Saint George for England
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G. A. Henty >> Saint George for England
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"Thanks, your Royal Highness, for your generosity," Walter replied, "but
there is no ransom to be paid."
And he then proceeded to narrate the incidents of his captivity at Holbeaut
and his escape from the castle. His narration was frequently interrupted by
exclamations of surprise and indignation from the prince and knights
present.
"Well, this well-nigh passes all belief," the prince exclaimed when he had
concluded. "It is an outrage upon all laws of chivalry and honour. What
could have induced this caitiff knight, instead of treating you with
courtesy and honour until your ransom arrived, to lodge you in a foul
dungeon, where, had you not made your escape, your death would have been
brought about that very night by the rising water? Could it be, think you,
that his brain is distraught by some loss or injury which may have befallen
him at our hands during the war and worked him up to a blind passion of
hatred against all Englishmen?"
"I think not that, your Royal Highness," Walter replied. "His manner was
cool and deliberate, and altogether free from any signs of madness.
Moreover, it would seem that he had specially marked me down beforehand,
since, as I have told you, he had bargained with the Count of Evreux for
the possession of my person should I escape with life at the capture of the
castle. It seems rather as if he must have had some private enmity against
me, although what the cause may be I cannot imagine, seeing that I have
never, to my knowledge, before met him, and have only heard his name by
common report.
"Whatever be the cause," the prince said, "we will have satisfaction for
it, and I will beg the king, my father, to write at once to Phillip of
Valois protesting against the treatment that you have received, and
denouncing Sir Phillip of Holbeaut as a base and dishonoured knight, whom,
should he fall into our hands, we will commit at once to the hangman.
Upon the following day Walter was called before the king, and related to
him in full the incidents of the siege and of his captivity and escape; and
the same day King Edward sent off a letter to Phillip of Valois denouncing
Sir Phillip Holbeaut as a dishonoured knight, and threatening retaliation
upon the French prisoners in his hands.
A fortnight later an answer was received from the King of France saying
that he had inquired into the matter, and had sent a seneschal, who had
questioned Sir Phillip Holbeaut and some of the men-at-arms in the castle,
and that he found that King Edward had been grossly imposed upon by a
fictitious tale. Sir Walter Somers had, he found, been treated with all
knightly courtesy, and believing him to be an honourable knight and true to
his word, but slight watch had been kept over him. He had basely taken
advantage of this trust, and with the man-at-arms with him had escaped from
the castle in order to avoid payment of his ransom, and had now invented
these gross and wicked charges against Sir Phillip Holbeaut as a cloak to
his own dishonour.
Walter was furious when he heard the contents of this letter, and the king
and Black Prince were no less indignant. Although they doubted him not for
a moment, Walter begged that Ralph might be brought before them and
examined strictly as to what had taken place, in order that they might see
that his statements tallied exactly with those he had made.
When this had been done Walter obtained permission from the king to
despatch a cartel to Sir Phillip de Holbeaut denouncing him as a perjured
and dishonoured knight and challenging him to meet him in mortal conflict
at any time and place that he might name. At the same time the king
despatched a letter to Phillip of Valois saying that the statements of the
French knight and followers were wholly untrue, and begging that a time
might be appointed for the meeting of the two knights in the lists.
To this King Phillip replied that he had ordered all private quarrels in
France to be laid aside during the progress of the war, and that so long as
an English foot remained upon French soil he would give no countenance to
his knights throwing away the lives which they owed to France, in private
broils.
"You must wait, Sir Walter, you see," the king said, "until you may
perchance meet him in the field of battle. In the mean time, to show how
lightly I esteem the foul charge brought against you, and how much I hold
and honour the bravery which you showed in defending the castle which my
son the prince entrusted to you, as well as upon other occasions, I hereby
promote you to the rank of knight-banneret."
Events now passed slowly before Calais. Queen Philippa and many of her
ladies crossed the Channel and joined her husband, and these added much to
the gaiety of the life in camp. The garrison at Calais was, it was known,
in the sorest straits for the want of food, and at last the news came that
the King of France, with a huge army of 200,000 men, was moving to its
relief. They had gathered at Hesdin, at which rendezvous the king had
arrived in the early part of April; but it was not until the 27th of July
that the whole army was collected, and marching by slow steps advanced
towards the English position.
King Edward had taken every precaution to guard all the approaches to the
city. The ground was in most places too soft and sandy to admit of the
construction of defensive works; but the fleet was drawn up close inshore
to cover the line of sand-hills by the sea with arrows and war machines,
while the passages of the marshes, which extended for a considerable
distance round the town, were guarded by the Earl of Lancaster and a body
of chosen troops, while the other approaches to the city were covered by
the English camp.
The French reconnoitering parties found no way open to attack the English
unless under grievous disadvantages. The Cardinals of Tusculum, St. John,
and St. Paul endeavoured to negotiate terms of peace, and commissioners on
both sides met. The terms offered by Phillip were, however, by no means so
favourable as Edward, after his own victorious operations and those of his
armies in Brittany and Guienne, had a right to expect and the negotiations
were broken off.
The following day the French king sent in a message to Edward saying that
he had examined the ground in every direction in order to advance and give
battle, but had found no means of doing so. He therefore summoned the king
to come forth from the marshy ground in which he was encamped and to fight
in the open plain; and he offered to send four French knights, who, with
four English of the same rank, should choose a fair plain in the
neighbourhood, according to the usages of chivalry. Edward had little over
30,000 men with him; but the same evening that Phillip's challenge was
received a body of 17,000 Flemings and English, detached from an army which
had been doing good service on the borders of Flanders, succeeded in
passing round the enemy's host and in effecting a junction with the king's
army. Early the next morning, after having consulted with his officers,
Edward returned an answer to the French king, saying that he agreed to his
proposal, and enclosed a safe-conduct for any four French knights who might
be appointed to arrange with the same number of English the place of
battle.
The odds were indeed enormous, the French being four to one; but Edward,
after the success of Cressy, which had been won by the Black Prince's
division, which bore a still smaller proportion to the force engaging it,
might well feel confident in the valour of his troops. His envoys, on
arriving at the French camp, found that Phillip had apparently changed his
mind. He declined to discuss the matter with which they were charged, and
spoke only of the terms upon which Edward would be willing to raise the
siege of Calais. As they had no authority on this subject the English
knights returned to their camp, where the news was received with great
disappointment, so confident did all feel in their power to defeat the huge
host of the French. But even greater was the astonishment the next morning
when, before daylight, the tents of the French were seen in one great
flame, and it was found that the king and all his host were retreating at
full speed. The Earls of Lancaster and Northampton, with a large body of
horse at once started in pursuit, and harassed the retreating army on its
march towards Amiens.
No satisfactory reasons ever have been assigned for this extraordinary step
on the part of the French king. He had been for months engaged in
collecting a huge army, and he had now an opportunity of fighting the
English in a fair field with a force four times as great as their own. The
only means indeed of accounting for his conduct is by supposing him
affected by temporary aberration of mind, which many other facts in his
history render not improbable. The fits of rage so frequently recorded of
him border upon madness, and a number of strange actions highly detrimental
to his own interests which he committed can only be accounted for as the
acts of a diseased mind. This view has been to some extent confirmed by the
fact that less than half a century afterwards insanity declared itself
among his descendants.
A few hours after the departure of the French the French standard was
lowered on the walls of Calais, and news was brought to Edward that the
governor was upon the battlements and desired to speak with some officers
of the besieging army. Sir Walter Manny and Lord Bisset were sent to
confer with him, and found that his object was to obtain the best terms he
could. The English knights, knowing the determination of the king on the
subject, were forced to tell him that no possibility existed of conditions
being granted, but that the king demanded their unconditional surrender,
reserving to himself entirely the right whom to pardon and whom to put to
death.
The governor remonstrated on the severe terms, and said that rather than
submit to them he and his soldiers would sally out and die sword in hand.
Sir Walter Manny found the king inexorable. The strict laws of war in those
days justified the barbarous practise of putting to death the garrison of a
town captured under such circumstances. Calais had been for many years a
nest of pirates, and vessels issuing from its port had been a scourge to
the commerce of England and Flanders, and the king was fully determined to
punish it severely. Sir Walter Manny interceded long and boldly, and
represented to the king that none of his soldiers would willingly defend a
town on his behalf from the day on which he put to death the people of
Calais, as beyond doubt the French would retaliate in every succeeding
siege. The other nobles and knights joined their entreaties to those of Sir
Walter Manny, and the king finally consented to yield in some degree. He
demanded that six of the most notable burghers of the town, with bare heads
and feet, and with ropes about their necks and the keys of the fortress in
their hands, should deliver themselves up for execution. On these
conditions he agreed to spare the rest. With these terms Sir Walter Manny
returned to Sir John of Vienne.
The governor left the battlements, and proceeding to the market-place
ordered the bell to be rung. The famished and despairing citizens gathered
a haggard crowd to hear their doom. A silence followed the narration of the
hard conditions of surrender by the governor, and sobs and cries alone
broke the silence which succeeded. Then Eustace St. Pierre, the wealthiest
and most distinguished of the citizens, came forward and offered himself as
one of the victims, saying, "Sad pity and shame would it be to let all of
our fellow- citizens die of famine or the sword when means could be found
to save them." John of Aire, James and Peter De Vissant, and another whose
name has not come down to us, followed his example, and stripping to their
shirts set out for the camp, Sir John of Vienne, who, from a late wound,
was unable to walk, riding at their head on horseback. The whole population
accompanied them weeping bitterly until they came to the place where Sir
Walter Manny was awaiting them. Here the crowd halted, and the knight,
promising to do his best to save them, led them to the tent where the king
had assembled all his nobles around him. When the tidings came that the
burghers of Calais had arrived, Edward issued out with his retinue,
accompanied by Queen Philippa and the Black Prince.
"Behold, Sire," Sir Walter Manny said, "the representatives of the town of
Calais!"
The king made no reply while John of Vienne surrendered his sword, and
kneeling with the burghers, said, "Gentle lord and king; behold, we six who
were once the greatest citizens and merchants of Calais, bring you the keys
of the town and castle, and give ourselves up to your pleasure, placing
ourselves in the state in which you see us by our own free-will to save the
rest of the people of the city, who have already suffered many ills. We
pray you, therefore, to have pity and mercy upon us for the sake of your
high nobleness."
All present were greatly affected at this speech, and at the aspect of men
who thus offered their lives for their fellow-citizens. The king's
countenance alone remained unchanged, and he ordered them to be taken to
instant execution. Then Sir Walter Manny and all the nobles with tears
besought the king to have mercy, not only for the sake of the citizens, but
for that of his own fame, which would be tarnished by so cruel a deed.
"Silence, Sir Walter!" cried the king. "Let the executioner be called. The
men of Calais have put to death so many of my subjects that I will also put
these men to death."
At this moment Queen Philippa, who had been weeping bitterly, cast herself
upon her knees before the king. "Oh, gentle lord," she cried, "since I have
repassed the seas to see you I have neither asked or required anything at
your hand; now, then, I pray you humbly, and require as a boon, that for
the sake of the Son of Mary, and for the love of me, you take these men to
mercy.
The king stood for a moment in silence, and then said:
"Ah! lady, I would that you had been other where than here; but you beg of
me so earnestly I must not refuse you, though I grant your prayer with
pain. I give them to you; take them, and do your will."
Then the queen rose from her knees, and bidding the burghers rise, she
caused clothing and food to be given them, and sent them away free.
Sir Walter Manny, with a considerable body of men-at-arms, now took
possession of the town of Calais. The anger of the king soon gave way to
better feelings; all the citizens, without exception, were fed by his
bounty. Such of them as preferred to depart instead of swearing fealty to
the English monarch were allowed to carry away what effects they could bear
upon their persons and were conducted in safety to the French town of
Guisnes. Eustace de St. Pierre was granted almost all the possessions he
had formerly held in Calais, and also a considerable pension; and he and
all who were willing to remain were well and kindly treated. The number was
large, for the natural indignation which they felt at their base desertion
by the French king induced very many of the citizens to remain and become
subjects of Edward. The king issued a proclamation inviting English traders
and others to come across and take up their residence in Calais, bestowing
upon them the houses and lands of the French who had left. Very many
accepted the invitation, and Calais henceforth and for some centuries
became virtually an English town.
A truce was now, through the exertions of the pope's legates, made between
England and France, the terms agreed on being very similar to those of the
previous treaty; and when all his arrangements were finished Edward
returned with his queen to England, having been absent eighteen months,
during which time almost unbroken success had attended his arms, and the
English name had reached a position of respect and honour in the eyes of
Europe far beyond that at which it previously stood.
CHAPTER XVIII: THE BLACK DEATH
The court at Westminster during the few months which followed the capture
of Calais was the most brilliant in Europe. Tournaments and fetes followed
each other in rapid succession, and to these knights came from all parts.
So great was the reputation of King Edward that deputies came from Germany,
where the throne was now vacant, to offer the crown of that kingdom to him.
The king declined the offer, for it would have been impossible indeed for
him to have united the German crown with that of England, which he already
held, and that of France, which he claimed.
Some months after his return to England the Black Prince asked his father
as a boon that the hand of his ward Edith Vernon should be bestowed upon
the prince's brave follower Sir Walter Somers, and as Queen Philippa, in
the name of the lady's mother, seconded the request, the king at once
acceded to it. Edith was now sixteen, an age at which, in those days, a
young lady was considered to be marriageable, and the wedding took place
with great pomp and ceremony at Westminster; the king himself giving away
the bride, and bestowing, as did the prince and Queen Philippa, many costly
presents upon the young couple. After taking part in several of the
tournaments, Walter went with his bride and Dame Vernon down to their
estates, and were received with great rejoicing by the tenantry, the older
of whom well remembered Walter's father and mother, and were rejoiced at
finding that they were again to become the vassals of one of the old
family. Dame Vernon was greatly loved by her tenantry; but the latter had
looked forward with some apprehension to the marriage of the young heiress,
as the character of the knight upon whom the king might bestow her hand
would greatly affect the happiness and well being of his tenants.
Sir James Carnegie had not returned to England after the fall of Calais; he
perceived that he was in grave disfavour with the Black Prince, and
guessed, as was the case, that some suspicion had fallen on him in
reference to the attack upon Walter in the camp, and to the strange attempt
which had been made to destroy him by Sir Phillip Holbeaut. He had,
therefore, for a time taken service with the Count of Savoy, and was away
from England, to the satisfaction of Walter and Dame Vernon, when the
marriage took place; for he had given proofs of such a malignity of
disposition that both felt, that although his succession to the estates was
now hopelessly barred, yet that he might at any moment attempt some
desperate deed to satisfy his feeling of disappointment and revenge.
In spite of the gaiety of the court of King Edward a cloud hung over the
kingdom; for it was threatened by a danger far more terrible than any
combination of foes - a danger which no gallantry upon the part of her king
or warriors availed anything. With a slow and terrible march the enemy was
advancing from the East, where countless hosts had been slain. India,
Arabia, Syria, and Armenia had been well-nigh depopulated. In no country
which the dread foe had invaded had less than two-thirds of the population
been slain; in some nine-tenths had perished. All sorts of portents were
reported to have accompanied its appearance in the East; where it was said
showers of serpents had fallen, strange and unknown insects had appeared in
the atmosphere, and clouds of sulphurous vapour had issued from the earth
and enveloped whole provinces and countries. For two or three years the
appearance of this scourge had been heralded by strange atmospheric
disturbances; heavy rains and unusual floods, storms of thunder and
lightning of unheard-of violence, hail-showers of unparalleled duration and
severity, had everywhere been experienced, while in Italy and Germany
violent earthquake shocks had been felt, and that at places where no
tradition existed of previous occurrences of the same kind.
From Asia it had spread to Africa and to Europe, affecting first the
sea-shores and creeping inland by the course of the rivers. Greece first
felt its ravages, and Italy was not long in experiencing them. In Venice
more than 100,000 persons perished in a few months, and thence spreading
over the whole peninsula, not a town escaped the visitation. At Florence
60,000 people were carried off, and at Lucca and Genoa, in Sicily,
Sardinia, and Corsica it raged with equal violence. France was assailed by
way of Provence, and Avignon suffered especially. Of the English college at
that place not an individual was left, and 120 persons died in a single day
in that small city. Paris lost upwards of 50,000 of its inhabitants, while
90,000 were swept away in Lubeck, and 1,200,000 died within a year of its
first appearance in Germany.
In England the march of the pestilence westward was viewed with deep
apprehension, and the approaching danger was brought home to the people by
the death of the Princess Joan, the king's second daughter. She was
affianced to Peter, the heir to the throne of Spain; and the bride, who had
not yet accomplished her fourteenth year, was sent over to Bordeaux with
considerable train of attendants in order to be united there to her
promised husband. Scarcely had she reached Bordeaux when she was attacked
by the pestilence and died in a few hours. A few days later the news spread
through the country that the disease had appeared almost simultaneously at
several of the seaports in the south-west of England. Thence with great
rapidity it spread through the kingdom; proceeding through Gloucestershire
and Oxfordshire it broke out in London, and the ravages were no less severe
than they had been on the Continent, the very lowest estimate being that
two-thirds of the population were swept away. Most of those attacked died
within a few hours of the seizure. If they survived for two days they
generally rallied, but even then many fell into a state of coma from which
they never awoke.
No words can describe the terror and dismay caused by this the most
destructive plague of which there is any record in history. No remedies
were of the slightest avail against it; flight was impossible, for the
loneliest hamlets suffered as severely as crowded towns, and frequently not
a single survivor was left. Men met the pestilence in various moods: the
brave with fortitude, the pious with resignation, the cowardly and
turbulent with outbursts of despair and fury. Among the lower classes the
wildest rumours gained credence. Some assigned the pestilence to
witchcraft, others declared that the waters of the wells and streams had
been poisoned. Serious riots occurred in many places, and great numbers of
people fell victims to the fury of the mob under the suspicion of being
connected in some way with the ravages of the pestilence. The Jews, ever
the objects of popular hostility, engendered by ignorance and superstition,
were among the chief sufferers. Bands of marauders wandered through the
country plundering the houses left empty by the death of all their
occupants, and from end to end death and suffering were universal.
Although all classes had suffered heavily the ravages of the disease were,
as is always the case, greater among the poor than among the rich, the
insanitary conditions of their life, and their coarser and commoner food
rendering them more liable to its influence; no rank, however, was
exempted, and no less than three Archbishops of Canterbury were carried off
in succession by the pestilence within a year of its appearance.
During the months which succeeded his marriage Sir Walter Somers lived
quietly and happily with his wife at Westerham. It was not until late in
the year that the plague approached the neighbourhood. Walter had
determined to await its approach there. He had paid a few short visits to
the court, where every effort was made by continuous gaiety to keep up the
spirits of the people and prevent them from brooding over the approaching
pestilence; but when it was at hand Walter and his wife agreed that they
would rather share the lot of their tenants, whom their presence and
example might support and cheer in their need, than return to face it in
London. One morning when they were at breakfast a frightened servant
brought in the news that the disease had appeared in the village, that
three persons had been taken ill on the previous night, that two had
already died, and that several others had sickened.
"The time has come, my children," Dame Vernon said calmly, "the danger so
long foreseen is at hand, now let us face it as we agreed to do. It has
been proved that flight is useless, since nowhere is there escape from the
plague; here, at least, there shall be no repetition of the terrible scenes
we have heard of elsewhere, where the living have fled in panic and allowed
the stricken to die unattended. We have already agreed that we will set the
example to our people by ourselves going down and administering to the
sick."
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