to tilt in the ring. He was already a skillful swordsman, but he spared
no pains to improve himself with his weapons. The court was a gay one,
and Walter, as a favored esquire of one of the foremost knights there,
was admitted to all that took place. His courtly education, of course,
included dancing, and when he went down, as he often did, for a long
chat with his old friends, Geoffrey often said, laughing, that he was
growing such a fine gentleman that he hardly liked to sit in his
presence; but although changed in manner, Walter continued to be, as
before, a frank, manly young fellow, and free from the affectations
which were so general among the young men of the court.

CHAPTER XI.

A STORMY INTERVIEW.

Soon after Walter's return from France Dame Vernon returned to her
country estate, and a year passed before he again saw her. During this
time the truce which had been established between England and France had
remained unbroken. It was certain, however, that ere long the two powers
would again come to blows. The King of England had honorably observed
the terms of the treaty. Upon his return home he had entirely disbanded
his army and had devoted his whole attention to increasing the trade and
prosperity of the country. The measures which he took to do this were
not always popular with the people of England, for seeing how greatly
they excelled the English manufacturers Edward encouraged large numbers
of Flemings and other foreign workmen to settle in London, and gave them
many privileges to induce them to do so; this the populace strongly
resented. There was a strong ill-feeling against the Flemings and
serious popular riots took place, for the English traders and workmen
considered that these foreigners were taking the bread from their
mouths. The king, however, was wiser than his people, he saw that
although the English weavers were able to produce coarse cloths, yet
that all of the finer sort had to be imported from the Continent. He
deemed that in time the Flemings would teach their art to his subjects,
and that England would come to vie with the Low Countries in the quality
of her produce. Such was indeed afterward the case, and England gained
greatly by the importation of the industrious Flemings, just as she
afterward profited from the expulsion from France of tens of thousands
of Protestant workmen who brought here many of the manufactures of which
France had before the monopoly. The relations between England and the
Flemings were at this time very close, for the latter regarded England
as her protector against the ambition of the King of France.

But while King Edward had laid aside all thought of war, such was not
the case with Philip of Valois. He had retired after the signature of
the treaty full of rage and humiliation; for hitherto in all their
struggles his English rival had had the better of him, and against
vastly superior forces had foiled all his efforts and had gained alike
glory and military advantage. King Edward had hardly set sail when
Philip began to break the terms of truce by inciting the adherents of
Charles of Blois to attack those of De Montford, and by rendering
assistance to them with money and men. He also left no means untried to
detach Flanders from its alliance with England. Several castles and
towns in Brittany were wrested from the partisans of De Montford, and
King Edward, after many remonstrances at the breaches of the conditions
of the truce, began again to make preparations for taking the field.
Several brilliant tournaments were held and every means were taken to
stir up the warlike spirit of the people.

One day Walter had attended his lord to the palace and was waiting in
the anteroom with many other squires and gentlemen, while Sir Walter,
with some other noblemen, was closeted with the king, discussing the
means to be adopted for raising funds for a renewal of the war with
France, when a knight entered whom Walter had not previously seen at
court.

"Who is that?" he asked one of his acquaintances; "methinks I know his
face, though it passes my memory to say where I have seen it."

"He has been away from England for some two years," his friend answered.
"That is Sir James Carnegie; he is a cousin of the late Sir Jasper
Vernon; he left somewhat suddenly a short time after Dame Vernon had
that narrow escape from drowning that you wot of; he betook himself then
to Spain, where he has been fighting the Moors; he is said to be a
valiant knight, but otherwise he bears but an indifferent good
reputation."

Walter remembered the face now; it was that of the knight he had seen
enter the hut of the river pirate on the Lambeth marshes. When released
from duty he at once made his way to the lodging of Dame Vernon. Walter
was now nineteen, for a year had elapsed since the termination of the
French war, and he was in stature and strength the match of most men,
while his skill at knightly exercises, as well as with the sword, was
recognized as preeminent among all the young esquires of the court.

After the first greeting he said to Dame Vernon: "I think it right to
tell you, lady, that I have but now, in the king's anteroom, seen the
man who plotted against your life in the hut at Lambeth. His face is a
marked one and I could not mistake it. I hear that he is a cousin of
yours, one Sir James Carnegie, as you doubtless recognized from my
description of him. I came to tell you in order that you might decide
what my conduct should be. If you wish it so I will keep the secret in
my breast; but if you fear aught from him I will openly accuse him
before the king of the crime he attempted, and shall be ready to meet
him in the ordeal of battle should he claim it."

"I have seen Sir James," Lady Vernon said. "I had a letter writ in a
feigned hand telling him that his handiwork in the plot against my life
was known, and warning him that, unless he left England, the proofs
thereof would be laid before justice. He at once sailed for Spain,
whence he has returned but a few days since. He does not know for
certain that I am aware of his plottings against us; but he must have
seen by my reception of him when he called that I no longer regard him
with the friendship which I formerly entertained. I have received a
message from him that he will call upon me this evening, and that he
trusts he will find me alone, as he would fain confer with me on private
matters. When I have learned his intentions I shall be the better able
to judge what course I had best adopt. I would fain, if it may be, let
the matter rest. Sir James has powerful interest, and I would not have
him for an open enemy if I can avoid it; besides, all the talk and
publicity which so grave an accusation against a knight, and he of mine
own family, would entail, would be very distasteful to me; but should I
find it necessary for the sake of my child, I shall not shrink from it.
I trust, however, that it will not come to that; but I shall not
hesitate, if need be, to let him know that I am acquainted with his evil
designs toward us. I will inform you of as much of our interview as it
is necessary that you should know."

That evening Sir James Carnegie called upon Dame Vernon. "I would not
notice it the other day, fair cousin," he said, in return for her stiff
and ceremonious greeting; "but methinks that you are mightily changed in
your bearing toward me. I had looked on my return from my long
journeying for something of the sisterly warmth with which you once
greeted me, but I find you as cold and hard as if I had been altogether
a stranger to you. I would fain know in what way I have forfeited your
esteem."

"I do not wish to enter into bygones, Sir James," the lady said, "and
would fain let the past sleep if you will let me. Let us, then, turn
without more ado to the private matters concerning which you wished to
speak with me."

"If such is your mood, fair dame, I must needs fall in with it, though
in no way able to understand your allusion to the past, wherein my
conscience holds me guiltless of aught which could draw upon me your
disfavor. I am your nearest male relative, and as such would fain confer
with you touching the future of young Mistress Edith, your daughter. She
is now nigh thirteen years of age, and is the heiress of broad lands; is
it not time that she were betrothed to one capable of taking care of
them for her, and leading your vassals to battle in these troubled
times?"

"Thanks, Sir James, for your anxiety about my child," Dame Vernon said
coldly. "She is a ward of the king. I am in no way anxious that an early
choice should be made for her; but our good Queen Philippa has promised
that, when the time shall come, his majesty shall not dispose of her
hand without my wishes being in some way consulted; and I have no doubt
that when the time shall come that she is of marriageable age--and I
would not that this should be before she has gained eighteen years, for
I like not the over young marriages which are now in fashion--a knight
may be found for her husband capable of taking care of her and her
possessions; but may I ask if, in so speaking to me, you have any one in
your mind's eye as a suitor for her hand?"

"Your manner is not encouraging, certes; but I had my plan, which would,
I hoped, have met with your approval. I am the young lady's cousin, and
her nearest male relative; and although we are within the limited
degrees, there will be no difficulty in obtaining a dispensation from
Rome. I am myself passably well off, and some of the mortgages which I
had been forced to lay upon my estates have been cleared off during my
absence. I have returned home with some reputation, and with a goodly
sum gained in the wars with the Moors. I am older than my cousin,
certainly; but as I am still but thirty-two, this would not, I hope, be
deemed an obstacle, and methought that you would rather intrust her to
your affectionate cousin than to a stranger. The king has received me
very graciously, and would, I trust, offer no opposition to my suit were
it backed by your good-will."

"I suppose, Sir James," Dame Vernon said, "that I should thank you for
the offer which you have made; but I can only reply, that while duly
conscious of the high honor you have done my daughter by your offer, I
would rather see her in her grave than wedded to you."

The knight leaped from his seat with a fierce exclamation. "This is too
much," he exclaimed, "and I have a right to know why such an offer on my
part should be answered by disdain, and even insolence."

[Illustration: DAME ALICE REVEALS SIR JAMES' VILLAINY.--Page 187.]

"You have a right to know," Dame Vernon answered quietly, "and I will
tell you. I repeat that I would rather see my child in her grave than
wedded to a man who attempted to compass the murder of her and her
mother."

"What wild words are these?" Sir James asked sternly. "What accusation
is this that you dare to bring against me?"

"I repeat what I said, Sir James," Dame Alice replied quietly. "I know
that you plotted with the water pirates of Lambeth to upset our boat as
we came down the Thames; that you treacherously delayed us at Richmond
in order that we might not reach London before dark; and that by
enveloping me in a white cloak you gave a signal by which I might be
known to your creatures."

The knight stood for a moment astounded. He was aware that the fact that
he had had some share in the outrage was known, and was not surprised
that his cousin was acquainted with the secret; but that she should know
all the details with which but one besides himself was, as he believed,
acquainted, completely stupefied him. He rapidly, however, recovered
himself.

"I recall now," he said scornfully, "the evidence which was given before
the justices by some ragged city boy, to the effect that he had
overheard a few words of a conversation between some ruffian over in the
Lambeth marshes and an unknown person; but it is new to me indeed that
there was any suspicion that I was the person alluded to, still less
that a lady of my own family, in whose affection I believed, should
credit so monstrous an accusation."

"I would that I could discredit it, Sir James," Dame Vernon said sadly;
"but the proofs were too strong for me. Much more of your conversation
than was narrated in court was overheard, and it was at my request that
the ragged boy, as you call him, kept silence."

"And is it possible," the knight asked indignantly, "that you believed
the word of a fellow like this to the detriment of your kinsman? Why, in
any court of law the word of such a one as opposed to that of a knight
and gentleman of honor would not be taken for a moment."

"You are mistaken, sir," Dame Vernon said haughtily. "You may remember,
in the first place, that the lad who overheard this conversation risked
his life to save me and my daughter from the consequences of the attack
which he heard planned; in the second place, he was no ragged lad, but
the apprentice of a well-known citizen; thirdly--and this is of
importance, since he has recognized you since your return, and is ready,
should I give him the word, to denounce you--he is no mere apprentice
boy, but is of gentle blood, seeing that he is the son of Sir Roland
Somers, the former possessor of the lands which I hold, and that he is
in high favor with the good knight Sir Walter Manny, whose esquire he
now is, and under whom he distinguished himself in the wars in France,
and is, as Sir Walter assures me, certain to win his spurs ere long.
Thus you see his bare word would be of equal value to your own, besides
the fact that his evidence does not rest upon mere assertion; but that
the man in the hut promised to do what you actually performed, namely,
to delay me at Richmond, and to wrap me in a white cloak in order that I
might be recognized by the river pirates."

Sir James was silent. In truth, as he saw, the evidence was
overwhelmingly strong against him. After awhile he stammered out, "I
cannot deny that I was the man in question; but I swear to you that this
boy was mistaken, and that the scoundrel acted altogether beyond my
instructions, which were simply that he should board the boat and carry
you and your daughter away to a safe place."

"And with what object, sir," Dame Vernon said contemptuously, "was I to
be thus taken away?"

"I do not seek to excuse myself," the knight replied calmly, having now
recovered his self-possession, "for I own I acted wrongly and basely;
but in truth I loved you, and would fain have made you my wife. I knew
that you regarded me with only the calm affection of a kinswoman; but I
thought that were you in my power you would consent to purchase your
freedom with your hand. I know now that I erred greatly. I acknowledge
my fault, and that my conduct was base and unknightly, and my only
excuse is the great love I bore you."

"And which," the lady said sarcastically, "you have now transferred to
my daughter. I congratulate you, Sir James, upon the possession of a
ready wit and an invention which does not fail you at a pinch, and of a
tongue which repeats unfalteringly any fable which your mind may
dictate. You do not, I suppose, expect me to believe the tale. Still, I
own that it is a well-devised one, and might, at a pinch, pass muster;
but fear not, Sir James. As hitherto I have kept silence as to the
author of the outrage committed upon me, so I have no intention of
proclaiming the truth now unless you force me to do so. Suffice that
both for myself and for my daughter I disclaim the honor of your hand.
So long as you offer no molestation to us, and abstain from troubling us
in any way, so long will my mouth be sealed; and I would fain bury in my
breast the memory of your offense. I will not give the world's tongue
occasion to wag by any open breach between kinsfolk, and shall therefore
in public salute you as an acquaintance, but under no pretense whatever
will I admit you to any future private interview. Now leave me, sir, and
I trust that your future life will show that you deeply regret the
outrage which in your greed for my husband's lands you were tempted to
commit."

Without a word Sir James turned and left the room, white with shame and
anger, but with an inward sense of congratulation at the romance which
he had, on the spur of the moment, invented, and which would, he felt
sure, be accepted by the world as probable, in the event of the share he
had in the matter being made public, either upon the denunciation of
Dame Vernon or in any other manner.

One determination, however, he made, and swore, to himself, that he
would bitterly avenge himself upon the youth whose interference had
thwarted his plans, and whose report to his kinswoman had turned her
mind against him. He, at any rate, should be put out of the way at the
first opportunity, and thus the only witness against himself be removed;
for Lady Vernon's own unsupported story would be merely her word against
his, and could be treated as the malicious fiction of an angry woman.

The following day Dame Vernon sent for Walter, and informed him exactly
what had taken place.

"Between Sir James and me," she said, "there is, you see, a truce. We
are enemies, but we agree to lay aside our arms for the time. But,
Walter, you must be on your guard. You know as well as I do how
dangerous this man is, and how good a cause he has to hate you. I would
not have divulged your name had I not known that the frequency of your
visits here and the encouragement which I openly give you as the future
suitor of my daughter, would be sure to come to his ears, and he would
speedily discover that it was you who saved our lives on the Thames and
gave your testimony before the justices as to the conversation in the
hut on the marshes. Thus I forestalled what he would in a few days have
learned."

"I fear him not, lady," Walter said calmly. "I can hold mine own, I
hope, against him in arms, and having the patronage and friendship of
Sir Walter Manny I am above any petty malice. Nevertheless, I will hold
myself on my guard. I will, so far as possible, avoid any snare which he
may, as 'tis not unlikely, set for my life, and will, so far as I
honorably can, avoid any quarrel with which he may seek to saddle me."

A few days later Walter again met Sir James Carnegie in the king's
anteroom, and saw at once, by the fixed look of hate with which he had
regarded him, that he had already satisfied himself of his identity. He
returned the knight's stare with a cold look of contempt. The knight
moved toward him and in a low tone said, "Beware, young sir, I have a
heavy reckoning against you, and James Carnegie never forgets debts of
that kind!"

"I am warned, Sir James," Walter said calmly, but in the same low tone,
"and, believe me, I hold but very lightly the threats of one who does
not succeed even when he conspires against the lives of women and
children."

Sir James started as if he had been struck. Then with a great effort he
recovered his composure, and, repeating the word "Beware!" walked across
to the other side of the chamber.

The next day Walter went down the river and had a talk with his friend
Geoffrey.

"You must beware, lad," the armorer said when he told him of the return
of Sir James Carnegie and the conversation which had taken place between
them. "This man is capable of anything, and careth not where he chooseth
his instruments. The man of the hut at Lambeth has never been caught
since his escape from Richmond Jail--thanks, doubtless, to the gold of
his employer--and, for aught we know, may still be lurking in the
marshes there, or in the purlieus of the city. He will have a grudge
against you as well as his employer, and in him Sir James would find a
ready instrument. He is no doubt connected, as before, with a gang of
water pirates and robbers, and it is not one sword alone that you would
have to encounter. I think not that you are in danger just at present,
for he would know that, in case of your murder, the suspicions of Dame
Vernon and of any others who may know the motive which he has in getting
rid of you would be excited, and he might be accused in having had a
share in your death. Still, it would be so hard to prove aught against
him that he may be ready to run the risk in order to rid himself of you.
Look here, Walter. What think you of this?" and the smith drew out from
a coffer a shirt of mail of finer work than Walter had ever before seen.

"Ay, lad, I knew you would be pleased," he said in answer to Walter's
exclamation at the fineness of the workmanship. "I bought this a month
ago from a Jew merchant who had recently come from Italy. How he got it
I know not, but I doubt if it were honestly, or he would have demanded a
higher price than I paid him. He told me that it was made by the first
armorer in Milan, and was constructed especially for a cardinal of the
church, who had made many enemies by his evil deeds and could not sleep
for fear of assassination. At his death it came, the Jew said, into his
possession. I suppose some rascally attendant took it as a perquisite,
and, knowing not of its value, sold it for a few ducats to the Jew.
However, it is of the finest workmanship. It is, as you see, double, and
each link is made of steel so tough that no dagger or sword point will
pierce it. I put it on a block and tried the metal myself, and broke one
of my best daggers on it without a single link giving. Take it, lad. You
are welcome to it. I bought it with a special eye to you, thinking that
you might wear it under your armor in battle without greatly adding to
the weight; but for such dangers as threaten you now it is invaluable.
It is so light and soft that none will dream that you have it under your
doublet, and I warrant me it will hold you safe against the daggers of
Sir James' ruffians."

Walter did not like taking a gift so valuable, for his apprenticeship as
an armorer had taught him the extreme rarity and costliness of so fine a
piece of work. Geoffrey, however, would not hear of his refusal, and
insisted on his then and there taking off his doublet and putting it on.
It fitted closely to the body, descending just below the hips, and
coming well up on the neck, while the arms extended to the wrists.

"There!" the smith said with delight. "Now you are safe against sword or
dagger, save for a sweeping blow at the head, and that your sword can be
trusted to guard. Never take it off, Walter, save when you sleep; and
except when in your own bed, at Sir Walter Manny's, I should advise you
to wear it even at night. The weight is nothing, and it will not
incommode you. So long as this caitiff knight lives, your life will not
be safe. When he is dead you may hang up the shirt of mail with a light
heart."

CHAPTER XII.

JACOB VAN ARTEVELDE.

King Edward found no difficulty in awakening the war spirit of England
anew, for the King of France, by an act of infamous treachery, in spite
of the solemn terms of the treaty, excited against himself the
indignation not only of England but of all Europe. Oliver de Clisson,
with fourteen other nobles of Brittany and Normandy, were arrested by
his order, taken to Paris, and without form of trial there decapitated.
This act of treachery and injustice aroused disgust and shame among the
French nobles, and murmurs and discontent spread throughout the whole
country.

In Brittany numbers of the nobles fell off from the cause of Charles of
Blois, and King Edward hastened his preparations to avenge the butchery
of the adherents of the house of Montford. Philip, however, in defiance
of the murmurs of his own subjects, of the indignant remonstrances of
Edward, and even those of the pope, who was devoted to his cause,
continued the course he had begun, and a number of other nobles were
seized and executed. Godfrey of Harcourt alone, warned by the fate of
his companions, refused to obey the summons of the king to repair to
Paris, and fled to Brabant. His property in France was at once seized by
Philip; and Godfrey, finding that the Duke of Brabant would be unable to
shield him from Philip's vengeance, fled to the English court, and did
homage to Edward.

On the 24th of April, 1345, Edward determined no longer to allow Philip
to continue to benefit by his constant violations of the truce, and
accordingly sent a defiance to the King of France.

De Montford, who had just succeeded in escaping from his prison in
Paris, arrived at this moment in England, and shortly afterward set sail
with a small army under the command of the Earl of Northampton for
Brittany, while the Earl of Derby took his departure with a larger force
for the defense of Guienne.

King Edward set about raising a large army, which he determined to lead
himself, but before passing over to France he desired to strengthen his
hold of Flanders. The constant intrigues of Philip there had exercised a
great effect. The count of that country was already strongly in his
interest, and it was only the influence of Jacob van Artevelde which
maintained the alliance with England. This man had, by his talent and
energy, gained an immense influence over his countrymen; but his
commanding position and ability had naturally excited the envy and
hatred of many of his fellow-citizens, among whom was the dean of the
weavers of Ghent, one Gerard Denis. The weavers were the most powerful
body in this city, and had always been noted for their turbulence and
faction; and on a Monday in the month of May, 1345, a great battle took
place in the market-place between them and the fullers, of whom 1,500
were slain. This victory of the weavers strengthened the power of the
party hostile to Artevelde and the English connection; and the former
saw that unless he could induce his countrymen to take some
irretrievable step in favor of England they would ultimately fall back
into the arms of France. Accordingly he invited Edward to pass over with
a strong force into Flanders, where he would persuade the Flemings to
make the Prince of Wales their duke. King Edward at once accepted the
offer, and sailing from Sandwich on the 3d of July arrived in safety at
Sluys. His intention had been kept a profound secret, and his arrival
created the greatest surprise throughout Flanders. He did not disembark,
but received on board a ship with great honor and magnificence the
burgomasters of the various towns who appeared to welcome him. The king
had brought with him the Prince of Wales, now fifteen years old, who
wore a suit of black armor and was therefore called "the Black Prince."

Walter Somers was on board the royal vessel. The Prince of Wales had not
forgotten the promise which he had six years before made to him, and had
asked Sir Walter Manny to allow him to follow under his banner.

"You are taking my most trusty squire from me, prince," the knight
said; "for although I have many brave young fellows in my following,
there is not one whom I value so much as Walter Somers. It is but fair,
however, that you should have him, since you told me when I first took
him that he was to follow your banner when you were old enough to go to
the wars. You can rely upon him implicitly. He cares not for the
gayeties of which most young men of his age think so much. He is ever
ready for duty, and he possesses a wisdom and sagacity which will some
day make him a great leader."

Walter was sorry to leave his patron, but the step was of course a great
advancement, and excited no little envy among his companions, for among
the young esquires of the Prince of Wales were the sons of many of the
noblest families of England.

Sir Walter presented him on leaving with a heavy purse. "Your expenses
will be large," he said, "among so many young gallants, and you must do
credit to me as well as to yourself. The young prince is generous to a
fault, and as he holds you in high favor, both from his knowledge of you
and from my report, you will, I know, lack nothing when you are once
fairly embarked in his service; but it is needful that when you first
join you should be provided with many suits of courtly raiment of cloth
of gold and silk, which were not needed while you were in the service of
a simple knight like myself, but which must be worn by a companion of
the heir of England."

Walter had hoped that Sir James Carnegie would have accompanied the
forces of either of the Earls of Northampton or Derby, but he found that
he had attached himself to the royal army.

Ralph of course followed Walter's fortunes, and was now brilliant in the
appointments of the Prince of Wales' chosen body-guard of men-at-arms.

The councils of all the great towns of Flanders assembled at Sluys, and
for several days great festivities were held. Then a great assembly was
held, and Van Artevelde rose and addressed his countrymen. He set forth
to them the virtues of the Prince of Wales, whose courtesy and bearing
had so captivated them; he pointed out the obligations which Flanders
was under toward King Edward, and the advantages which would arise from
a nearer connection with England. With this he contrasted the weakness
of their count, the many ills which his adherence to France had brought
upon the country, and the danger which menaced them should his power be
ever renewed. He then boldly proposed to them that they should at once
cast off their allegiance to the count and bestow the vacant coronet
upon the Prince of Wales, who, as Duke of Flanders, would undertake the
defense and government of the country with the aid of a Flemish council.

This wholly unexpected proposition took the Flemish burghers by
surprise. Artevelde had calculated upon his eloquence and influence
carrying them away, but his power had diminished, and many of his
hearers had already been gained to the cause of France. The burgher
councils had for a long time had absolute power in their own towns, and
the prospect of a powerful prince at their head foredoomed a curtailment
of those powers. When Artevelde ceased, therefore, instead of the
enthusiastic shouts with which he hoped his oration would be greeted, a
confused murmur arose. At last several got up and said that, greatly
attached as they were to the king, much as they admired the noble young
prince proposed for their acceptance, they felt themselves unable to
give an answer upon an affair of such moment without consulting their
fellow-countrymen and learning their opinions. They therefore promised
that they would return on a certain day and give a decided answer.

The Flemish burghers then took their leave. Van Artevelde, after a
consultation with the king, started at once to use his influence among
the various towns.

After leaving the king he bade adieu to the Prince of Wales. "Would you
like," the young prince said, "that one of my esquires should ride with
you? His presence might show the people how entirely I am with you; and
should you have tidings to send me he could ride hither with them. I
have one with me who is prudent and wise, and who possesses all the
confidence of that wise and valiant knight, Sir Walter de Manny."

"I will gladly take him, your royal highness," Van Artevelde said, "and
hope to dispatch him to you very shortly with the news that the great
towns of Flanders all gladly receive you as their lord."

In a few minutes Walter had mounted his horse, accompanied by Ralph,
and, joining Van Artevelde, rode to Bruges. Here and at Ypres Van
Artevelde's efforts were crowned with success. His eloquence carried
away the people with him, and both these cities agreed to accept the
Prince of Wales as their lord; but the hardest task yet remained. Ghent
was the largest and most powerful of the Flemish towns, and here his
enemies were in the ascendant. Gerard Denis and the weavers had been
stirring up the people against him. All kinds of accusations had been
spread, and he was accused of robbing and selling his country. The news
of the hostile feeling of the population reached Van Artevelde, and he
dispatched Walter with the request to the king for a force of five
hundred English soldiers as a guard against his enemies.

Had Artevelde asked for a large force Edward would have disembarked his
army and marched at their head into Ghent. As the rest of the country
was already won there can be little doubt that this step would at once
have silenced all opposition, and would have annexed Flanders to the
British crown. Van Artevelde, however, believed himself to be stronger
than he really was, and thought with a small party of soldiers he could
seize his principal opponents, and that the people would then rally
round him.

Upon the arrival of the five hundred men he started for Ghent; but as he
feared that the gates would be shut if he presented himself with an
armed force, he left the soldiers in concealment a short distance from
the town and entered it, accompanied only by his usual suit. At his
invitation, however, Walter, followed of course by Ralph, rode beside
him. No sooner was he within the gates than Van Artevelde saw how strong
was the popular feeling against him. He had been accustomed to be
received with bows of reverence; now men turned aside as he approached,
or scowled at him from their doors.

"Methinks, sir," Walter said, "that it would be wiser did we ride back,
and, joining the soldiers, enter at their head, or as that number would
be scarce sufficient should so large a town rise in tumult, to send to
King Edward for a larger force and await their coming. Even should they
shut the gates we can reduce the town, and as all the rest of Flanders
is with you, surely a short delay will not matter."

"You know not these Flemings as well as I do," Van Artevelde replied;
"they are surly dogs, but they always listen to my voice, and are ready
enough to do my bidding. When I once speak to them you will see how they
will smooth their backs and do as I ask them."

Walter said no more, but as he saw everywhere lowering brows from window
and doorway as they rode through the streets, he had doubts whether the
power of Van Artevelde's eloquence would have the magical potency he had
expected from it.

When the party arrived at the splendid dwelling of the great demagogue,
messengers were instantly sent out to all his friends and retainers. A
hundred and forty persons soon assembled, and while Van Artevelde was
debating with them as to the best steps to be taken, Walter opened the
casement and looked out into the street. It was already crowded with the
people, whose silent and quiet demeanor seemed to bode no good. Arms
were freely displayed among them, and Walter saw men passing to and fro
evidently giving instructions.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Master Artevelde," he said, returning to the
room where the council was being held, "but methinks that it would be
wise to bar the doors and windows, and to put yourself in a posture of
defense, for a great crowd is gathering without, for the most part
armed, and as it seems to me with evil intentions."

A glance from the windows confirmed Walter's statements, and the doors
and windows were speedily barricaded. Before many minutes had elapsed
the tolling of bells in all parts of the town was heard, and down the
different streets leading toward the building large bodies of armed men
were seen making their way.

"I had rather have to do with a whole French army, Master Walter," Ralph
said, as he stood beside him at an upper window looking down upon the
crowd, "than with these citizens of Ghent. Look at those men with
bloody axes and stained clothes. Doubtless those are the skinners and
butchers. Didst ever see such a ferocious band of savages? Listen to
their shouts. Death to Van Artevelde! Down with the English alliance! I
thought our case was a bad one when the French poured over the walls
into Vannes, but methinks it is a hundred times worse now."

"We got out of that scrape, Ralph, and I hope we shall get out of this,
but as you say the prospect is black enough. See, the butchers are
hammering at the door with their pole-axes. Let us go down and aid in
the defense."

"I am ready," Ralph said, "but I shall fight with a lighter heart if you
could fix upon some plan for us to adopt when the rabble break in. That
they will do so I regard as certain, seeing that the house is not built
for purposes of defense, but has numerous broad windows on the
ground-floor by which assuredly they will burst their way in."

"Wait a moment then, Ralph; let us run up to the top story and see if
there be any means of escape along the roofs."

The house stood detached from the others, but on one side was separated
from that next to it only by a narrow lane, and as the upper stories
projected beyond those below, the windows were but six feet distant from
those on the opposite side of the way.

"See," Walter said, "there is a casement in the room to our left there
which is open; let us see if it is tenanted."

Going into the next room they went to the window and opened it. It
exactly faced the casement opposite, and so far as they could see the
room was unoccupied.

"It were easy to put a plank across," Ralph said.

"We must not do that," Walter answered. "The mob are thick in the lane
below--what a roar comes up from their voices!--and a plank would be
surely seen, and we should be killed there as well as here. No, we must
get on to the sill and spring across; the distance is not great, and the
jump would be nothing were it not that the casements are so low. It must
be done as lightly and quickly as possible, and we may not then be seen
from below. Now leave the door open that we may make no mistake as to
the room, and come along, for by the sound the fight is hot below."

Running down the stairs Walter and Ralph joined in the defense. Those in
the house knew that they would meet with no mercy from the infuriated
crowd, and each fought with the bravery of despair. Although there were
many windows to be defended, and at each the mob attacked desperately,
the assaults were all repulsed. Many indeed of the defenders were struck
down by the pikes and pole-axes, but for a time they beat back the
assailants whenever they attempted to enter.

The noise was prodigious. The alarm-bells of the town were all ringing
and the shouts of the combatants were drowned in the hoarse roar of the
surging crowd without.

Seeing that however valiant was the defense the assailants must in the
end prevail, and feeling sure that his enemies would have closed the
city gates and thus prevented the English without from coming to his
assistance, Van Artevelde ascended to an upper story and attempted to
address the crowd. His voice was drowned in the roar. In vain he
gesticulated and made motions imploring them to hear him, but all was
useless, and the courage of the demagogue deserted him and he burst into
tears at the prospect of death. Then he determined to try and make his
escape to the sanctuary of a church close by, and was descending the
stairs when a mighty crash below, the clashing of steel, shouts, and
cries, told that the mob had swept away one of the barricades and were
pouring into the house.

"Make for the stairs," Walter shouted, "and defend yourselves there."
But the majority of the defenders, bewildered by the inrush of the
enemy, terrified at their ferocious aspect and terrible axes, had no
thought of continuing the resistance. A few, getting into corners,
resisted desperately to the end; others threw down their arms and
dropping on their knees cried for mercy, but all were ruthlessly
slaughtered.

Keeping close together Walter and Ralph fought their way to the foot of
the stairs, and closely pursued by a band of the skinners headed by
Gerard Denis, ran up.

Upon the first landing stood a man paralyzed with terror. On seeing him
a cry of ferocious triumph rose from the mob. As nothing could be done
to aid him Walter and his follower rushed by without stopping. There was
a pause in the pursuit, and glancing down from the upper gallery Walter
saw Van Artevelde in the hands of the mob, each struggling to take
possession of him; then a man armed with a great ax pushed his way among
them, and swinging it over his head struck Van Artevelde dead to the
floor. His slayer was Gerard Denis himself.

Followed by Ralph, Walter sprang through the open door into the chamber
they had marked, and closed the door behind them. Then Walter, saying,
"I will go first, Ralph; I can help you in should you miss your spring,"
mounted on the sill of the casement.

Short as was the distance the leap was extremely difficult, for neither
casement was more than three feet high. Walter was therefore obliged to
stoop low and to hurl himself head forward across the gulf. He succeeded
in the attempt, shooting clear through the casement on to the floor
beyond. Instantly he picked himself up and went to Ralph's assistance.
The latter, taller and more bulky, had greater difficulty in the task,
and only his shoulders arrived through the window. Walter seized him,
and aided him at once to scramble in, and they closed the casement
behind them.

"It was well we took off our armor, Ralph; its pattern would have been
recognized in an instant."

Walter had thrown off his helmet as he bounded up the stairs, and both
he and his companion had rid themselves of their heavy armor.

"I would give a good deal," he said, "for two bourgeois jerkins, even
were they as foul as those of the skinners. This is a woman's
apartment," he added, looking round, "and nothing here will cover my six
feet of height, to say nothing of your four inches extra. Let us peep
into some of the other rooms. This is, doubtless, the house of some
person of importance, and in the upper floor we may find some clothes of
servants or retainers."

They were not long in their search. The next room was a large one, and
contained a number of pallet beds, and hanging from pegs on the walls
were jerkins, mantles, and other garments, evidently belonging to the
retainers of the house. Walter and Ralph were not long in
transmogrifying their appearance, and had soon the air of two
respectable serving-men in a Flemish household.

"But how are we to descend?" Ralph asked. "We can hardly hope to walk
down the stairs and make our escape without being seen, especially as
the doors will all be barred and bolted, seeing the tumult which is
raging outside."

"It all depends whether our means of escape are suspected," Walter
replied. "I should scarce think that they would be. The attention of our
pursuers was wholly taken up by Van Artevelde, and some minutes must
have passed before they followed us. No doubt they will search every
place in the house, and all within it will by this time have been
slaughtered. But they will scarce organize any special search for us.
All will be fully occupied with the exciting events which have taken
place, and as the casement by which we entered is closed it is scarcely
likely to occur to any one that we have escaped by that means. I will
listen first if the house is quiet. If so, we will descend and take
refuge in some room below, where there is a better chance of concealment
than here. Put the pieces of armor into that closet so that they may not
catch the eye of any who may happen to come hither. The day is already
closing. In half an hour it will be nightfall. Then we will try and make
our way out."

Listening at the top of the stairs they could hear voices below; but as
the gallery was quiet and deserted they made their way a floor lower,
and seeing an open door entered it. Walter looked from the window.

"There is a back yard below," he said, "with a door opening upon a
narrow lane. We are now upon the second story, and but some twenty-five
feet above the ground. We will not risk going down through the house,
which could scarce be accomplished without detection, but will at once
tear up into strips the coverings of the bed, and will make a rope by
which we may slip down into the court-yard as soon as it is dark. We
must hope that none will come up before that time; but, indeed, all will
be so full of the news of the events which have happened that it is
scarce likely that any will come above at present."

The linen sheets and coverings were soon cut up and knotted together in
a rope. By the time that this was finished the darkness was closing in,
and after waiting patiently for a few minutes they lowered the rope and
slid down into the yard. Quietly they undid the bolts of the gate and
issued into the lane. The mantles were provided with hoods, as few of
the lower class of Flemings wore any other head-covering.

Drawing these hoods well over their heads so as to shade their faces,
the two sallied out from the lane. They were soon in one of the
principal streets, which was crowded with people. Bands of weavers,
butchers, skinners, and others were parading the streets shouting and
singing in honor of their victory and of the downfall and death of him
whom they had but a few days before regarded as the mainstay of
Flanders. Many of the better class of burghers stood in groups in the
streets and talked in low and rather frightened voices of the
consequences which the deed of blood would bring upon the city. On the
one hand, Edward might march upon it with his army to avenge the murder
of his ally. Upon the other hand, they were now committed to France.
Their former ruler would return, and all the imposts and burdens against
which they had rebelled would again be laid upon the city.

"What shall we do now?" Ralph asked, "for assuredly there will be no
issue by the gates."

"We must possess ourselves of a length of rope, if possible, and make
our escape over the wall. How to get one I know not, for the shops are
all closed, and even were it not so I could not venture in to purchase
any, for my speech would betray us at once. Let us separate, and each
see whether he can find what we want. We will meet again at the entrance
to this church in an hour's time. One or the other of us may find what
we seek."

Walter searched in vain. Wherever he saw the door of a yard open he
peered in, but in no case could he see any signs of rope. At the end of
the hour he returned to their rendezvous. Ralph was already there.

"I have found nothing, Ralph. Have you had better fortune?"

"That have I, Master Walter, and was back nigh an hour since. Scarce had
I left you when in a back street I came upon a quiet hostelry, and in
the court-yard were standing half a dozen teams of cattle. Doubtless
their owners had brought hay or corn into the city, and when the tumult
arose and the gates were closed found themselves unable to escape. The
masters were all drinking within, so without more ado I cut off the
ropes which served as traces for the oxen, and have them wound round my
body under my mantle. There must be twenty yards at least, and as each
rope is strong enough to hold double our weight there will be no
difficulty in lowering ourselves from the walls."

"You have done well indeed, Ralph," Walter said. "Let us make our way
thither at once. Every one is so excited in the city that, as yet, there
will be but few guards upon the wall. The sooner, therefore, that we
attempt to make our escape the better."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE WHITE FORD.

They made their way without interruption to the wall. This they found,
as they expected, entirely deserted, although, no doubt, guards had been
posted at the gates. The Flemings, however, could have felt no fear of
an attack by so small a force as the five hundred English whom they knew
to be in the neighborhood.

Walter and his companion soon knotted the ropes together and lowered
themselves into the moat. A few strokes took them to the other side, and
scrambling out, they made their way across the country to the spot where
the English had been posted. They found the Earl of Salisbury, who
commanded, in a great state of uneasiness. No message had reached him
during the day. He had heard the alarm-bells of the city ring, and a
scout who had gone forward returned with the news that the gates were
closed and the drawbridges raised, and that a strong body of men manned
the walls.

"Your news is indeed bad," he said, when Walter related to him the
events which had taken place in the town. "This will altogether derange
the king's plans. Now that his ally is killed, I fear that his hopes of
acquiring Flanders for England will fall to the ground. It is a thousand
pities that he listened to Van Artevelde and allowed him to enter Ghent
alone. Had his majesty landed, as he wished, and made a progress through
the country, the prince receiving the homage of all the large towns, we
could then very well have summoned Ghent as standing alone against all
Flanders. The citizens then would, no doubt, have gladly opened their
gates and received the prince, and if they had refused we would have
made short work of them. However, as it has turned out, it is as well
that we did not enter the town with the Fleming, for against so large
and turbulent a population we should have had but little chance. And
now, Master Somers, we will march at once for Sluys and bear the news to
the king, and you shall tell me as we ride thither how you and your
man-at-arms managed to escape with whole skins from such a tumult."

The king was much grieved when he heard of the death of Artevelde, and
held a council with his chief leaders. At first, in his indignation and
grief, he was disposed to march upon Ghent and to take vengeance for the
murder of his ally, but after a time calmer counsels prevailed.

The Flemings were still in rebellion against their count, who was the
friend of France. Were the English to attack Ghent they would lose the
general good-will of the Flemings, and would drive them into the arms of
France, while, if matters were left alone, the effect of the popular
outburst which had caused the death of Artevelde would die away, and
motives of interest and the fear of France would again drive them into
the arms of England. The expedition therefore returned to England, and
there the king, in a proclamation to his people, avoided all allusion to
the death of his ally, but simply stated that he had been waited upon by
the councils of all the Flemish towns, and that their faithful obedience
to himself, as legitimate King of France, was established upon a firmer
basis than ever.

This course had the effect which he had anticipated from it. The people
of Flanders perceived the danger and disadvantage which must accrue to
their trade from any permanent disagreement with England. They were
convinced by the events which soon afterward happened in France that the
King of England had more power than Philip of Valois, and could, if he
chose, punish severely any breach of faith toward him. They therefore
sent over commissioners to express their grief and submission. The death
of Artevelde was represented as the act of a frantic mob, and severe
fines were imposed upon the leaders of the party who slew him, and
although the principal towns expressed their desire still to remain
under the rule of the Count of Flanders, they suggested that the ties
which bound them to England should be strengthened by the marriage of
Louis, eldest son of the count, to one of Edward's daughters. More than
this, they offered to create a diversion for the English forces acting
in Guienne and Gascony by raising a strong force and expelling the
French garrisons still remaining in some parts of the country. This was
done. Hugo of Hastings was appointed by the king captain-general in
Flanders, and with a force of English and Flemings did good service by
expelling the French from Termond and several other towns.

The character of Jacob van Artevelde has had but scant justice done to
it by most of the historians of the time. These, living in an age of
chivalry, when noble blood and lofty deeds were held in extraordinary
respect, had little sympathy with the brewer of Ghent, and deemed it
contrary to the fitness of things that the chivalry of France should
have been defied and worsted by mere mechanics and artisans. But there
can be no doubt that Artevelde was a very great man. He may have been
personally ambitious, but he was a true patriot. He had great military
talents. He completely remodeled and wonderfully improved the internal
administration of the country, and raised its commerce, manufactures,
and agriculture to a pitch which they had never before reached. After
his death his memory was esteemed and revered by the Flemings, who long
submitted to the laws he had made, and preserved his regulations with
scrupulous exactitude.

Edward now hastened to get together a great army. Every means were
adopted to raise money and to gather stores, and every man between
sixteen and sixty south of the Trent was called upon to take up arms
and commanded to assemble at Portsmouth in the middle of Lent. A
tremendous tempest, however, scattered the fleet collected to carry the
expedition, a great many of the ships were lost, and it was not until
the middle of July, 1346, that it sailed from England. It consisted of
about five hundred ships and ten thousand sailors, and carried four
thousand men-at-arms, ten thousand archers, twelve thousand Welsh, and
six thousand Irish.

This seems but a small army considering the efforts which had been made;
but it was necessary to leave a considerable force behind for the
defense of the Scottish frontier, and England had already armies in
Guienne and Brittany. Lionel, Edward's second son, was appointed regent
during his father's absence. On board Edward's own ship were Godfrey of
Harcourt and the Prince of Wales. Walter, as one of the personal squires
of the prince, was also on board.

The prince had been greatly interested in the details of Walter's escape
from Van Artevelde's house, the king himself expressed his approval of
his conduct, and Walter was generally regarded as one of the most
promising young aspirants at the court. His modesty and good temper
rendered him a general favorite, and many even of the higher nobles
noticed him by their friendly attentions, for it was felt that he stood
so high in the good-will of the prince that he might some day become a
person of great influence with him, and one whose good-will would be
valuable.

It was generally supposed, when the fleet started, that Guienne was
their destination, but they had not gone far when a signal was made to
change the direction in which they were sailing and to make for La Hogue
in Normandy. Godfrey of Harcourt had great influence in that province,
and his persuasions had much effect in determining the king to direct
his course thither. There was the further advantage that the King of
France, who was well aware of the coming invasion, would have made his
preparations to receive him in Guienne. Furthermore, Normandy was the
richest and most prosperous province in France. It had for a long time
been untouched by war, and offered great abundance of spoil. It had made
itself particularly obnoxious to the English by having recently made an
offer to the King of France to fit out an expedition and conquer England
with its own resources.

The voyage was short and favorable, and the expedition landed at La
Hogue, on the small peninsula of Cotentin, without opposition. Six days
were spent at La Hogue disembarking the men, horses, and stores, and
baking bread for the use of the army on the march. A detachment advanced
and pillaged and burned Barfleur and Cherbourg and a number of small
towns and castles.

In accordance with custom, at the commencement of the campaign a court
was held, at which the Prince of Wales was dubbed a knight by his
father. A similar honor was bestowed upon a number of other young
aspirants, among whom was Walter Somers, who had been highly
recommended for that honor to the king by Sir Walter Manny.

The force was now formed into three divisions--the one commanded by the
king himself, the second by the Earl of Warwick, and the third by
Godfrey of Harcourt. The Earl of Arundel acted as lord high constable,
and the Earl of Huntingdon, who was in command of the fleet, followed
the army along the sea-coast. Valognes, Carentan, and St. Lo were
captured without difficulty, and the English army advanced by rapid
marches upon Caen, plundering the country for six or seven leagues on
each side of the line of march. An immense quantity of booty was
obtained.

As soon as the news of Edward's landing in Normandy reached Paris,
Philip dispatched the Count d'Eu, Constable of France, with the Count of
Tankerville and six hundred men-at-arms, to oppose Edward at Caen. The
Bishop of Bayeux had thrown himself into that city, which was already
garrisoned by three hundred Genoese. The town was not defensible, and
the only chance of resistance was by opposing the passage of the river
Horn, which flowed between the suburbs and the city. The bridge was
barricaded, strong wooden towers were erected, and such was the
confidence of the inhabitants and their leaders that Edward's promise of
protection for the person and property of the citizens was rejected with
scorn, and the whole male population joined the garrison in the defense
of the bridge. Marching through the deserted suburbs the English army
attacked the bridge with such vehemence that although the enemy defended
the barricades gallantly they were speedily forced, and the English
poured into the town. Before the first fury of the attack was over near
five thousand persons were slain. The Count of Tankerville, one hundred
and forty knights, and as many squires were made prisoners. The plunder
was so enormous as to be sufficient to cover the whole expenses of the
expedition, and this with the booty which had been previously acquired
was placed on board ship and dispatched to England, while the king
marched forward with his army. At Lisieux he was met by two cardinals
sent by the pope to negotiate a truce; but Edward had learned the
fallacy of truces made with King Philip, and declined to enter into
negotiations. Finding that Rouen had been placed in a state of defense
and could not be taken without a long siege, he left it behind him and
marched along the valley of the Eure, gathering rich booty at every
step.

But while he was marching forward a great army was gathering in his
rear. The Count of Harcourt, brother of Godfrey, called all Normandy to
arms. Every feudal lord and vassal answered to the summons, and before
Edward reached the banks of the Seine a formidable army had assembled.

The whole of the vassals of France were gathering by the orders of the
king at St. Denis. The English fleet had now left the coast, and Edward
had only the choice of retreating through Normandy into Brittany or of
attempting to force the passage of the Seine, and to fight his way
through France to Flanders. He chose the latter alternative, and marched
along the left bank of the river toward Paris, seeking in vain to find a
passage. The enemy followed him step by step on the opposite bank, and
all the bridges were broken down and the fords destroyed.

Edward marched on, burning the towns and ravaging the country until he
reached Poissy. The bridge was as usual destroyed, but the piles on
which it stood were still standing, and he determined to endeavor to
cross here. He accordingly halted for five days, but dispatched troops
in all directions, who burned and ravaged to the very gates of Paris.
The villages of St. Germain, St. Cloud, Bourg la Reine, and many others
within sight of the walls were destroyed, and the capital itself thrown
into a state of terror and consternation. Godfrey of Harcourt was the
first to cross the river, and with the advance-guard of English fell
upon a large body of the burghers of Amiens, and after a severe fight
defeated them, killing over five hundred. The king himself with his
whole force passed on the 16th of August.

Philip, with his army, quitted St. Denis when he heard that the English
army had passed the Seine, and by parallel marches endeavored to
interpose between it and the borders of Flanders. As his force was every
hour increasing he dispatched messengers to Edward offering him battle
within a few days on condition that he would cease to ravage the
country; but Edward declined the proposal, saying that Philip himself by
breaking down the bridges had avoided a battle as long as he could, but
that whenever he was ready to give battle he would accept the challenge.
During the whole march the armies were within a few leagues of each
other, and constant skirmishes took place between bodies detached from
the hosts.

In some of these skirmishes Walter took part, as he and the other newly
made knights were burning to distinguish themselves. Every day the
progress of the army became more difficult, as the country people
everywhere rose against them, and several times attempted to make a
stand, but were defeated with great loss. The principal towns were found
deserted, and even Poix, which offered great capabilities of defense,
had been left unguarded. Upon the English entering, the burghers offered
to pay a large ransom to save the town from plunder. The money was to be
delivered as soon as the English force had withdrawn, and Walter Somers
was ordered by the king to remain behind with a few men-at-arms to
receive the ransom.

No sooner had the army departed than the burghers, knowing that the
French army was close behind, changed their minds, refused to pay the
ransom, and fell upon the little body of men-at-arms. Although taken
quite by surprise by this act of treachery Walter instantly rallied his
men, although several had been killed at the first onslaught. He, with
Ralph and two or three of the stanchest men, covered the retreat of the
rest through the streets, making desperate charges upon the body of
armed burghers pressing upon them. Ralph fought as usual with a mace of
prodigious weight, and the terror of his blows in no slight degree
enabled the party to reach the gate in safety, but Walter had no idea of
retreating further. He dispatched one of his followers to gallop at full
speed to overtake the rear-guard of the army, which was still but two
miles distant, while with the rest he formed a line across the gate and
resisted all the attempts of the citizens to expel them.

The approach to the gate was narrow, and the overwhelming number of the
burghers were therefore of little avail. Walter had dismounted his force
and all fought on foot, and although sorely pressed they held their
ground until Lords Cobham and Holland, with their followers, rode up.
Then the tide of war was turned, the town was plundered and burned, and
great numbers of the inhabitants slain. Walter gained great credit for
holding the gate, for had he been driven out, the town could have
resisted, until the arrival of Louis, all assaults of the English.

The river Somme now barred the passage of Edward. Most of the bridges
had been destroyed, and those remaining were so strongly fortified that
they could not be forced.

The position of the English was now very critical. On one flank and in
front were impassable rivers. The whole country was in arms against
them, and on their rear and flank pressed a hostile army fourfold their
strength. The country was swampy and thinly populated, and flour and
provisions were only obtained with great difficulty. Edward, on finding
from the reports of his marshals who had been sent to examine the
bridges, that no passage across the river could be found, turned and
marched down the river toward the sea, halting for the night at
Oisemont.

Here, a great number of peasantry attempted a defense, but were easily
defeated and a number of prisoners taken. Late in the evening the Earl
of Warwick, who had pushed forward as far as Abbeville and St. Valery,
returned with the news that the passages at those places were as
strongly guarded as elsewhere, but that he had learned from a peasant
that a ford existed somewhere below Abbeville, although the man was
himself ignorant of its position.

Edward at once called the prisoners belonging to that part of the
country before him, and promised to any one who would tell him where the
ford lay his freedom and that of twenty of his companions. A peasant
called Gobin Agase stepped forward and offered to show the ford, where
at low tide twelve men could cross abreast. It was, he said, called La
Blanche Tache.

Edward left Oisemont at midnight and reached the ford at daylight. The
river, however, was full and the army had to wait impatiently for low
tide. When they arrived there no enemy was to be seen on the opposite
bank, but before the water fell sufficiently for a passage to be
attempted, Sir Godemar du Fay with twelve thousand men, sent by King
Philip, who was aware of the existence of the ford, arrived on the
opposite side.

The enterprise was a difficult one indeed, for the water, even at low
tide, is deep. Godemar du Fay, however, threw away part of his advantage
by advancing into the stream. The English archers lined the banks, and
poured showers of arrows into the ranks of the enemy, while the Genoese
bowmen on their side were able to give comparatively little assistance
to the French.

King Edward shouted to his knights, "Let those who love me follow me,"
and spurred his horse into the water. Behind him followed his most
valiant knights, and Walter, riding close to the Prince of Wales, was
one of the foremost.

The French resisted valiantly and a desperate battle took place on the
narrow ford, but the impetuosity of the English prevailed, and step by
step they drove the French back to the other side of the river. The
whole army poured after their leaders, and the French were soon entirely
routed and fled, leaving two thousand men-at-arms dead on the field.

King Edward, having now freed himself from the difficulties which had
encompassed him on the other side of the river, prepared to choose a
ground to give battle to the whole French army.

Louis had advanced slowly, feeling confident that the English would be
unable to cross the river, and that he should catch them hemmed in by
it. His mortification and surprise on finding, when he approached La
Blanche Tache, that twelve thousand men had been insufficient to hold a
ford by which but twelve could cross abreast, and that his enemy had
escaped from his grasp, were great. The tide had now risen again, and he
was obliged to march on to Abbeville and cross the river there.

King Edward now advanced into the forest of Cressy.

Hugh de le Spencer, with a considerable force, was dispatched to Crotoy,
which he carried by assault after a severe conflict, in which four
thousand of the French men-at-arms were slain. The capture of this city
removed all danger of want from the army, for large stores of wine and
meal were found there, and Sir Hugh at once sent off a supply to the
tired army in the field.

The possession of Crotoy and the mouth of the Somme would have now
rendered it easy for the English monarch to have transported his troops
to England, and to have returned triumphant after the accomplishment of
his extraordinary and most successful march through France. The army,
however, was elated by the many great successes it had won, he was now
in Ponthieu, which was one of his own fiefs, and he determined to make a
stand in spite of the immense superiority of the enemy.

Next morning, then--Friday, the 25th of August, 1346--he dispatched the
Earl of Warwick, with Godfrey of Harcourt and Lord Cobham, to examine
the ground and choose a site for a battle.

The plan of the fight was drawn out by the king and his councilors, and
the king yielded to the Black Prince the chief place of danger and
honor, placing with him the Earl of Warwick, Sir John Chandos, and many
of his best knights.

The ground which had been chosen for the battle was an irregular slope
between the forest of Cressy and the river Maie near the little village
of Canchy. The slope looked toward the south and east, from which
quarters the enemy was expected to arrive, and some slight defenses were
added to the natural advantages of the ground.

On the night of the 25th all the principal leaders of the British host
were entertained by King Edward. Next morning mass was celebrated, and
the king, the prince, and many knights and nobles received the
sacrament, after which the trumpets sounded, and the army marched to
take up its position. Its numbers are variously estimated, but the best
account puts it at about thirty thousand men, which, considering that
thirty-two thousand had crossed the Channel to La Hogue, is probably
about the force which would have been present, allowing that two
thousand had fallen in the various actions or had died from disease.

The division of the Black Prince consisted of eight hundred men-at-arms,
four thousand archers, and six thousand Welsh foot. The archers, as
usual, were placed in front, supported by the light troops of Wales and
the men-at-arms; on his left was the second division, commanded by the
Earls of Arundel and Northampton; its extreme left rested on Canchy and
the river, and it was further protected by a deep ditch; this corps was
about seven thousand strong.

The king himself took up his position on a knoll of rising ground
surmounted by a windmill, and twelve thousand men under his personal
command were placed here in reserve.

In the rear of the prince's division an inclosure of stakes was formed;
in this, guarded by a small body of archers, were ranged the wagons and
baggage of the army, together with all the horses, the king having
determined that the knights and men-at-arms on his side should fight on
foot.

When the army had taken up its position, the king, mounted on a small
palfrey, with a white staff in his hand, rode from rank to rank
exhorting his soldiers to do their duty gallantly. It was nearly noon
before he had passed through all the lines, and permission was then
given to the soldiers to fall out from their ranks and to take
refreshments while waiting for the coming of the enemy. This was
accordingly done, the men eating and drinking at their ease and lying
down in their ranks on the soft grass, with their steel caps and their
bows or pikes beside them.

In the mean time the French had, on their side, been preparing for the
battle. Philip had crossed the Somme at Abbeville late on Thursday
afternoon, and remained there next day, marshaling the large
reënforcements which were hourly arriving. His force now considerably
exceeded one hundred thousand men, the number with which he had marched
from Amiens three days previously.

Friday was the Festival of St. Louis, and that evening Philip gave a
splendid banquet to the whole of the nobles of his army.

On the following morning the king, accompanied by his brother the Count
D'Alençon, the old King of Bohemia and his son, the King of Rome, the
Duke of Lorraine, the Count of Blois, the Count of Flanders, and a great
number of other feudal princes, heard mass at the abbey, and then
marched with his great army toward Cressy. He moved but slowly in order
to give time to all the forces scattered over the neighborhood to come
up, and four knights, headed by one of the King of Bohemia's officers,
went forward to reconnoiter the English position. They approached within
very short distance of the English lines and gained a very exact
knowledge of the position, the English taking no measures to interrupt
the reconnaissance. They returned with the information they had
gathered, and the leader of the party, Le Moyne de Basele, one of the
most judicious officers of his time, strongly advised the king to halt
his troops, pointing out that as it was evident the English were ready
to give battle, and as they were fresh and vigorous, while the French
were wearied and hungry, it would be better to encamp and give battle
the next morning.

Philip saw the wisdom of the advice and ordered his two marshals, the
Lord of St. Venant and Charles de Montmorency, to command a halt. They
instantly spurred off, one to the front and the other to the rear,
commanding the leaders to halt their banners. Those in advance at once
obeyed, but those behind still pressed on, declaring that they would not
halt until they were in the front line. All wanted to be first, in order
to obtain their share of the honor and glory of defeating the English.
Those in front, seeing the others still coming on, again pressed
forward, and thus, in spite of the efforts of the king and his marshals,
the French nobles with their followers pressed forward in confusion,
until, passing through a small wood, they found themselves suddenly in
the presence of the English army.

CHAPTER XIV.

CRESSY.

The surprise of the French army at finding themselves in the presence of
the English was so great that the first line recoiled in confusion.
Those marching up from behind imagined that they had been already
engaged and repulsed by the English, and the disorder spread through the
whole army, and was increased by the common people, who had crowded to
the field in immense numbers from the whole country round to see the
battle and share in the plunder of the English camp.

From King Edward's position on the rising ground he could see the
confusion which prevailed in the French ranks, and small as were his
forces, he would probably have obtained an easy victory by ordering a
sudden charge upon them. The English, however, being dismounted, but
small results would have followed the scattering of the great host of
the French. The English army therefore remained immovable, except that
the soldiers rose from the ground, and taking their places in the ranks,
awaited the onslaught of the enemy.

King Philip himself now arrived on the field, and his hatred for the
English led him at once to disregard the advice which had been given him
and to order the battle to commence as soon as possible.

The army was divided into four bodies, of which Philip commanded one,
the Count D'Alençon the second, the King of Bohemia the third, and the
Count of Savoy the fourth. Besides these were a band of fifteen thousand
mercenaries, Genoese cross-bowmen, who were now ordered to pass between
the ranks of cavalry and to clear the ground of the English archers, who
were drawn up in the usual form in which they fought--namely, in very
open order, line behind line, the men standing alternately, so that each
had ample room to use his bow and to fire over the heads of those in
front. The formation was something that of a harrow, and, indeed,
exactly resembled that in which the Roman archers fought, and was called
by them a quincunx.

The Genoese had marched four leagues beneath a hot sun loaded with their
armor and heavy cross-bows, and they remonstrated against the order,
urging that they were in no condition to do good service without some
repose. The Count D'Alençon, furious at their hesitation, ordered them
up, but as they advanced a terrible thunderstorm, with torrents of rain,
broke over the armies, and wetting the cords of the cross-bows rendered
many of them unserviceable. At length the cross-bowmen were arranged in
front, while behind them were the vast body of French cavalry, and the
order was given for the battle to begin.

The Genoese advanced with loud shouts, but the English archers paid no
attention to the noise, but waited calmly for the attack. At this moment
the sun, now approaching the west, shone out brightly between the clouds
behind the English, its rays streaming full in the faces of the French.
The Genoese were now within distance, and began to discharge their
quarrels at their impassive enemies, but as they opened fire the English
archers drew their bows from the cases which had protected them from the
rain, and stepping forward poured their arrows among the Genoese. The
cross-bowmen were smitten as with a storm, numbers were struck in the
face and other unprotected parts, and they were instantly thrown into
confusion, and casting away their cross-bows they recoiled in disorder
among the horsemen behind them.

Philip, passionate and cruel as ever, instead of trying to rally the
Genoese, ordered the cavalry behind them to fall upon them, and the
men-at-arms at once plunged in among the disordered mass of the
cross-bowmen, and a wild scene of carnage and confusion ensued, the
English archers continuing to pour their unerring arrows into the midst.
The Count D'Alençon, who was behind, separated his division into two
bodies, and swept round on one side himself, while the Count of Flanders
did the same on the other to attack the Prince of Wales in more regular
array. Taking a circuitous route, D'Alençon appeared upon a rising
ground on the flank of the archers of the Black Prince, and thus,
avoiding their arrows, charged down with his cavalry upon the eight
hundred men-at-arms gathered round the Black Prince, while the Count of
Flanders attacked on the other flank.

Nobly did the flower of English chivalry withstand the shock of the
French, and the prince himself and the highest nobles and simple
men-at-arms fought side by side. None gave way a foot.

In vain the French, with impetuous charges, strove to break through the
mass of steel. The spear-heads were cleft off with sword and battle-ax,
and again and again men and horses recoiled from the unbroken line. Each
time the French retired the English ranks were formed anew, and as
attack followed attack a pile of dead rose around them. The Count
D'Alençon and the Duke of Lorraine were among the first who fell. The
young Count of Blois, finding that he could not ride through the wall of
steel, dismounted with his knights and fought his way on foot toward the
banner of the Prince of Wales. For a time the struggle was desperate,
and the young prince, with his household knights, was for a time
well-nigh beaten back.

Walter, fighting close beside the prince, parried more than one blow
intended for him, and the prince himself slew the Count of Blois, whose
followers all fell around him. The Count of Flanders was also slain, and
confusion began to reign among the assailants, whose leaders had now
all fallen. Philip himself strove to advance with his division into the
fight, but the struggle between the Genoese and the men-at-arms was
still continuing, and the very multitude of his troops in the narrow and
difficult field which the English had chosen for the battle embarrassed
his movements.

Charles of Luxembourg, King of the Romans, and afterward Emperor of
Germany, son of the old King of Bohemia, with a large body of German and
French cavalry, now assailed the English archers, and in spite of their
flights of arrows came to close quarters, and cutting their way through
them joined in the assault upon the men-at-arms of the Black Prince.
Nearly forty thousand men were now pressing round the little body, and
the Earls of Northampton and Arundel moved forward with their divisions
to his support, while the Earl of Warwick, who was with the prince,
dispatched Sir Thomas of Norwich to the king, who still remained with
his powerful reserve, to ask for aid.

"Sir Thomas," demanded the king, "is my son killed, overthrown, or
wounded beyond help?"

"Not so, sire," replied the knight, "but he is in a rude fight, and much
needs your aid."

"Go back, Sir Thomas, to those who sent you, and tell them from me that
whatsoever happens they require no aid from me so long as my son is in
life. Tell them also that I command them to let the boy win his spurs,
for, God willing, the day shall be his, and the honor shall rest with
him and those into whose charge I have given him."

The prince and those around him were filled with fresh ardor when they
received this message. Each man redoubled his efforts to repel the
forces that were incessantly poured down upon them by the French. On all
sides these pressed around them, striving desperately, but ever in vain,
to break through the solid ranks of the English. The French men-at-arms
suffered, moreover, terribly from the attacks of the Welsh infantry.
These men, clad in thick leather jerkins, nimble of foot, accustomed to
a life of activity, were armed with shortened lances and knives, and
mingled fearlessly among the confused mass of French cavalry, creeping
beneath the horses' bellies, standing up when they got a chance, and
stabbing horses and men with their knives and pikes. Many were trampled
upon or struck down, but numbering, as they did, six thousand, they
pervaded the whole mass of the enemy, and did terrible execution, adding
in no small degree to the confusion caused by the shower of arrows from
the archers within the circle of the men-at-arms. The instant a French
knight fell, struck from his horse with a battle-ax or arrow, or by the
fall of a wounded steed, the half-wild Welsh were upon him and slew him
before he could regain his feet.

The slaughter was immense. The Count of Harcourt, with his nephew the
Count D'Aumale and his two gallant sons, fell together, and at last
Charles of Luxembourg, seeing his banner down, his troops routed, his
friends slain, and the day irreparably lost, and being himself severely
wounded in three places, turned his horse and fled, casting off his rich
emblazoned surcoat to avoid recognition. In the mean time Prince
Charles' father, the veteran King of Bohemia, once one of the most
famous warriors of Europe, but now old and blind, sat on horseback at a
little distance from the fight; the knights around him told him the
events as they happened, and the old monarch soon saw that the day was
lost. He asked them for tidings of his son Charles of Luxembourg, but
they were forced to reply that the banner of the King of the Romans was
no longer in sight, but that, doubtless, he was somewhere engaged in the
_mêlée_.

"Lords," said the old man, "you are my vassals, my friends, and my
companions, and on this day I command and beseech you to lead me forward
so far that I may deal one blow of my sword in the battle."

His faithful friends obeyed him, a number of knights arranged themselves
around him, and lest they should lose him in the fight they tied their
horses together by the bridles and charged down into the fray. Advancing
directly against the banner of the Prince of Wales, the blind monarch
was carried into the midst of the thickest strife. There the little
group of knights fought gallantly, and after the battle was over the
bodies of the king and his friends were found lying together, their dead
horses still linked by the bridles.

During this terrible battle, which had been raging since three o'clock,
Philip had made strenuous efforts to aid his troops engaged in the front
by continually sending fresh bodies to the assault. It was now growing
dark, terror and confusion had already spread among the French, and many
were flying in all directions, and the unremitting showers of English
arrows still flew like hail among their ranks. As the king made his way
forward, surrounded by his personal attendants, to take part himself in
the fight, his followers fell thick around him, and his horse was slain
by an arrow. John of Hainault, who had remained by his side during the
whole day, mounted him upon a fresh horse and urged him to fly, as the
day was lost. Philip, however, persisted, and made his way into the
_mêlée_, where he fought for some time with extreme courage, until
almost all around him were slain, the royal standard-bearer killed, and
himself wounded in two places. John of Hainault then seized his bridle,
exclaiming, "Come away, sire, it is full time; do not throw your life
away foolishly; if you have lost this day you will win another," and so
almost forced the unwilling king from the field. Philip, accompanied by
the lords of Montmorency, Beaujeu, Aubigny, and Mansault, with John of
Hainault and sixty men-at-arms, rode to the Castle of Broye, and there
halted for a few hours. At midnight he again set out, and in the morning
arrived safely at Amiens.

The Black Prince held his station until night without yielding a single
step to all the efforts of the French. Gradually, however, the
assailants became less and less numerous, the banners disappeared, and
the shouts of the leaders and the clang of arms died away, and the
silence which prevailed over the field at once announced that the
victory was complete and the enemy in full flight. An immense number of
torches were now lighted through the English lines, and the king,
quitting for the first time his station on the hill, came down to
embrace his gallant son. Edward and his host rejoiced in a spirit of
humility over the victory. No songs of triumph, no feastings or
merriment were permitted, but a solemn service of the Church was held,
and the king and his soldiers offered their thanks to God for the
victory he had given them. The English army lay all night under arms,
and a number of scattered parties of the French wandering about in the
darkness entered the lines and were slain or taken prisoners.

The dawn of the next morning was thick and foggy, and intelligence
coming in that a large body of the enemy were advancing upon them, the
Earls of Northampton, Warwick, and Norfolk, with five hundred
men-at-arms and two thousand archers, went out to reconnoiter, and came
in the misty twilight upon an immense force composed of the citizens of
Beauvais, Rouen, and some other towns, led by the Grand Prior of France
and the Archbishop of Rouen, who were approaching the field.

By some extraordinary accident they had not met any of the fugitives
flying from Cressy, and were ignorant that a battle had been fought.
The English charged them at once. Their advance-guard, consisting of
burghers, was easily overthrown. The second division, which was composed
of men-at-arms, fought bravely, but was unable to withstand the charge
of the triumphant English, and was completely broken and defeated. The
grand prior was killed and a vast number of his followers slain or
captured. During the whole of the morning detached parties from Edward's
army scoured the country, dispersing and slaughtering bands of French
who still remained together, and toward night the Earl of Northampton
returned to the camp with the news that no enemy remained in the
vicinity that could offer a show of resistance to the English force.

It is said that a far greater number of French were killed upon the
second day than upon the first. This can be accounted for by the fact
that on the first day but a small portion of the English army were
engaged, and that upon the second the English were fresh and vigorous,
and their enemies exhausted and dispirited.

The greater number of the French nobles and knights who fell died in
their attempt to break through the Black Prince's array. Besides the
King of Bohemia, nine sovereign princes and eighty great nobles were
killed, with twelve hundred knights, fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and
thirty thousand foot; while on the English side only three knights and a
small number of men-at-arms and infantry were killed. The body of the
King of Bohemia and those of the other great leaders were carried in
solemn pomp to the Abbey of Maintenay. Edward himself and his son
accompanied them as mourners.

On the Monday following Edward marched with his army against Calais, and
summoned the town to surrender. John of Vienne, who commanded the
garrison, refused to comply with the demand. The fortifications of the
town were extremely strong and the garrison numerous, and Edward
perceived that an assault would be very unlikely to succeed, and would
entail great loss, while a repulse would have dimmed the luster of the
success which he had gained. He therefore determined to reduce it by
famine, and the troops were set to work to build huts. So permanently
and strongly were these constructed that it seemed to the enemy that
King Edward was determined to remain before Calais even should he have
to stay there for ten years.

Proclamations were issued in England and Flanders inviting traders to
establish stores and to bring articles of trade of all kinds, and in a
short time a complete town sprang up which was named by Edward New-Town
the Bold. The English fleet held complete possession of the sea, cutting
off the besieged from all succor by ship, and enabling abundant supplies
for the army to be brought from England and Flanders. Strong parties
were sent out in all directions. The northern provinces of France were
scoured, and the army was amply provided with necessaries and even
luxuries.

After the first terrible shock caused by the crushing defeat of Cressy,
King Philip began at once to take measures for the relief of Calais, and
made immense efforts again to put a great army in the field. He
endeavored by all means in his power to gain fresh allies. The young
Count of Flanders, who at the death of his father at Cressy was sixteen
years of age, was naturally even more hostile to the English than the
late prince had been, and he strove to win over his subjects to the
French alliance, while Philip made them magnificent offers if they would
join him. The Flemings, however, remained stanch to the English
alliance, and held their prince in duress until he at last consented to
marry the daughter of Edward. A week before the date fixed for the
nuptials, however, he managed to escape from the vigilance of his guards
when out hawking, and fled to the court of France.

In Scotland, Philip was more successful, and David Bruce, instead of
employing the time given him by the absence of Edward with his armies in
driving out the English garrisons from the strong places they still held
in Scotland, raised an army of fifty thousand men and marched across the
border into England plundering and ravaging. Queen Philippa, however,
raising an army, marched against him, and the Scotch were completely
defeated at Neville's Cross, fifteen thousand being killed and their
king himself taken prisoner.

Walter's conduct at the battle of Cressy gained him still further the
favor of the Black Prince. The valor with which he had fought was
conspicuous even on a field where all fought gallantly, and the prince
felt that more than once he would have been smitten down had not
Walter's sword interposed. Ralph too had fought with reckless bravery,
and many French knights and gentlemen had gone down before the
tremendous blows of his heavy mace, against which the stoutest armor
availed nothing. After the battle the prince offered to make him an
esquire in spite of the absence of gentle blood in his veins, but Ralph
declined the honor.

"An it please you, Sir Prince," he said, "but I should feel more
comfortable among the men-at-arms, my fellows. In the day of battle I
trust that I should do no discredit to my squirehood, but at other times
I should feel woefully out of my element, and should find naught for my
hands to do; therefore, if it so pleases your royal highness, I would
far rather remain a simple man-at-arms."

Ralph did not, however, refuse the heavy purse which the prince gave
him, although indeed he, as well as all the soldiers, was well supplied
with money, so great were the spoils which the army had gathered in its
march before Cressy, and which they now swept off in their raids among
the northern provinces of France.

One evening Walter was returning from a banquet at the pavilion of the
Prince of Wales, with Ralph as usual following at a little distance,
when from a corner of the street a man darted suddenly out and struck a
dagger with all his force between his shoulders. Well was it for Walter
that he had taken Geoffrey's advice, and had never laid aside the shirt
of mail, night or day. Fine as was its temper, two or three links of the
outer fold were broken, but the point did not penetrate the second fold,
and the dagger snapped in the hand of the striker. The force of the
sudden blow, however, hurled Walter to the ground. With a loud cry Ralph
rushed forward. The man instantly fled. Ralph pursued him but a short
distance and then hastened back to Walter.

"Are you hurt, Sir Walter?" he exclaimed.

"In no way, Ralph, thanks to my shirt of mail. Well, indeed, was it for
me that I was wearing it or I should assuredly have been a dead man. I
had almost begun to forget that I was a threatened man; but I shall be
on guard for the future."

"I wish I had followed the fellow," Ralph said. "I would not have slain
him could I have helped it, but would have left it for the hangman to
extort from him the name of his employer; but, in truth, he struck so
hard, and you fell so straight before the blow, that I feared the mail
had given way, and that you were sorely wounded if not killed. You have
oft told me that I was over-careful of you, but you see that I was not
careful enough; however, you may be assured that if another attempt be
made those who attempt it shall not get off scot-free. Do you think of
laying a complaint before the provost against him you suspect?"

"It would be useless, Ralph. We may have suspicion of the man from whom
the blow came, but have no manner of proof. It might have been done by
any ruffian camp-follower, who struck the blow only with the hope of
carrying off my chain and purse. The camp swarms with such fellows, and
we have no clew which could lead to his detection, unless," he added,
stooping and picking up a piece of steel which lay at his feet, "this
broken dagger may some day furnish us with one. No; we will say naught
about it. Sir James Carnegie is not now in camp, having left a week
since on business in England. We exchange no words when we meet, but I
heard that he had been called away. Fortunately the young prince likes
him not, and I therefore have seldom occasion to meet him. I have no
doubt that he credits me with the disfavor in which he is held by the
prince; but I have never even mentioned his name before him, and the
prince's misliking is but the feeling which a noble and generous heart
has, as though by instinct, against one who is false and treacherous. At
the same time we must grant that this traitor knight is a bold and
fearless man-at-arms; he fought well at La Blanche Tache and Cressy, and
he is much liked and trusted by my Lord of Northampton, in whose
following he mostly rides; 'tis a pity that one so brave should have so
foul and treacherous a heart. Here we are at my hut, and you can sleep
soundly to-night, Ralph, for there is little fear that the fellow, who
has failed to-night, will repeat his attempt for some time. He thinks,
no doubt, that he has killed me, for with a blow so strongly struck he
would scarce have felt the snapping of the weapon, and is likely enough
already on board one of the ships which ply to and fro from England on
his way to acquaint his employer that I am removed from his path."

The next morning Walter mentioned to the Black Prince the venture which
had befallen him, and the narrow escape he had had of his life. The
prince was extremely exasperated, and gave orders that an inquisition
should be made through the camp, and that all men found there not being
able to give a good account of themselves as having reasonable and
lawful calling there should be forthwith put on board ship and sent to
England. He questioned Walter closely whether he deemed that this attack
was for the purpose of plunder only, or whether he had any reason to
believe that he had private enemies.

"There is a knight who is evilly disposed toward me, your highness,"
Walter said; "but seeing that I have no proof whatever that he had a
hand in this affair, however strongly I may suspect it, I would fain,
with your leave, avoid mentioning his name."

"But think you that there is any knight in this camp capable of so foul
an action?"

"I have had proofs, your highness, that he is capable of such an act;
but in this matter my tongue is tied, as the wrong he attempted was not
against myself, but against others who have so far forgiven him that
they would fain the matter should drop. He owes me ill-will, seeing that
I am aware of his conduct, and that it was my intervention which caused
his schemes to fail. Should this attempt against me be repeated it can
scarce be the effect of chance, but would show premeditated design, and
I would then, both in defense of my own life, and because I think that
such deeds should not go unpunished, not hesitate to name him to you,
and if proof be wanting to defy him to open combat."

"I regret, Sir Walter, that your scruples should hinder you from at once
denouncing him; but seeing how grave a matter it is to charge a knight
with so foul a crime, I will not lay stress upon you; but be assured
that should any repetition of the attempt be made I shall take the
matter in hand, and will see that this caitiff knight receives his
deserts."

A short time afterward Walter accompanied the prince in an excursion
which he made with a portion of the army, sweeping the French provinces
as far as the river Somme. Upon their way back they passed through the
village of Près, hard by which stood a small castle. It was situate some
forty miles from Calais, and standing upon rising ground it commanded a
very extensive view over the country.

"What say you, Sir Walter?" the prince said to the young knight who was
riding near him. "That castle would make a good advanced post, and a
messenger riding in could bring news of any large movements of the
enemy." Walter assented.

"Then, Sir Walter, I name you its chatelain. I shall be sorry to lose
your good company; but the post is one of peril, and I know that you are
ever longing to distinguish yourself. Take forty men-at-arms and sixty
archers. With that force you may make shift to resist any attack until
help reaches you from camp. You may be sure that I shall not be slack in
spurring to your rescue should you be assailed."

Walter received the proposal with delight. He was weary of the monotony
of life in New Town, and this post, in which vigilance and activity
would be required, was just to his taste; so, taking the force named by
the prince, with a store of provision, he drew off from the column and
entered the castle.

CHAPTER XV.

THE SIEGE OF A FORTALICE.

Walter's first step on assuming the command was to examine thoroughly
into the capabilities of defense of the place, to see that the well was
in good order, and the supply of water ample, and to send out a foraging
party, which, driving in a number of beasts and some cart-loads of
forage, would supply his garrison for some time. The castle he found was
less strong than it looked. The walls were lightly built, and were
incapable of withstanding any heavy battering. The moat was dry, and the
flanking towers badly placed, and affording little protection to the
faces of the walls; however, the extent of the defenses was small, and
Walter felt confident that with the force at his command he could resist
any sudden attack, unless made in overwhelming force, so that all the
faces of the wall could be assaulted at the same time. He had a large
number of great stones brought in to pile against the gate, while others
were brought into the central keep, similarly to defend the door should
the outer wall be carried. He appointed Ralph as his lieutenant, and
every day, leaving him in charge of the castle, rode through the
country for many miles round, with twenty men-at-arms, to convince
himself that no considerable force of the enemy were approaching. These
reconnaissances were not without some danger and excitement, for several
times bodies of the country people, armed with scythes, axes, and
staves, tried to intercept them on their return to the castle, and once
or twice Walter and his men had to fight their way through their
opponents. Contrary to the custom of the times, Walter gave orders to
his men not to slay any when resistance had ceased.

"They are but doing what we ourselves should do did French garrisons
hold our castles at home, and I deem them in no way to be blamed for the
efforts which they make to slay us. In self-defense, of course, we must
do our best, and must kill in order that we may not ourselves be slain;
but when they are once routed, let them go to their homes. Poor people,
the miseries which this war has brought upon them are great, and there
is no wonder that they hate us."

This leniency on Walter's part was not without good effect. When the
country people found that the garrison of the castle of Près did not
carry fire and sword through the villages around, that they took only
sufficient for their needs, and behaved with courtesy to all, their
animosity to a great extent subsided. No longer did the women and
children of the little villages fly to the woods when they saw the gleam
of Walter's approaching spears, but remained at their avocations, and
answered willingly enough the questions which he asked them as to
whether they had heard aught of the movements of French troops. So far
as possible, Walter refrained from seizing the cattle or stores of grain
of the poorer classes, taking such as he needed from the lands of the
wealthy proprietors, all of whom had left the country, and were either
with the French army or sheltering in Paris. Five of his best mounted
men Walter chose as messengers, and one rode each day to New Town with
the news which had been gathered, returning on the following day, and
then resting his horse for three days before again setting out.

Night and day sentries were placed on the walls, for although Walter
heard nothing of any body gathering in his immediate vicinity, a force
might at any moment issue from Amiens and appear suddenly before the
place. Such was indeed what really took place, and at daybreak one
morning Walter was aroused by the news that the sentinels saw a large
body of men rapidly approaching. The horse of the messenger next on duty
stood, as usual, saddled and bridled in readiness, and without a
moment's delay Walter ordered the man to mount and ride to the prince,
and to give news that the castle was assailed, but by how large a force
he could not as yet say.

The instant the messenger had started through the gates Walter ascended
to the walls; he saw at once that the party was a strong one; for
although still at some distance, and but dimly seen in the gray morning
light, he judged that it must contain at least a thousand men-at-arms.
At this moment a call from the sentry on the other side of the castle
was heard, and hastening thither, Walter saw that another body nearly as
numerous as the first were approaching from the side of Calais, having
made a _détour_ so as to place themselves between the castle and the
army, to which news would naturally be sent of their coming. Walter
watched his messenger, who had now ridden half a mile toward the
approaching body. Suddenly he saw him turn his horse and ride off at
right angles to the road.

"He sees them," he said, "and is going to try to ride round them. I fear
that there is but little hope of his escaping, seeing that they are
between him and Calais, and that assuredly some among them must be as
well or better mounted than himself." As he spoke a party of horsemen
were seen to detach themselves from the flank of the French column and
to gallop off at full speed to intercept the messenger; the latter
diverged more and more from his course, but he was constantly headed off
by his pursuers, and at last, seeing the impossibility of getting
through them, he again turned his horse's head and galloped off toward
the castle, which he reached a few hundred yards only in advance of his
foes.

"I could not help it, Sir Walter," he said as he galloped in at the
gate. "I found that although Robin is fast, some of those horsemen had
the turn of speed of me, and that it was impossible that I could get
through; so deeming that I should do more service by coming to strike a
blow here than by having my throat cut out in the fields, I made the
best of my way back."

"Quite right, Martin!" Walter said. "I should have been grieved had you
thrown your life away needlessly. I saw from the first that your escape
was cut off. And now, men, each to his place; but first pile up the
stones against the gate, and then let each man take a good meal, for it
is like enough to be long before we get a chance of doing so again."

Again ascending to the walls, Walter saw that the first body of
men-at-arms he had perceived was followed at a distance by a strong
force of footmen having with them some large wagons.

"I fear," he said to Ralph, "that they have brought machines with them
from Amiens, and in that case they will not be long in effecting a
breach, for doubtless they know that the walls are but weak. We shall
have to fight stoutly, for it may be days before the news of our leaguer
reaches the camp. However, I trust that the prince will, by to-morrow
night, when he finds that two days have elapsed without the coming of my
usual messenger, suspect that we are besieged and will sally forth to
our assistance. And now let us to breakfast, for we shall need all our
strength to-day, and you may be sure that the French will lose no time
in attacking, seeing that assistance may shortly arrive from Calais."

There were but few preparations to be made. Each man had had his post
assigned to him on the walls in case of an attack, and piles of stones
had been collected in readiness to cast down upon the heads of those
attempting an assault. Caldrons were carried up to the walls and filled
with water, and great fires were lighted under them. In half an hour the
French infantry had reached the spot, but another two hours elapsed
before any hostile movement was made, the leaders of the assailants
giving their men that time to rest after their long march. Then a stir
was visible among them, and they were seen to form in four columns, each
about a thousand strong, which advanced simultaneously against opposite
sides of the castle.

As soon as their intentions were manifest Walter divided his little
force, and these, gathering in four groups upon the walls, prepared to
resist the assault. To four of his most trusty men-at-arms he assigned
the command of these parties, he himself and Ralph being thus left free
to give their aid where it was most needed.

The assailants were well provided with scaling ladders, and advanced
with a number of cross-bowmen in front, who speedily opened a hot fire
on the walls. Walter ordered his archers to bide their time, and not to
fire a shot till certain that every shaft would tell. They accordingly
waited until the French arrived within fifty yards of the wall, when
the arrows began to rain among them with deadly effect; scarce one but
struck its mark--the face of an enemy. Even the closed visors of the
knights and chief men-at-arms did not avail to protect their wearers;
the shafts pierced between the bars or penetrated the slits left open
for sight, and many fell slain by the first volley. But their numbers
were far too great to allow the columns being checked by the fire of so
small a number of archers; the front ranks, indeed, pressed forward more
eagerly than before, being anxious to reach the foot of the wall, where
they would be in comparative shelter from the arrows.

The archers disturbed themselves in no way at the reaching of the wall
by the heads of the columns; but continued to shoot fast and true into
the mass behind them, and as these were, for the most part, less
completely armed than their leaders, numbers fell under the fire of the
sixty English bowmen. It was the turn of the men-at-arms now.
Immediately the assailants poured into the dry moat and sought to raise
their ladders the men-at-arms hurled down the masses of stones piled in
readiness, while some poured buckets of boiling water over them. In
spite of the loss they were suffering the French raised their ladders,
and covering their heads with their shields the leaders strove to gain
the walls. As they did so some of the archers took post in the flanking
towers, and as with uplifted arms the assailants climbed the ladders,
the archers smote them above the joints of their armor beneath the
armpits, while the men-at-arms with pike and battle-ax hewed down those
who reached the top of the ladders. Walter and Ralph hastened from point
to point encouraging the men and joining in the defense where the
pressure was hottest; and at last, after two hours of vain effort and
suffering great loss, the assailants drew off and the garrison had
breathing-time.

"Well done, my men!" Walter said cheeringly; "they have had a lesson
which they will remember, and if so be that they have brought with them
no machines we may hold out against them for any time."

It was soon manifest, however, that along with the scaling ladders the
enemy had brought one of their war-machines. Men were seen dragging
massive beams of timber toward the walls, and one of the wagons was
drawn forward and upset on its side at a distance of sixty yards from
the wall not, however, without those who drew it suffering much from the
arrows of the bowmen. Behind the shelter thus formed the French began to
put together the machine, whose beams soon raised themselves high above
the wagon.

In the mean time groups of men dragged great stones laid upon a sort of
hand sledge to the machine, and late in the afternoon it began to cast
its missiles against the wall. Against these Walter could do little. He
had no sacks, which, filled with earth, he might have lowered to cover
the part of the walls assailed, and beyond annoying those working the
machines by flights of arrows shot high in the air, so as to descend
point downward among them, he could do nothing.

The wall crumbled rapidly beneath the blows of the great stones, and
Walter saw that by the following morning a breach would be effected.
When night fell he called his men together and asked if any would
volunteer to carry news through the enemy to the prince. The enterprise
seemed well-nigh hopeless, for the French, as if foreseeing that
such an attempt might be made, had encamped in a complete circle
round the castle, as was manifest by the position of their fires.
Several men stepped forward, and Walter chose three light and active
men--archers--to attempt the enterprise. These stripped off their steel
caps and breast-pieces, so that they might move more quickly, and when
the French fires burned low and all was quiet save the creak of the
machine and the dull heavy blows of the stones against the wall, the
three men were lowered by ropes at different points, and started on
their enterprise. A quarter of an hour later the garrison heard shouts
and cries, and knew that a vigilant watch had been set by the French,
and that one, if not all, of their friends had fallen into their hands.
All night long the machine continued to play.

An hour before daylight, when he deemed that the enemy's vigilance would
be relaxed, Walter caused himself with Ralph and twelve of his
men-at-arms to be lowered by ropes from the wall. Each rope had a loop
at the bottom in which one foot was placed, and knots were tied in order
to give a better grasp for the hands. They were lowered at a short
distance from the spot at which the machine was at work; all were armed
with axes, and they made their way unperceived until within a few yards
of the wagon. Then there was a cry of alarm, and in a moment they rushed
forward among the enemy. The men working the machine were instantly cut
down, and Walter and his party fell upon the machine, cutting the ropes
and smashing the wheels and pulleys and hewing away at the timber
itself. In a minute or two, however, they were attacked by the enemy,
the officer in command having bade a hundred men lie down to sleep close
behind the machine in case the garrison should attempt a sortie. Walter
called upon Ralph and four of the men-at-arms to stand beside him while
the others continued their work of destruction. The French came up in a
tumultuous body, but standing so far apart that they could wield their
axes, the English dealt such destruction among their first assailants
that these for a time recoiled. As fresh numbers came up, encouraged by
their leader they renewed the attack, and in spite of the most
tremendous efforts Walter and his party were driven back. By this time,
however, so much damage had been done to the machine that it would be
some hours before it could be repaired, even if spare ropes and other
appliances had been brought with it from Amiens; so that, reënforced by
the working party, Walter was again able to hold his ground, and after
repulsing a fresh onslaught of the enemy he gave the word for his men to
retire at full speed.

The French were so surprised by the sudden disappearance of their foes
that it was a moment or two before they started in pursuit, and Walter
and his men had gained some thirty yards before the pursuit really
commenced.

The night was a dark one, and they considerably increased this advantage
before they reached the foot of the wall, where the ropes were hanging.

"Have each of you found his rope?" Walter asked.

As soon as an affirmative answer was given he placed his foot in the
loop and shouted to the men above to draw up, and before the enraged
enemy could reach the spot the whole party were already some yards above
their heads. The archers opened fire upon the French, doing, in spite of
the darkness, considerable execution, for the men had snatched up their
arms at the sudden alarm, and had joined the fray in such haste that
many of them had not had time to put on their steel caps. There was
noise and bustle in the enemy's camp, for the whole force were now under
arms, and in their anger at the sudden blow which had been struck them,
some bodies of men even moved forward toward the walls as if they
intended to renew the assault of the previous day; but the showers of
arrows with which they were greeted cooled their ardor, and they
presently retired out of reach of bow-shot. There was a respite now for
the besiegers. No longer every few minutes did a heavy stone strike the
walls.

The morning's light enabled the defenders of the castle to see the
extent of the damage which the battering machine had effected. None too
soon had they put a stop to its work, for had it continued its
operations another hour or two would have effected a breach.

Already large portions of the wall facing it had fallen, and other
portions were so seriously damaged that a few more blows would have
leveled them.

"At any rate," Walter said to Ralph, "we have gained a respite; but even
now I fear that if the Black Prince comes not until to-morrow he will
arrive too late."

The French, apparently as well aware as the garrison of the necessity
for haste, labored at the repair of the machine. Bodies of men started
to cut down trees to supply the place of the beams which had been
rendered useless. Scarcely had the assault ceased when horsemen were
dispatched in various directions to seek for fresh ropes, and by dint of
the greatest exertions the machine was placed in position to renew its
attack shortly after noon.

By two o'clock several large portions of the damaged wall had fallen,
and the _débris_ formed a slope by which an assaulting column could rush
to the bridge. As soon as this was manifest the French force formed for
the assault and rushed forward in solid column.

Walter had made the best preparation possible for the defense. In the
courtyard behind the breach his men had since morning been driving a
circle of piles, connected by planks fastened to them. These were some
five feet high, and along the top and in the face next to the breach
sharp-pointed spikes and nails had been driven, rendering it difficult
in the extreme for any one to climb over. As the column of the
assailants approached Walter placed his archers on the walls on either
side of the breach, while he himself, with his men-at-arms, took his
station in the gap and faced the coming host. The breach was some ten
yards wide, but it was only for about half this width that the mound of
broken stones rendered it possible for their enemies to assault,
consequently there was but a space of some fifteen feet in width to be
defended. Regardless of the flights of arrows, the French, headed by
their knights and squires, advanced to the assault, and clambering up
the rough stones attacked the defenders.

Walter, with Ralph and three of his best men-at-arms, stood in the front
line and received the first shock of the assault. The roughness and
steepness of the mound prevented the French from attacking in regular
order, and the very eagerness of the knights and squires who came first
in contact with their enemies was a hindrance to them. When the columns
were seen gathering for the assault Walter had scattered several barrels
full of oil and tar which he found in the cellars over the mound in
front of the breach, rendering it greasy and slippery, and causing the
assailants to slip and stagger and many to fall as they pressed forward
to the assault. Before the fight commenced he had encouraged his
soldiers by recalling to them how a mere handful of men had at Cressy
withstood for hours the desperate efforts of the whole of the French
army to break through their line, and all were prepared to fight to the
death.

The struggle was a desperate one. Served by their higher position, and
by the difficulties which the French encountered from the slipperiness
of the ground and their own fierce ardor to attack, Walter and his
little band for a long time resisted every effort. He with his sword and
Ralph with his heavy mace did great execution, and they were nobly
seconded by their men-at-arms. As fast as one fell another took his
place. The breach in front of them was cumbered with dead and red with
blood. Still the French poured upward in a wave, and the sheer weight of
their numbers and the fatigue caused by the tremendous exertions the
defenders were making began to tell. Step by step the English were
driven back, and Walter saw that the defense could not much longer be
continued. He bade one of his men-at-arms at once order the archers to
cease firing, and, leaving the walls, to take refuge in the keep, and
thence to open fire upon the French as they poured through the breach.

When he found that this movement had been accomplished Walter bade the
men-at-arms fall back gradually. A gap had been left in the wooden fence
sufficient for one at a time to pass, and through this the men-at-arms
retired one by one to the keep until only Walter and five others were
left. With these Walter flung himself suddenly upon the assailants and
forced them a few feet down the slope. Then he gave the word, and all
sprang back, and leaping down from the wall into the court-yard ran
through the barrier, Walter and Ralph being the last to pass as the
French with exulting shouts leaped down from the breach.

There was another fierce fight at the barrier. Walter left Ralph to
defend this with a few men-at-arms while he saw that all was in
readiness for closing the door rapidly in the keep. Then he ran back
again. He was but just in time. Ralph indeed could for a long time have
held the narrow passage, but the barriers themselves were yielding. The
French were pouring in through the breach, and as those behind could not
see the nature of the obstacle which arrested the advance of their
companions they continued to push forward, and by their weight pressed
those in front against the spikes in the barrier. Many perished
miserably on these. Others, whose armor protected them from this fate,
were crushed to death by the pressure; but this was now so great that
the timbers were yielding. Walter, seeing that in another moment they
would be leveled, gave the word, sprang back with Ralph and his party,
and entered the keep just as with a crash the barrier fell and the
French poured in a crowd into the court-yard. Bolting the door the
defenders of the keep piled against it the stones which had been laid in
readiness.

The door was on the first floor, and was approached by a narrow flight
of stone steps, up which but two abreast could advance. In their first
fury the French poured up these steps, but from the loop-holes which
commanded it the English bowmen shot so hard that their arrows pierced
the strongest armor. Smitten through visor and armor, numbers of the
bravest of the assailants fell dead. Those who gained the top of the
steps were assailed by showers of boiling oil from an upper chamber
which projected over the door, and whose floor was pierced for this
purpose, while from the top of the keep showers of stones were poured
down. After losing great numbers in this desperate effort at assault the
French drew off for awhile, while their leaders held council as to the
best measures to be taken for the capture of the keep.

After a time Walter from the summit saw several bodies of men detach
themselves from the crowd still without the castle and proceed into the
country. Two hours later they were seen returning laden with trunks of
trees. These were dragged through the breach, and were, in spite of the
efforts of the archers and of the men-at-arms with their stones, placed
so as to form a sort of penthouse against one side of the keep. Numbers
of the soldiers now poured up with sacks and all kinds of vessels which
they had gathered from the surrounding villages, filled with earth. This
was thrown over the beams until it filled all the crevices between them
and formed a covering a foot thick, so that neither boiling oil nor
water poured from above could penetrate to injure those working beneath
its shelter. When all was ready a strong body armed with picks and
crowbars entered the penthouse and began to labor to cut away the wall
of the keep itself.

"Their commander knows his business," Walter said, "and the device is an
excellent one. We can do nothing, and it only depends upon the strength
of the wall how long we can hold out. The masonry is by no means good,
and before nightfall, unless aid comes, there will be naught for us but
death or surrender."

CHAPTER XVI.

A PRISONER.

As long as it was light an anxious lookout was kept from the top of the
keep toward Calais. There was nothing to be done. The besiegers who had
entered the walls were ensconced in the various buildings in the
court-yard or placed behind walls so as to be out of arrow-shot from
above, and were in readiness to repel any sortie which might be made to
interfere with the work going on under the penthouse. But no sortie was
possible, for to effect this it would be necessary to remove the stones
from the door, and before this could be accomplished the besiegers would
have rallied in overwhelming force, nor could a sortie have effected
anything beyond the slaying of the men actually engaged in the work. The
beams of the penthouse were too strong and too heavily weighted with
earth to be removed, and the attempt would only have entailed useless
slaughter. The penthouse was about forty feet in length, and the
assailants were piercing three openings, each of some six feet in width,
leaving two strong supporting pillars between them. Anxiously the
garrison within listened to the sounds of work, which became louder and
louder as the walls crumbled before the stroke of pickax and crowbar.

"I shall hold out until the last moment," Walter said to Ralph, "in
hopes of relief, but before they burst in I shall sound a parley. To
resist further would be a vain sacrifice of life."

Presently a movement could be seen among the stones, and then almost
simultaneously two apertures appeared. The chamber into which the
openings were made was a large one, being used as the common room of the
garrison. Here twenty archers and the remaining men-at-arms--of whom
nearly one-half had fallen in the defense of the breach--were gathered,
and the instant the orifices appeared the archers began to send their
arrows through them. Then Walter ascended to another chamber, and
ordered the trumpeter to sound a parley.

The sound was repeated by the assailants' trumpeter.

"Who commands the force?" Walter asked.

"I, Guy, Count of Evreux."

"I am Sir Walter Somers," the young knight continued. "I wish to ask
terms for the garrison."

"You must surrender unconditionally," the count replied from the
court-yard. "In ten minutes we shall have completely pierced your walls,
and you will be at our mercy."

"You may pierce our walls," Walter replied, "but it will cost you many
lives before you force your way in; we will defend the hold from floor
to floor, and you know how desperate men can fight. It will cost you
scores of lives before you win your way to the summit of this keep; but
if I have your knightly word that the lives of all within these walls
shall be spared, then will I open the doors and lay down our arms."

A consultation took place between the leaders below. There was truth in
Walter's words that very many lives would be sacrificed before the
resistance of so gallant a garrison could be overcome. Every minute was
of importance, for it was possible that at any moment aid might arrive
from Calais, and that the table would be turned upon the besiegers.
Therefore, after a short parley among themselves, the count replied:

"You have fought as a gallant knight and gentleman, Sir Walter Somers,
and have wrought grievous harm upon my leading. I should grieve that so
brave a knight should lose his life in a useless resistance. Therefore I
agree to your terms, and swear upon my knightly honor that upon your
surrendering yourselves prisoners of war, the lives of all within these
walls shall be spared."

Walter at once gave the order. The stones were removed and the door
thrown open, and leading his men Walter descended the steps into the
court-yard, which was now illuminated with torches, and handed his sword
to the Count of Evreux.

"You promised me, count," a tall knight standing by his side said, "that
if he were taken alive, the commander of this castle should be my
prisoner."

"I did so, Sir Philip Holbeaut. When you proposed this adventure to me,
and offered to place your following at my command, I agreed to the
request you made me; but mind," he said sternly, "my knightly word has
been given for his safety. See that he receives fair and gentle
treatment at your hand. I would not that aught should befall so brave a
knight."

"I seek him no harm," the knight said angrily; "but I know that he is
one of the knights of the Black Prince's own suit, and that his ransom
will be freely paid, and as my coffers are low from the expenses of the
war, I would fain replenish them at the expense of the English prince."

"I said not that I doubted you, Sir Philip," the count said calmly; "but
as the knight surrendered on my word, it was needful that I should warn
you to treat him as I myself should do did he remain in my hands, and to
give him fair treatment until duly ransomed."

"I should be glad, count," Walter said, "if you will suffer me to take
with me as companion in my captivity this man-at-arms. He is strongly
attached to me, and we have gone through many perils together; it will
lighten my captivity to have him by my side."

"Surely I will do so, Sir Walter, and wish that your boon had been a
larger one. The rest I will take back with me to Amiens, there to hold
until exchanged for some of those who at various times have fallen into
your king's hands. And now to work, men; lose not a moment in stripping
the castle of all that you choose to carry away, then apply fire to the
storehouses, granaries, and the hold itself. I would not that it
remained standing to serve as an outpost for the English."

The horses were brought from the stables. Walter and Ralph took their
horses by the bridle, and followed Sir Philip Holbeaut through the now
open gates of the castle to the spot where the horses of the besiegers
were picketed. The knight and his own men-at-arms, who had at the