Saint George for England
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G. A. Henty >> Saint George for England
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"It is hard," Walter said, rising and pacing up and down the room, "to let
Edith go into it."
"Edith will do just the same as you do," his wife said firmly. "Were it
possible that all in this house might escape, there might be a motive for
turning coward, but seeing that no household is spared, there is, as we
agreed, greater danger in flying from the pestilence than facing it
firmly."
Walter sighed.
"You are right," he said, "but it wrings my heart to see you place yourself
in danger."
"Were we out of danger here, Walter, it might be so," Edith replied gently;
"but since there is no more safety in the castle than in the cottage, we
must face death whether it pleases us or not, and it were best to do so
bravely."
"So be it," Walter said; "may the God of heaven watch over us all! Now,
mother, do you and Edith busy yourselves in preparing broths, strengthening
drinks, and medicaments. I will go down at once to the village and see how
matters stand there and who are in need. We have already urged upon all our
people to face the danger bravely, and if die they must, to die bravely
like Christians, and not like coward dogs. When you have prepared your
soups and cordials come down and meet me in the village, bringing Mabel and
Janet, your attendants, to carry the baskets."
Ralph, who was now installed as major-domo in the castle, at once set out
with Walter. They found the village in a state of panic. Women were sitting
crying despairingly at their doors. Some were engaged in packing their
belongings in carts preparatory to flight, some wandered aimlessly about
wringing their hands, while others went to the church, whose bells were
mournfully tolling the dirge of the departed. Walter's presence soon
restored something like order and confidence; his resolute tone cheered the
timid and gave hope to the despairing. Sternly he rebuked those preparing
to fly, and ordered them instantly to replace their goods in their houses.
Then he went to the priest and implored him to cause the tolling of the
bell to cease.
"There is enough," he said, "in the real danger present to appall even the
bravest, and we need no bell to tell us that death is among us. The dismal
tolling is enough to unnerve the stoutest heart, and if we ring for all who
die its sounds will never cease while the plague is among us; therefore,
father, I implore you to discontinue it. Let there be services held daily
in the church, but I beseech you strive in your discourses to cheer the
people rather than to depress them, and to dwell more upon the joys that
await those who die as Christian men and women than upon the sorrows of
those who remain behind. My wife and mother will anon be down in the
village and will strive to cheer and comfort the people, and I look to you
for aid in this matter."
The priest, who was naturally a timid man, nevertheless nerved himself to
carry out Walter's suggestions, and soon the dismal tones of the bell
ceased to be heard in the village.
Walter despatched messengers to all the outlying farms desiring his tenants
to meet him that afternoon at the castle in order that measures might be
concerted for common aid and assistance. An hour later Dame Vernon and
Edith came down and visited all the houses where the plague had made its
appearance, distributing their soups, and by cheering and comforting words
raising the spirits of the relatives of the sufferers.
The names of all the women ready to aid in the general work of nursing were
taken down, and in the afternoon at the meeting at the castle the full
arrangements were completed. Work was to be carried on as usual in order to
occupy men's minds and prevent them from brooding over the ravages of the
plague. Information of any case that occurred was to be sent to the castle,
where soups and medicines were to be obtained. Whenever more assistance was
required than could be furnished by the inmates of a house another woman
was to be sent to aid. Boys were told off as messengers to fetch food and
other matters as required from the castle.
So, bravely and firmly, they prepared to meet the pestilence; it spread
with terrible severity. Scarce a house which did not lose some of its
inmates, while in others whole families were swept away. All day Walter and
his wife and Dame Vernon went from house to house, and although they could
do nothing to stem the progress of the pestilence, their presence and
example supported the survivors and prevented the occurrence of any of the
panic and disorder which in most places accompanied it.
The castle was not exempt from the scourge. First some of the domestics
were seized, and three men and four women died. Walter himself was
attacked, but he took it lightly, and three days after the seizure passed
into a state of convalescence. Dame Vernon was next attacked, and expired
six hours after the commencement of the seizure. Scarcely was Walter upon
his feet than Ralph, who had not for a moment left his bedside, was seized,
but he too, after being at death's door for some hours, turned the corner.
Lastly Edith sickened.
By this time the scourge had done its worst in the village, and
three-fifths of the population had been swept away. All the male retainers
in the castle had died, and the one female who survived was nursing her
dying mother in the village.
Edith's attack was a very severe one. Walter, alone now, for Ralph,
although convalescent, had not yet left his bed, sat by his wife's bedside
a prey to anxiety and grief; for although she had resisted the first attack
she was now, thirty-six hours after it had seized her, fast sinking.
Gradually her sight and power of speech faded, and she sank into the state
of coma which was the prelude of death, and lay quiet and motionless,
seeming as if life had already departed. Suddenly Walter was surprised by
the sound of many heavy feet ascending the stairs. He went out into the
ante-room to learn the cause of this strange tumult, when five armed men,
one of whom was masked, rushed into the room. Walter caught up his sword
from the table.
"Ruffians," he exclaimed, "how dare you desecrate the abode of death?"
Without a word the men sprang upon him. For a minute he defended himself
against their attacks, but he was still weak, his guard was beaten down,
and a blow felled him to the ground.
"Now settle her," the masked man exclaimed, and the band rushed into the
adjoining room. They paused, however, at the door at the sight of the
lifeless figure on the couch.
"We are saved that trouble," one said, "we have come too late."
The masked figure approached the couch and bent over the figure.
"Yes," he said, "she is dead, and so much the better."
Then he returned with the others to Walter.
"He breathes yet," he said. "He needs a harder blow than that you gave him
to finish him. Let him lie here for a while, while you gather your booty
together; then we will carry him off. There is scarcely a soul alive in the
country round, and none will note us as we pass. I would not despatch him
here, seeing that his body would be found with wounds upon it, and even in
these times some inquiry might be made; therefore it were best to finish
him elsewhere. When he is missed it will be supposed that he went mad at
the death of his wife, and has wandered out and died, may be in the woods,
or has drowned himself in a pond or stream. Besides, I would that before
he dies he should know what hand has struck the blow, and that my
vengeance, which he slighted and has twice escaped, has overtaken him at
last."
After ransacking the principal rooms and taking all that was valuable, the
band of marauders lifted the still insensible body of Walter, and carrying
it down- stairs flung it across a horse. One of the ruffians mounted behind
it, and the others also getting into their saddles the party rode away.
They were mistaken, however, in supposing that the Lady Edith was dead. She
was indeed very nigh the gates of death, and had it not been for the
disturbance would assuredly have speedily entered them. The voice of her
husband raised in anger, the clash of steel, followed by the heavy fall,
had awakened her deadened brain. Consciousness had at once returned to her,
but as yet no power of movement. As at a great distance she had heard the
words of those who entered her chamber, and had understood their import.
More and more distinctly she heard their movements about the room as they
burst open her caskets and appropriated her jewels, but it was not until
silence was restored that the gathering powers of life asserted themselves;
then with a sudden rush the blood seemed to course through her veins, her
eyes opened, and her tongue was loosed, and with a scream she sprang up and
stood by the side of her bed.
Sustained as by a supernatural power she hurried into the next room. A pool
of blood on the floor showed her that what she had heard had not been a
dream or the fiction of a disordered brain. Snatching up a cloak of her
husband's which lay on a couch, she wrapped it round her, and with hurried
steps made her way along the passages until she reached the apartment
occupied by Ralph. The latter sprang up in bed with a cry of astonishment.
He had heard but an hour before from Walter that all hope was gone, and
thought for an instant that the appearance was an apparition from the dead.
The ghastly pallor of the face, the eyes burning with a strange light, the
flowing hair, and disordered appearance of the girl might well have alarmed
one living in even less superstitious times, and Ralph began to cross
himself hastily and to mutter a prayer when recalled to himself by the
sound of Edith's voice.
"Quick, Ralph!" she said, "arise and clothe yourself. Hasten, for your
life. My lord's enemies have fallen upon him and wounded him grievously,
even if they have not slain him, and have carried him away. They would have
slain me also had they not thought I was already dead. Arise and mount,
summon everyone still alive in the village, and follow these murderers. I
will pull the alarm-bell of the castle."
Ralph sprang from his bed as Edith left. He had heard the sound of many
footsteps in the knight's apartments, but had deemed them those of the
priest and his acolytes come to administer the last rites of the church to
his dying mistress. Rage and anxiety for his master gave strength to his
limbs. He threw on a few clothes and rushed down to the stables, where the
horses stood with great piles of forage and pails of water before them,
placed there two days before, by Walter when their last attendant died.
Without waiting to saddle it, Ralph sprang upon the back of one of the
animals, and taking the halters of four others started at a gallop down to
the village.
His news spread like wild fire, for the ringing of the alarm-bell of the
castle had drawn all to their doors and prepared them for something
strange. Some of the men had already taken their arms and were making their
way up to the castle when they met Ralph. There were but five men in the
village who had altogether escaped the pestilence; others had survived its
attacks, but were still weak. Horses there were in plenty. The five men
mounted at once, with three others who, though still weak, were able to
ride.
So great was the excitement that seven women who had escaped the disease
armed themselves with their husbands' swords and leaped on horseback,
declaring that, women though they were, they would strike a blow for their
beloved lord, who had been as an angel in the village during the plague.
Thus it was scarcely more than ten minutes after the marauders had left the
castle before a motley band, fifteen strong, headed by Ralph, rode off in
pursuit, while some of the women of the village hurried up to the castle to
comfort Edith with the tidings that the pursuit had already commenced.
Fortunately a lad in the fields had noticed the five men ride away from the
castle, and was able to point out the direction they had taken.
At a furious gallop Ralph and his companions tore across the country. Mile
after mile was passed. Once or twice they gained news from labourers in the
field of the passage of those before them, and knew that they were on the
right track. They had now entered a wild and sparsely inhabited country.
It was broken and much undulated, so that although they knew that the band
they were pursuing were but a short distance ahead they had not yet caught
sight of them, and they hoped that, having no reason to dread any immediate
pursuit, these would soon slacken their pace. This expectation was
realized, for on coming over a brow they saw the party halted at a
turf-burner's cottage in the hollow below. Three of the men had dismounted;
two of them were examining the hoof of one of the horses, which had
apparently cast a shoe or trodden upon a stone. Ralph had warned his party
to make no sound when they came upon the fugitives. The sound of the
horses' hoofs was deadened by the turf, and they were within a hundred
yards of the marauders before they were perceived; then Ralph uttered a
shout and brandishing their swords the party rode down at a headlong
gallop.
The dismounted men leaped to their saddles and galloped off at full speed,
but their pursuers were now close upon them. Ralph and two of his
companions, who were mounted upon Walter's best horses, gained upon them at
every stride. Two of them were overtaken and run through.
The man who bore Walter before him, finding himself being rapidly
overtaken, threw his burden on to the ground just as the leader of the
party had checked his horse and was about to deliver a sweeping blow at the
insensible body.
With a curse at his follower for ridding himself of it, he again galloped
on. The man's act was unavailing to save himself, for he was overtaken and
cut down before he had ridden many strides; then Ralph and his party
instantly reined up to examine the state of Walter, and the two survivors
of the band of murderers continued their flight unmolested.
CHAPTER XIX: BY LAND AND SEA
Walter was raised from the ground, water was fetched from the cottage, and
the blood washed from his head by Ralph, aided by two of the women. It had
at once been seen that he was still living, and Ralph on examining the
wound joyfully declared that no great harm was done.
"Had Sir Walter been strong and well," he said, "such a clip as this would
not have knocked him from his feet, but he would have answered it with a
blow such as I have often seen him give in battle; but he was but barely
recovering and was as weak as a girl. He is unconscious from loss of blood
and weakness. I warrant me that when he opens his eyes and hears that the
lady Edith has risen from her bed and came to send me to his rescue, joy
will soon bring the blood into his cheeks again. Do one of you run to the
hut and see if they have any cordial waters; since the plague has been
raging there are few houses but have laid in a provision in case the
disease should seize them."
The man soon returned with a bottle of cordial water compounded of
rosemary, lavender, and other herbs. By this time Walter had opened his
eyes. The cordial was poured down his throat, and he was presently able to
speak.
"Be of good cheer, Sir Walter," Ralph said; "three of your rascally
assailants lie dead, and the other two have fled; but I have better news
still for you. Lady Edith, who you told me lay unconscious and dying, has
revived. The din of the conflict seems to have reached her ears and
recalled her to life, and the dear lady came to my room with the news that
you were carried off, and then, while I was throwing on my clothes, roused
the village to your assistance by ringing the alarm-bell. Rarely frightened
I was when she came in, for methought at first it was her spirit."
The good news, as Ralph had predicted, effectually roused Walter, and
rising to his feet he declared himself able to mount and ride back at once.
Ralph tried to persuade him to wait until they had formed a litter of
boughs, but Walter would not allow it.
"I would not tarry an instant," he said, "for Edith will be full of anxiety
until I return. Why, Ralph, do you think that I am a baby? Why, you
yourself were but this morning unable to walk across the room, and here you
have been galloping and fighting on my behalf."
"In faith," Ralph said, smiling, "until now I had forgotten that I had been
ill."
"You have saved my life, Ralph, you and my friends here, whom I thank with
all my heart for what they have done. I will speak more to them another
time, now I must ride home with all speed."
Walter now mounted; Ralph took his place on one side of him, and one of his
tenants on the other, lest he should be seized with faintness; then at a
hand- gallop they started back for the castle. Several women of the village
had, when they left, hurried up to the castle. They found Edith lying
insensible by the rope of the alarm-bell, having fainted when she had
accomplished her object. They presently brought her round; as she was now
suffering only from extreme weakness, she was laid on a couch, and cordials
and some soup were given to her. One of the women took her place at the
highest window to watch for the return of any belonging to the expedition.
Edith felt hopeful as to the result, for she thought that their assailants
would not have troubled to carry away the body of Walter had not life
remained in it, and she was sure that Ralph would press them so hotly that
sooner or later the abductors would be overtaken.
An hour and a half passed, and then the woman from above ran down with the
news that she could see three horsemen galloping together towards the
castle, with a number of others following in confused order behind.
"Then they have found my lord," Edith exclaimed joyfully, "for Ralph would
assuredly not return so quickly had they not done so. It's a good sign that
they are galloping, for had they been bearers of ill news they would have
returned more slowly; look out again and see if they are bearing one among
them."
The woman, with some of her companions, hastened away, and in two or three
minutes ran down with the news that Sir Walter himself was one of the three
leading horsemen. In a few minutes Edith was clasped in her husband's
arms, and their joy, restored as they were from the dead to each other, was
indeed almost beyond words.
The plague now abated fast in Westerham, only two or three more persons
being attacked by it. As soon as Edith was sufficiently recovered to travel
Walter proceeded with her to London and there laid before the king and
prince a complaint against Sir James Carnegie for his attempt upon their
lives. Even in the trance in which she lay, Edith had recognized the voice
which had once been so familiar to her. Walter, too, was able to testify
against him, for the rough jolting on horseback had for a while restored
his consciousness, and he had heard words spoken, before relapsing into
insensibility from the continued bleeding of his wound, which enabled him
to swear to Sir James Carnegie as one of his abductors.
The king instantly ordered the arrest of the knight, but he could not be
found; unavailing search was made in every direction, and as nothing could
be heard of him it was concluded that he had left the kingdom. He was
proclaimed publicly a false and villainous knight, his estates were
confiscated to the crown, and he himself was outlawed. Then Walter and his
wife returned home and did their best to assist their tenants in struggling
through the difficulties entailed through the plague.
So terrible had been the mortality that throughout England there was a lack
of hands for field work, crops rotted in the ground because there were none
to harvest them, and men able to work demanded twenty times the wages which
had before been paid. So great was the trouble from this source that an
ordinance was passed by parliament enacting that severe punishment should
be dealt upon all who demanded wages above the standard price, and even
more severe penalties inflicted upon those who should consent to pay higher
wages. It was, however, many years before England recovered from the
terrible blow which had been dealt her from the pestilence.
While Europe had been ravaged by pestilence the adherents of France and
England had continued their struggle in Brittany in spite of the terms of
the truce, and this time King Edward was the first open aggressor, granting
money and assistance to the free companies, who pillaged and plundered in
the name of England. The truce expired at the end of 1348, but was
continued for short periods. It was, however, evident that both parties
were determined ere long to recommence hostilities. The French collected
large forces in Artois and Picardy, and Edward himself proceeded to
Sandwich to organize there another army for the invasion of France.
Phillip determined to strike the first blow, and, before the conclusion of
the truce, to regain possession of Calais. This town was commanded by a
Lombard officer named Almeric of Pavia. Free communication existed, in
consequence of the truce, between Calais and the surrounding country, and
Jeffrey de Charny, the governor of St. Omer, and one of the commissioners
especially appointed to maintain the truce, opened communications with the
Lombard captain. Deeming that like most mercenaries he would be willing to
change sides should his interest to do so be made clear, he offered him a
large sum of money to deliver the castle to the French.
The Lombard at once agreed to the project. Jeffrey de Charny arranged to be
within a certain distance of the town on the night of the 1st of January,
bringing with him sufficient forces to master all opposition if the way was
once opened to the interior of the town. It was further agreed that the
money was to be paid over by a small party of French who were to be sent
forward for the purpose of examining the castle, in order to ensure the
main body against treachery. As a hostage for the security of the
detachment, the son of the governor was to remain in the hands of the
French without, until the safe return of the scouting party.
Several weeks elapsed between the conclusion of the agreement and the date
fixed for its execution, and in the meantime the Lombard, either from
remorse or from a fear of the consequences which might arise from a
detection of the plot before its execution, or from the subsequent
vengeance of the English king, disclosed the whole transaction to Edward.
The king bade him continue to carry out his arrangements with De Charny,
leaving it to him to counteract the plot. Had he issued orders for the
rapid assembly of the army the French would have taken alarm. He therefore
sent private messengers to a number of knights and gentlemen of Kent and
Sussex to meet him with their retainers at Dover on the 31st of December.
Walter was one of those summoned, and although much surprised at the
secrecy with which he was charged, and of such a call being made while the
truce with France still existed, he repaired to Dover on the day named,
accompanied by Ralph and by twenty men, who were all who remained capable
of bearing arms on the estate.
He found the king himself with the Black Prince at Dover, where they had
arrived that day. Sir Walter Manny was in command of the force, which
consisted in all of 300 men-at-arms and 600 archers. A number of small
boats had been collected, and at midday on the 1st of January the little
expedition started, and arrived at Calais after nightfall.
In the chivalrous spirit of the times the king determined that Sir Walter
Manny should continue in command of the enterprise; he and the Black
Prince, disguised as simple knights, fighting under his banner.
In the meantime a considerable force had been collected at St. Omer, where
a large number of knights and gentlemen obeyed the summons of Jeffrey de
Charny. On the night appointed they marched for Calais, in number five
hundred lances and a corresponding number of footmen. They reached the
river and bridge of Nieullay a little after midnight, and messengers were
sent on to the governor, who was prepared to receive them. On their report
De Charny advanced still nearer to the town, leaving the bridge and
passages to the river guarded by a large body of crossbow-men under the
command of the Lord De Fiennes and a number of other knights. At a little
distance from the castle he was met by Almeric de Pavia, who yielded his
son as a hostage according to his promise, calculating, as was the case,
that he would be recaptured by the English. Then, having received the
greater portion of the money agreed upon, he led a party of the French over
the castle to satisfy them of his sincerity. Upon receiving their report
that all was quiet De Charny detached twelve knights and a hundred men-
at-arms to take possession of the castle, while he himself waited at one of
the gates of the town with the principal portion of his force.
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