In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince by Everett-Green (the chimp paradox txt) 📗

stood around, well understanding the conflict going on in his 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 creeping to the horizon before the Cardinal was seen returning, and his face was grave 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 have to bring you. My royal master of his own will would have gladly listened to the terms to which your consent has been won, save for the vicious counsel of my lord Bishop of Chalons, Renaud Chauveau, who hates your nation so sorely that he has begged the King, even upon his bended knees, to slay every English soldier in this realm rather than suffer them to escape just when they had fallen into his power, rather than listen to overtures of submission without grasping the victory of blood which God had put into his hands. Wherefore my liege the King has vowed that he will consent to nothing unless you yourself, together with one hundred of your knights, will give yourselves up into his hand without condition."

Young Edward's eyes flashed fire. A look more like triumph than dismay crossed his noble face. Looking at the sorrowful Cardinal, with the light of battle in his eyes, he said in ringing tones:

"My Lord Cardinal, I thank you for your goodwill towards us. You are a good and holy man, an ambassador of peace, and as such you are fulfilling 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 his last demand, because it leaves me no choice but to fight him to the death; and ten thousand times would I rather fight than yield, albeit persuaded to submit to terms by your eloquent pleading. Return to your lord, and tell him that Edward of England defies him, and will meet him in 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 that they should fear them now.

"Go, my Lord Cardinal, and carry back my message of defiance. Ere another sun has set I hope to meet John of France face to face in the foremost of the fight!"

A shout of joy and triumph rose from a hundred throats as this answer was listened to by the Prince's knights, and the cheer was taken up and echoed by every soldier in the camp. It was the signal, as all knew well, that negotiation had failed; and the good Cardinal went sorrowfully back to the French lines, whilst the English soldiers redoubled their efforts at trenching the ground and strengthening their position -- efforts which had been carried on ceaselessly all through this 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 been his counsellor and adviser during the whole of the campaign, and by whose advice the coming battle was being arranged.

"Sire," he said, bending the knee before his youthful lord, "I long ago vowed a vow that if ever I should find myself upon the field of battle with the King of England or his son, I would be foremost in the fight for his defence. Sire, that day has now dawned -- or will dawn with tomorrow's sun. Grant me, I pray you, leave to be the first to charge into 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 wilt not go altogether alone?"

"I will choose out four knightly comrades," answered Sir James, "and together we will ride into the battle. I know well that there will be no lack of brave men ready and willing to fight at my side. Gaston de Brocas has claimed already to be one, and his brother ever strives to be at his side. But he has yet his spurs to win, and I may but take with me those 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 lofty courage as his by that knighthood he so well merits!"

And then and there upon the field of Poitiers Raymond received his knighthood, amid the cheers of the bystanders, from the hands of the Prince, on the eve of one of England's most glorious victories.

Gaston's eyes were shining with pride as he led his brother back to their 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 of knighthood won," he said, affectionately pressing his brother's hands. "And truly, as they all say, none were ever more truly won than thine have been, albeit thou wilt ever be more the saint than the warrior."

Raymond's eyes were bright. For Joan's sake rather than his own he rejoiced in his new honour; though every man prided himself upon that welcome distinction, especially when bestowed by the hand of King or Prince. And the thought of a speedy return to England and his true love there was as the elixir of life to Raymond, who was counting the days and 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 the death of old Navailles; and they had returned to Saut, their future home, and Raymond had gone with them. Greatly as he longed for England and Joan, his duty to the Prince kept him beside him till he should obtain his dismissal to see after his own private affairs. The Prince needed his faithful knights and followers about him in his projected expedition of the present year; and Gaston required his brother's help and counsel in setting to rights the affairs of his new kingdom, and in getting into better order a long-neglected estate and its people.

There had been work enough to fill their minds and hands for the whole time the Prince had been able to spare them from his side; and an interchange of letters between him and his lady love had helped Raymond to bear the long separation from her. She had assured him of her changeless devotion, of her present happiness and wellbeing, and had bidden him think first of his duty to the Prince, and second of his desire to rejoin her. They owed much to the Prince: all their present happiness and security were the outcome of his generous interposition on their behalf. Raymond's worldly affairs were not suffering by his absence. Master Bernard de Brocas was looking to that. He would find all well on his return to England; and it were better he should do his duty nobly by the Prince now, and return with him when they had subdued their enemies, than hasten at once to her side. In days to come it would grieve them to feel that they had at this juncture thought first of themselves, when King and country should have taken the foremost place.

So Raymond had taken the counsel thus given, and now was one of those to be foremost in the field on the morrow. No thought of fear was in his heart or Gaston's; peril was too much the order of the day to excite any but a passing sense of the uncertainty of human life. They had come unscathed through so much, and Raymond had so long been said to bear a charmed life, that he and Gaston had alike ceased to tremble before the issue of a battle. Well armed and well mounted, and versed in every art of attack and defence, the young knights felt no personal fear, and only longed to come forth with honour from the contest, whatever else their fate might be.

Monday morning dawned, and the two opposing armies were all in readiness for the attack. The fighting began almost by accident by the bold action of a Gascon knight, Eustace d'Ambrecicourt, who rode out alone towards what was called the "battle of the marshals," and was met by Louis de Recombes with his silver shield, whom he forthwith unhorsed. This provoked a rapid advance of the marshals' battle, and the fighting began in 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 the French in another part of the field, giving no quarter, taking no prisoners, but performing such prodigies of valour as struck terror into the breasts of the foe. The French army (with the exception of three hundred horsemen, whose mission was to break the ranks of the bowmen) had been ordered, on account of the nature of the ground, all to fight on foot; and when the bold knight and his four chosen companions came charging in upon them, wheeling their battle-axes round their heads and flashing through the ranks like a meteor, the terrified and impressionable Frenchmen cried out that St. George himself had appeared to fight against them, and an unreasoning panic seized upon them.

Flights of arrows from the dreaded English longbow added immeasurably to their distress and bewilderment. The three hundred horsemen utterly failed in their endeavour to approach these archers, securely posted behind the hedges, and protected by the trenches they had dug. The arrows sticking in the horses rendered them perfectly wild and unmanageable, and turning back upon their own comrades, they threw the ranks behind into utter confusion, trampling to death many of the footmen, and increasing the panic tenfold.

Then seeing the utter confusion of his foes, the Prince charged in amongst them, dealing death and destruction wherever he went. The terror of the French increased momentarily; and the division under the Duke of Normandy, that had not even taken any part as yet in the battle, rushed to their horses, mounted and fled without so much as striking a blow.

The King of France, however, behaved with far greater gallantry than either his son or the majority of his knights and nobles, and the battle that he led was long and fiercely contested.

If, as the chronicler tells us, one-fourth of his soldiers had shown the same bravery as he did, the fortunes of the day would have been vastly different; but though personally brave, he was no genius in war, and his fatal determination to fight the battle on foot was a gross blunder in military tactics. Even when he and his division were being charged by the 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, and himself did the same, fighting with his axe like a common soldier; whilst his little son Philip crouched behind him, narrowly watching his assailants, and crying out words of warning to his father as he saw blows dealt at him from right or left.

The French were driven back to the very gates of Poitiers, where a great slaughter ensued; for those gates were now shut against them, and they had nowhere else to fly. The battle had begun early in the morning, and by noon the trumpets were sounding to recall the English from the pursuit of their flying foes.

Such a victory and such vast numbers of noble prisoners almost bewildered even the victors themselves; and the Prince was anxious to assemble his knights once more about him, to learn some of the details of the issue of the day. That the French King had either been killed or made prisoner appeared certain, for it was confidently asserted that he had not left the field; but for some time the confusion was so great that it was impossible to ascertain what had actually happened, and the Prince, who had gone to his tent to take some refreshment after the labours of the day, had others than his high-born prisoners to think for.

"Who has seen Sir James Audley -- gallant Sir James?" he asked, looking round upon the circle of faces about him and missing that of the one he perhaps loved best amongst his knights. "Who has seen him since his gallant charge that made all men hold their breath with wonder? I would fain reward him for that gallant example he gave to our brave soldiers at the beginning of the day."

News was soon brought that Sir James had been badly wounded, and had been