. “Sure never before was so dense a mass. 'Tis like a sea raging round the edge of a black rock, and eating it away piecemeal. Were there but five thousand Flemings, they might do better; for now their very numbers prevent them from using their arms. Ah, here is a party with whom we may deal,” and he pointed to a small body of French knights who were about to fall on the rear of the Flemings. “Now, gentlemen, St. George, St. George! “
Putting spurs to their horses, the seven knights and their followers dashed at the French. The latter were also mounted, unlike the majority of their companions, who before attacking had dismounted, and handed their horses to their pages. The party were fully double the strength of the English, but the impetus of the charge broke their line, and in a moment a fierce melee began. Edgar and Albert fought side by side. The former, as no missiles were flying, had thrown up his vizor, the better to be able to see what was passing round him. He was fighting with a battle-axe, for a sword was a comparatively poor weapon against knightly armour. His three first opponents fell headlong, their helmets crushed in under the tremendous blows he dealt them. Then warding off a blow dealt at him, he turned swiftly and drove his horse at a French knight who was on the point of striking at Albert with a mace while the latter was engaged with another opponent.
The sudden shock rolled rider and horse over. He heard Hal Carter shout, “Look out, Sir Edgar!” and forcing his horse to leap aside, he struck off the head of a lance that would have caught him in the gorget, and an instant later swept a French knight from his saddle. He looked round. Three of his companions were already down, and although many more of the French had fallen, the position was well-nigh desperate.
“We must cut our way through,” he shouted, “or we shall be lost. Let all keep close together—forward!” and he and Albert, spurring their horses, fell furiously upon the French opposed to them.
Their splendid armour now proved invaluable; sword blows fell harmless on it, and lances glanced from its polished face. As he put spurs to his horse Edgar had dropped his vizor down again, for he wanted to strike now, and not to have to defend himself. With crushing blows he hewed his way through his opponents. The other two English knights kept close, and the men-at-arms fought as stoutly as their masters, until the party emerged from among their assailants. As they did so the knight next to Edgar reeled in his saddle. Edgar threw his arm round him, and supported him until they had ridden a short distance. Then, as they halted, he sprung from his horse and lowered h
im to the ground.
“Thanks,” the knight murmured, as he opened his vizor. “But I am hurt to death. Leave me here to die quietly, and look to yourselves. All is lost.”
Edgar saw that indeed his case was hopeless. A lance had pierced his body, and had broken short off; a minute later he had breathed his last. Edgar sprung upon his horse again, and looked round. Of the whole of their retainers but four remained, and all of these were wounded.
“Art hurt, Albert?” he asked.
“Naught to speak of, but I am sorely bruised, and my head rings with the blows I have had on my helmet.”
“And you, Sir Eustace? I fear that you have fared less well.”
“Wounded sorely,” the English knight said. “But I can sit my horse, and methinks that it were best to ride off at once, seeing the Flemings are flying. We can assuredly do no good by remaining.”
Edgar agreed. “Methinks that we had best ride for Sluys, and get there before the news of the defeat.”
As they rode off they looked back. Behind them were a host of flying men, and many of them were throwing away their steel caps and armour to run the more quickly. The battle had lasted only half an hour, but by that time nine thousand Flemings had fallen, of whom more than half had been suffocated by the press. The flight, however, was far more fatal than the battle, for the French, as soon as the fight was won, mounted their horses, and chased the Flemings so hotly that twenty-five thousand were killed. The body of Van Artevelde was found after the battle. It was without a wound, but was so trampled on as to be almost unrecognizable. His body was taken and hung on a tree.
As they galloped off Edgar reined back to Hal Carter, who was one of the survivors.
“I see that you are badly hurt, Hal. As soon as we get fairly away we will halt, and I will bandage your wounds.”
“They are of no great account, Sir Edgar. It was worth coming over from England to take part in such a fray; the worst part of it was that it did not last long enough.”
“It lasted too long for many of us, Hal. You saved my life by that warning shout you gave, for, most assuredly, I must have been borne from my saddle had the blow struck me, unawares.”
“It was a cowardly trick to charge a man when he was otherwise engaged,” Hal said. “But you paid him well for it, master; you fairly crushed his helmet in.”
Three miles on they halted in a wood to give the horses breathing time, when those unhurt bandaged the wounds of the others. It was found that Sir Eustace was so severely wounded that he could not go much farther, and that two of the men-at-arms were in as bad a case; the third was a Fleming.
“It were best to leave us here,” Sir Eustace said. “We cannot ride much farther.”
“That we will not do,” Edgar said. “Torhut is but four miles away. We can ride at an easy pace, for the Flemings will make for Courtray and Ghent, and the French will pursue in that direction. 'Tis not likely that any will ride so far south as this.”
“I have friends in Torhut,” the Fleming said. “I come from that neighbourhood, and I can bestow Sir Eustace, my master, in a place of safety, and will look after him and these two who can go no farther.”
“That will be well, indeed. Is it in the town itself?” Edgar asked.
“I have friends there, but an uncle of mine resides in a farm-house three quarters of a mile from the town. We can get help and shelter there.”
“That would be safer, good fellow,” Sir Eustace said. “I should not care to enter a town now, for some who saw us come in might be willing to gain favour with the French by saying where we were hidden. Moreover, we should be detained and questioned as to the battle. I have money wherewith to pay your uncle well for the pains to which he will be put. Well, let us forward; the sooner we are in shelter the better.”
They rode slowly now until they saw the steeple of Torhut, and then turned off the road, and in half an hour came to a farm-house. The Fleming had ridden on a short distance ahead.
“My uncle will take them in,” he said. “He has a loft in the top of his house, and can bestow them there safely, for none would be likely to suspect its existence, even if they searched the house. My uncle is a true Fleming, and would have taken them in without payment, but I say not that he will refuse what my master may be willing to pay.”
Ten minutes later, Edgar and Albert continued their way, followed now by Hal Carter alone. The latter had washed the blood from his face and armour, and had thrown a short cloak over his shoulders, so that they could pass without its being suspected that they had taken part in a desperate fray. After riding for some hours they stopped at a wayside inn, and, avoiding Bruges, rode the next day into Sluys, where they found a vessel sailing that evening for England. No rumour of the disastrous battle of Rosebeque had, as yet, reached Sluys; but the two young knights, calling upon the merchant who had entertained them at their first landing, informed him of what had happened.
“'Tis well that it is so,” he said, “for, in truth, the domination of the craftsmen of Ghent and the other great cities would have been far harder to bear than that of the earl, or of France, or of Burgundy. Already the taxes and imposts are four times as heavy as those laid upon us by the earl, and had they gained a victory these people would soon have come to exercise a tyranny altogether beyond bearing. 'Tis ever thus when the lower class gain dominion over the upper.”
CHAPTER XVI.
A WAR OF THE CHURCH
“You have been but a short time absent this voyage,” Sir Ralph said as his son and Edgar rode up to the castle.
“Truly we have been but a short time, father,” Albert said, “but we have seen much. Of course the news has not yet reached you, but the army of Flanders has been utterly broken by the French. Whether Van Artevelde was killed we know not, but of the fifty thousand men who marched to battle, we doubt whether half ever returned to their homes.”
“That was indeed a terrible defeat. And how bore you yourselves in the battle?”
“It was rough work, though short, father. Five other English knights were with us; four of these were killed, and one we left behind at a farm, grievously wounded. Each of us had two men-at-arms, and of the fourteen two were left behind wounded sorely, one remained in charge of his master and them, and Edgar's man here is the only one who rode to Sluys with us; the rest are dead. So, too, might we have been but for the strength and temper of our armour.”
“Did not the Flemings fight sturdily, then?”
“They fought sturdily for a time, but altogether without leader or order. They took up a strong position, but impatient of an hour's delay, marched from it to give battle, and being attacked on both flanks, as well as in front, were driven into a close mass, so that few could use their arms, and, were it only to find breathing space, they had to fly.”
“'Tis bad news, indeed. Had they prevailed, their alliance with us would have brought about great things, for Artevelde would have put Flanders under English protection, and between us we could have withstood all the attacks of France and Burgundy.”
“Think yon that Ghent will be taken, Edgar?”
“That I cannot say, Sir Ralph. However great their loss may be, the Ghentois are like to make an obstinate defence, judging from the way in which they withstood their earl with all Flanders at his back. They will know that they have no mercy to expect if they yield, and I believe that so long as there is a man left to wield arms the city will hold out. As to the other towns of Flanders, they are as fickle as the wind, and will all open their gates to the King of France, who, seeing that it is by his power alone that Flanders has been taken, will assuredly hold it as his own in the future.”
“Now that you have returned, it would be well, Edgar, that you and my son should practise with the lance. 'Tis a knightly weapon, and a knight should at least know how to use it well. There is a piece of ground but a quarter of a mile away that I have been looking at, and find that it will make a good tilting-ground, and I will teach you all that I know in the matter.”
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Edgar thankfully embraced the offer and, after going into the castle to pay his respects to the dame and her daughter, went home with Hal Carter, whose wounds were still sore.
The news that came from Flanders to England from time to time was bad. It was first heard how terrible had been the slaughter of the Flemings after the victory, and that in all thirty-four thousand had been killed. Then the news came that Courtray, although it opened its gates without resistance, had been first pillaged and then burnt, and that Bruges had surrendered, but had been only spared from pillage by the payment of a great sum of money. None of the other towns had offered any resistance, but Ghent had shut her gates, and the French, deeming that the operations of the siege would be too severe to be undertaken in winter, had marched away, their return being hastened by the news of an insurrection in France.
The king, however, had declared Flanders to be a portion of France, and the Earl of Flanders had done homage to him as his liege lord. The news of the merciless slaughter of the Flemings, and of the cruel treatment of Courtray, aroused great indignation in England, which was increased when it was heard that all the rich English merchants in Bruges had been obliged to fly for their lives, and that all other Englishmen found in the towns had been seized by the Earl of Flanders, and thrown into prison, and their goods confiscated.
