When war began again in Italy at the close of the year 1510, Louis XII.
found that he had no allies except the Duke of Ferrara and some Swiss
mercenaries. Pope Julius II. had joined forces with the Venetians in his
eager desire to drive the French out of Italy, and he was also extremely
wroth with Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara. He sent word to the widowed Countess
of Mirandola that she should give up her city into his hands, as he
required it for his attack upon Ferrara.
When at length the brave defenders had been compelled to yield their
citadel, Pope Julius refused to take possession of the conquered city in
the usual way by riding in through the gate; he had a bridge thrown across
the frozen moat and climbed in through a breach in the walls. It must have
been a gallant sight to look upon, when he politely escorted the angry
Countess of Mirandola out of the home she had so bravely defended, while
she held her head high and boldly spoke her mind, with pride and assurance
as great as his own.
When news of the fall of Mirandola reached the Duke of Ferrara he expected
that the next move would be an attack on Ferrara itself. He therefore
destroyed the bridge which he had made across the Po, and retreated with
all his army to his own strong city. The Castello of Ferrara, in the very
heart of the city, standing four-square with its mighty crenellated towers,
was one of the most famous fortresses of Italy and was believed to be
impregnable; only by famine could it be taken.
The Pope's wisest captains and his nephew, the Duke of Urbino, pointed out
that Ferrara was thoroughly fortified, well provided with artillery of the
newest make, and was defended by an army of well-tried soldiers, amongst
whom was the French company commanded by Bayard. One noted Venetian captain
thus gave his opinion: "Holy Father, we must prevent any provisions
arriving at Ferrara by the river, and also from Argenta and the country
round, which is very rich and fertile. But this we shall scarcely
accomplish unless we take La Bastida, a place about twenty-five miles from
Ferrara; but if once this fortress is in our hands we can starve out the
city in two months, considering what a number of people are within its
walls."
Pope Julius saw the point at once and exclaimed: "Certainly, we must have
that place; I shall not rest until it is taken."
We may imagine the dismay of the governor of La Bastida when he saw a
formidable army arrive, for it happened at the time that he had only a weak
garrison. He instantly sent off a messenger to Ferrara, before the castle
was surrounded and the artillery set in position, pointing out the extreme
peril and the absolute need of immediate help. The trusty man made such
haste that he reached Ferrara about noon, having taken hardly six hours on
the way. It so chanced that he met Bayard at the city gate, and on the Good
Knight asking what news he brought, he replied:
"My lord, I come from La Bastida, which is besieged by seven or eight
thousand men, and the commander sends me to tell the Duke that if he does
not receive help he will not be able to hold the place until to-morrow
night if they try to take it by assault ... for he has only twenty-five men
of war within the walls...."
Bayard at once hastened with him to the Duke, whom he met riding in the
market-place with the lord of Montboison. They thought at first that a spy
had been taken, but soon learnt that he was the bearer of bad news. As the
Duke read the letter which the commander had written he turned pale, and
when he had finished he shrugged his shoulders and said: "If I lose La
Bastida I may as well abandon Ferrara, and I do not see how we can possibly
send help within the time mentioned, for he implores assistance before
to-morrow morning, and it is impossible."
"Why?" asked the lord of Montboison.
"Because it is five-and-twenty miles from here, and in this bad weather it
will be more than that," replied the Duke. "There is a narrow way for about
half a mile where the men will have to go one after the other. Besides,
there is another thing, for if our enemies knew of a certain passage twenty
men could hold it against ten thousand, but I trust they will not discover
it."
When the Good Knight saw how distressed the Duke was, he said:
"My lord, when a small matter is at stake we may hesitate; but when we are
threatened with utter destruction we must try any means. The enemies are
before La Bastida, and they are quite confident that we shall not dare to
leave this city to raise the siege, knowing that the great army of the Pope
is so near us. I have thought of a plan which will be easy to carry out, if
fortune is with us.
"You have in this town four or five thousand foot-soldiers, well hardened
and good soldiers; let us take two thousand of them with eight hundred
Swiss under Captain Jacob and send them this night in boats up the river.
You are still master of the Po as far as Argenta; they will go and wait for
us at the passage you spoke of. If they arrive there first they will take
it, and the men-at-arms who are in this town will ride by the road all this
night. We shall have good guides and will so manage as to arrive by
daybreak and thus join the others; our enemies will have no suspicion of
this enterprise. From the passage you spoke of it is three miles or less to
La Bastida; before they have time to put themselves in order of battle we
will attack them sharply, and my heart tells me that we shall defeat them."
The Duke, delighted, replied with a smile: "Upon my word, Sir Bayard,
nothing seems impossible to you! But I believe that if the gentlemen who
are here agree with you, we shall indeed win...." No one made any
difficulty; on the contrary, the captains of the men-at-arms were so
delighted that, as the chronicler says, "they thought they were in
Paradise." The boats were all prepared as quietly and secretly as possible,
for in the city there were known to be many friends of the Pope.
Fortunately it was the dead of winter, when the nights were long. As soon
as it was dark the foot-soldiers embarked in the boats, which were provided
with trusty and experienced boatmen. The horsemen, led by the Duke in
person, also set forth as soon as the twilight came; they took good guides,
and had a safe journey notwithstanding the stormy weather. Thus it
happened that half an hour before dawn they arrived at the narrow passage,
where all was lonely and quiet, at which they rejoiced greatly. They had
not been waiting half an hour before the boats arrived with the
foot-soldiers.
The men landed and then marched slowly by a narrow path until they reached
a very deep canal between the Po and La Bastida, where they had to cross a
little bridge so narrow that they had to go one after the other. This took
a whole hour to cross, so that it was now quite daylight, which made the
Duke anxious, more especially as, hearing no sound of artillery, he feared
the fortress had been taken. But just as he was speaking about it there
thundered forth three cannon shots, at which all the company was delighted.
They were now only a mile from the enemy, and the Good Knight said:
"Gentlemen, I have always heard it said that he is a fool who makes light
of his foes; we are now close to ours, and they are three to one. If they
knew of our enterprise it would be very bad for us, as they have artillery
and we have none. Besides, I believe that on this occasion all the flower
of the Pope's army is before us; we must take them by surprise if possible.
I would propose sending du Fay with fifteen or twenty horsemen to sound the
alarm on the side from which the enemy came, and Captain Pierre du Pont
with a hundred men-at-arms should be within a bow-shot to support him, and
we will also send him Captain Jacob with his Swiss. You, my lord," he said
to the Duke, "with my lord of Montboison, my companions and myself, we will
go straight to the siege, and I will go in front to give the alarm. If du
Fay is first in position and they attack him, we will go forward and
enclose them; but if our party is first, Captain Pierre du Pont and the
Swiss will do so on their side. That will astonish them so much that they
will not know what to do, for they will think we are three times as many
men as we are, and especially when all our trumpets sound forth at once."
No one had anything better to suggest, for indeed the Good Knight was so
great an authority in war that all were glad to follow where he led.
The attack was thus made on both sides, du Fay giving such a tremendous
alarm on the outer side of the camp that the enemies hastily began to put
on their armour, to mount their horses, and go straight towards where they
heard the trumpets. The foot-soldiers set about arranging themselves in
battle order, but fortunately this took so long that meantime the
assailants of du Fay were attacked and driven back by Pierre du Pont, while
the Swiss poured down upon the foot-soldiers, whose number would have
overwhelmed them had not the men-at-arms rode down upon the papal infantry
from the other side.
The Duke and the French company, with two thousand foot-soldiers, who had
arrived under the walls without being observed, now joined in the fray from
the other side, to the utter confusion of the enemy, who were completely
surrounded and cut to pieces. Some of the horsemen of the papal army made a
desperate attempt to rally, but Bayard and another captain called their
ensigns and rode straight at them, with the cry of: "France! France! The
Duke! the Duke!" and charged them with such vehemence that most of them
were brought to the ground. The fighting went on for a good hour, but at
last the camp was lost and those escaped who could, but they were not many.
This battle cost the Pope about three thousand men, all his artillery and
camp furnishing, and was the salvation of the duchy of Ferrara. More than
three hundred horses remained in the hands of the conquerors, besides many
prisoners of importance.
Indeed, we do not wonder that so much stress is laid upon this victory by
the chronicler of Bayard, as it was solely due to his energy and
resolution. The battle took place on February 11, 1511.
It was at the siege of Brescia that the fame of Bayard reached its highest
point. His splendid courage in volunteering to place himself in the
forefront of battle and face the dreaded hand-guns of the arquebusiers is
the more striking as he had a special hatred of these new arms which were
coming more and more into use. All this gunpowder business was detestable
to the great knight, who had been trained in the old school of chivalry,
where gentlemen showed their skill in the use of arms, and fought bravely
against each other, while a battle was a kind of glorified tournament. "It
is a shame," he used to say, "that a man of spirit should be exposed to be
killed by a miserable stone or iron ball against which he cannot defend
himself."
Bayard always seems to us singularly free from the superstitions of his
day, but we cannot forget that an astrologer had foretold his death from
one of these new machines of war.
When all preparations had been made for the assault of the city, the Duke
of Nemours said to the captains of the army: "My lords, there is one thing
that for God's sake we must consider. You know that if this town is taken
by assault, it will be ruined and pillaged, and many will be put to death,
which seems a great pity. We must try once, before they put it to the
touch, whether they will surrender."
This was agreed to, and the next morning a trumpeter was sent forth from
the citadel, who marched down to the first rampart of the enemy where the
Doge, Messire Andrea Gritti, and his captains came to meet him. The
trumpeter asked if he might enter the town, but was told that he might say
what he liked to those present who had the authority to answer him. Then he
gave his message, saying that if they would give up the city they should
all be free to go forth and their lives would be safe, but if it were taken
by assault they would probably all be killed.
The answer they gave was to bid him return, for the town belonged to the
Republic of Venice, and so would remain, and they would take good care that
no Frenchman should ever set foot within.
The trumpeter brought back his answer, and when it was heard, there was no
more delay for the men were already in battle order.
"Well, gentlemen, we must all do our best.... Let us march," said Gaston de
Foix, Duc de Nemours, "in the name of God and my lord St. Denis." Drums,
trumpets, and bugles sounded an alarm. The enemy replied with a burst of
artillery, and the attacking party from the citadel began their descent
down the hill, where the ground was very slippery, for there had been rain
in the night. The general and many other knights took off their broad,
plated shoes to gain a firmer hold with the felt slippers worn under the
armour, for no one wished to be left behind. At the first rampart there was
a fierce conflict, for it was splendidly defended, and while the Good
Knight's company cried "Bayard! Bayard! France!" the enemy replied with
"Marco! Marco!" making so much noise as to drown the sound of the
hand-guns. The Doge, Andrea Gritti, encouraged his followers by saying to
them in the Italian tongue: "Hold firm, my friends, the French will soon
be tired, and if we can defeat this Bayard, the others will never come on."
But in spite of all his encouragement his men began to give way, and seeing
this the Good Knight cried: "Push on, push on, comrades! It is ours; only
march forward and we have won." He himself was the first to enter and cross
the rampart with about a thousand men following after him, and so with much
fighting the first fort was taken with great loss of life to the defenders.
But in the very moment of victory the Good Knight was wounded, receiving
the blow of a pike in his thigh, which entered in so deeply that the iron
was broken and remained in the wound. He believed himself stricken to death
from the pain he suffered, and turning to his friend, the lord of Molart,
he said: "Companion, advance with your men, the city is gained; but I can
go no further for I am dying." He was losing so much blood that he felt he
must either die without confession, or else permit two of his archers to
carry him out of the mêlée and do their best to staunch the wound.
When the news spread that their hero and champion was mortally wounded the
whole army, captains and men alike, were all moved to avenge his death, and
fought with fierce courage. Nothing could resist them, and at length they
entered pell-mell into the city, where the citizens and the women threw
great stones and boiling water from the windows upon the invaders, doing
more harm than all the soldiers had done. But the men of Venice were
utterly defeated, and many thousands remained in their last sleep in the
great piazza and the narrow streets where they had been pursued by the
enemy. Of that proud army which had held Brescia with bold defiance, such
as were not slain were taken prisoners, and among these was the Doge of
Venice himself. Then followed an awful time of pillage and every form of
cruelty and disorder, as was ever the way in those days when a city was
taken by storm. The spoils taken were valued at three millions of crowns,
and this in the end proved the ruin of the French power in Italy, for so
many of the soldiers, demoralised by plunder, deserted with their
ill-gotten gains and went home.
Meantime the wounded Bayard was borne into the city by his two faithful
archers and taken to a quiet street from whence the tide of battle had
passed on. Here they knocked at the door of a fine house whose master had
fled to a monastery, leaving his wife in charge. The good lady opened it at
once to receive the wounded soldier, and Bayard, turning to his men, bade
them guard the house against all comers, being assured that when they heard
his name none would attempt to enter. "And rest assured that what you lose
in the matter of spoil I will make good to you," he added. The lady of the
house led the way to her guest-chamber, whither the Good Knight was
carried, and she threw herself on her knees before him, saying: "Noble
lord, I present to you this house and all that is in it, for it is yours by
right of war, but I pray you to spare my honour and my life and that of my
two young daughters...." She had hidden away the poor girls in an attic
under the hay, but Bayard soon set her mind at rest, and gave her his
knightly word that her house would be as safe as a sanctuary. Then he asked
if she knew of a surgeon, and she went to fetch her own doctor, under the
escort of one of the archers. When he arrived he dressed the wound, which
was very deep and jagged, but he assured his patient that he was in no
danger of death, and would probably be on horseback again in less than a
month.
Great was the joy of the Duc de Nemours and of all the French army when
this good report reached them, and the general, who remained in Brescia for
about a week, paid him a visit every day. He tried to comfort him by the
prospect of another battle before long against the Spaniards, and bade him
be quick and get well, for they could not do without him. The Good Knight
made reply that if there should be a battle he would not miss it for the
love he bore to his dear Gaston de Foix and for the King's service; rather
he would be carried thither in a litter.
Before leaving, when he had placed the hapless city in some kind of order
and government, Gaston sent the Good Knight many presents and five hundred
crowns, which he at once gave to his faithful archers. The Duke had,
indeed, no choice about his movements, for he received most urgent letters
from the King of France, who wanted the Spaniards to be driven out of
Lombardy as soon as possible, for France was threatened on every side, by
the King of England and by the Swiss.
The Good Knight was compelled to remain in bed for nearly five weeks, to
his great annoyance, for he received news from the French camp every day,
and there was constant talk of an approaching battle. So he sent for the
surgeon who attended him and told him that all this worry was making him
much worse, and that he must be allowed to join the camp. Seeing what kind
of warrior he had to deal with, the good man replied that the wound was not
closed but was healing well, and that there would be no danger in his
sitting on horseback, but the wound must be carefully dressed night and
morning by his barber. If any one had given Bayard a fortune he would not
have been so delighted, and he settled to start in two days' time. On the
morning when he was to leave after dinner, the good lady of the house came
to speak to him. She knew that by the laws of war she, her daughters, and
her husband (who had long since returned from the monastery where he had
taken refuge) were all prisoners of this French knight, and all that was in
the house belonged to him. But she had found him so kind and courteous that
she hoped to gain his favour by a handsome present, and she brought with
her one of her servants bearing a steel casket containing 2500 ducats. On
entering the Good Knight's chamber she fell on her knees before him, but he
would not suffer her to speak a word until she was seated by his side. Then
she poured out all her gratitude for his knightly courtesy and protection,
and at last offered him the casket, opening it to show what it contained.
But Bayard put it aside with a friendly smile, and replied:
"On my word, dear lady, I have never cared for money all my life! No riches
could ever be so precious to me as the kindness and devoted care which you
have shown to me during my stay with you, and I assure you that so long as
I live you will always have a faithful gentleman at your command. I thank
you very much for your ducats, but I pray that you will take them back...."
However, the lady was so much distressed at his refusal that he at length
accepted the casket, but begged her to send her daughters to wish him
good-bye. When they came and would have fallen on their knees before him,
he would not suffer such humility, but thanked them for all their kindness
in cheering him with their lute and spinet and singing during his illness,
and begged them to accept the ducats contained in their mother's casket,
which he poured out into their aprons whether they would or not. Overcome
by his courteous persuasion, the mother thanked him with tears in her eyes:
"Thou flower of knighthood to whom none can compare, may the Blessed
Saviour reward thee in this world and the next." When the Good Knight's
horses were brought round at mid-day, after dinner, the two fair maidens
brought him some presents of their own needlework, bracelets made with hair
bound with gold and silver threads, and a little embroidered purse, which
he gallantly placed in his sleeve, and the bracelets on his arms, with many
thanks, to the great delight of the girls. Thus with friendly words and
courtly farewells he took his leave, and rode away with a goodly company of
friends towards the camp near Ravenna, where he was welcomed with the
greatest joy and honour by all the French army.
When Gaston de Foix, Duke of Nemours, arrived at the camp before Ravenna he
assembled all the captains together to consider what was to be done, for
the French army began to suffer very much on account of the scarcity of
provisions, which could only be obtained with great difficulty. They were
very short of bread and wine, because the Venetians had cut off the
supplies from one side and the Spanish army held all the coast of Romagna.
There was also another reason for haste, which was not yet known to the
French leaders. Maximilian had long been uncertain and vacillating in his
alliances, but had now definitely decided to join the side of Pope Julius
and the King of Spain. As usual there were companies of German and Swiss
mercenaries both in the Italian army and also with the French, and these
owed some kind of allegiance to the sovereign of their land. Thus it was
that the Emperor had sent word to the companies of German "landsknechte"
that they were to retire home at once and were not to fight against the
Spaniards. Now it so happened that this letter had only been seen by the
Captain Jacob, who commanded these mercenaries in the French army, and he,
being a great friend of Bayard, privately asked his advice, first telling
him that having accepted the pay of the French King he had no intention of
thus betraying him in the hour of battle. But he suggested that it would be
well to hurry on the impending battle before other letters should come from
the Emperor and give the men an excuse for retiring. The Good Knight saw
how urgent the matter was and advised him to declare it to the general, the
Duc de Nemours.
Duke Gaston, who had now heard of the Emperor's letter, said that they had
no choice, and also that his uncle, the King of France, was sending
constant messengers to hurry on war operations as he was in sore straits.
Bayard was asked to give his opinion, and he modestly replied that he had
only just arrived and others might know more, but as far as he could learn,
the besieged were promised that a large army from Naples and Rome would
come to their help in a few days, certainly before Easter, and this was
Maundy Thursday. "And on the other hand," he added, "our men have no
provisions and the horses are reduced to eating willow leaves, so that each
day's delay makes it worse for us. You see, too, the King our master writes
to us every day to hasten our movements, therefore I advise that we give
battle. But we must use all caution for we have to do with brave and good
fighting men, and we cannot deny the risk and danger. There is one comfort:
the Spaniards have been in Romagna for a year, fed like fish in the water
till they are fat and full, while our men, having undergone much hardship,
have longer breath. Remember that to him who fights longest the camp will
remain."
At this every one smiled, for Bayard always had such a bright and pleasant
way of putting things that men loved to hear him. His advice was followed
and all was made ready for a determined assault on the city next day, which
was Good Friday. The captains and their men set forth in gallant mood, as
though they went to a wedding, and so fierce was the attack of the
artillery that before long a small breach was made in the fortification,
but the defenders fought so well that it was not possible to break through
and at length the retreat was sounded. This was really a fortunate thing,
as if the soldiery had begun pillaging the place the coming battle would
certainly have been lost, and the relieving army was now within two miles
of Ravenna.
It would be too long to follow the whole story of that fierce and desperate
conflict, where both sides fought with the utmost skill and valour. The
Spaniards certainly carried out their usual tactics of constantly taking
aim at the horses of the French riders, for they have a proverb which says:
"When the horse is dead the man-at-arms is lost." Their war-cry was:
"Spain! Spain! St. Iago!" to which the other side replied by another
furious onslaught to the shouts of "France! France!" And wherever the Good
Knight passed, "Bayard! Bayard!" was the clarion note which cheered on his
company, ever in the forefront of battle. The French artillery was used
with great success, and as for the young general, Gaston de Foix, he led
forward his men again and again with splendid success. It was late in the
day and already the tide of victory was on the side of the French, when the
Good Knight, who was riding in pursuit of the flying enemy, said to the
Duke: "Praise be to God, you have won the battle, my lord, and the world
will ring with your fame. I pray you to remain here by the bridge and rally
your men-at-arms to keep them from pillaging the camp. But do not leave, I
entreat, till we return." It would have been well, indeed, if he had
remembered this, but some time later, in the tumult and confusion, he saw
some Gascons being driven across the canal by a few Spanish fugitives, and
with his usual impetuous chivalry, Gaston threw himself to their rescue,
without waiting to see who followed him.
He found himself hemmed in between the canal and a deep ditch, attacked by
desperate men with pikes; his horse was killed and he fought on foot with
only his sword. His companions, who had quickly seen his danger, were
trampled down or thrust into the water, and in vain his cousin, de Lautrec,
shouted to the Spaniards, "Do not kill him; he is our general, the brother
of your Queen" (Germaine de Foix). The gallant young Duke fell covered with
wounds, and de Lautrec was left for dead, before their assailants turned
and continued their flight to Ravenna. It so chanced that some distance
farther the Good Knight met them, and would have attacked them, but they
pleaded humbly for their lives, which could make no difference now the
battle was won. Bayard let them go, little knowing that they had done to
death his dear lord and beloved friend, Gaston de Foix.
The Good Knight wrote to his uncle on April 14, 1512:
"Sir, if our King has gained the battle I vow to you that we poor gentlemen
have lost it; for while we were away in pursuit of the enemy ... my lord
of Nemours ... was killed and never was there such grief and lamentation
as overwhelms our camp, for we seem to have lost everything. If our dear
lord had lived to his full age (he was but twenty-four) he would have
surpassed all other princes, and his memory would have endured so long as
the world shall last.... Sir, yesterday morning the body of my lord
(Gaston de Foix, Duc de Nemours) was borne to Milan with the greatest
honour we could devise, with two hundred men-at-arms, the many banners
taken in this battle carried trailing on the ground before his body, with
his own standards triumphantly floating behind him.... We have lost many
other great captains, and amongst them my friend Jacob of the German
foot-soldiers ... and I assure you that for a hundred years the kingdom of
France will not recover from our loss....--Your humble servitor, BAYARD."
The brilliant victory won outside the walls of Ravenna was the last
successful engagement of the French army which, threatened on every side,
was soon "to melt away like mist flying before the wind." The day after the
battle Ravenna was pillaged by the French adventurers and "landsknechte"
with the usual unfortunate result, that they forsook their masters and
returned home with their booty.
This gallant young prince was indeed a terrible loss both to his friends
and to his country. His uncle, Louis XII., is said to have exclaimed, on
hearing of the death of the Duke of Nemours: "Would to God that I had lost
Italy, and that Gaston and the others who fell at Ravenna were still
alive!"
It was difficult to fill his place, but Chabannes la Palisse was chosen to
the command of the army, as Lautrec had been grievously wounded and was now
at Ferrara, where he ultimately recovered.
The French army was already weary and dispirited when the troops of the
Pope and his allies bore down upon them in great numbers; and after several
attempts at resistance they were compelled to retire to Pavia, which they
hoped to defend. However, they had barely time to fortify the various gates
before the enemy was upon them, two days later. By the advice of Bayard, a
bridge of boats was made across the river as a way of retreat, for the
stone bridge was sure to be guarded by the enemy, and, as we shall see,
this proved to be of immense value. By some means, the Swiss managed to
enter the town by the citadel and advanced to the market-place, where, on
the alarm being sounded, they were met by the foot-soldiers and some
men-at-arms, amongst whom were the Captain Louis d'Ars, who was Governor,
La Palisse, and the lord of Imbercourt. But, above all, the Good Knight did
incredible things, for with about twenty or thirty men-at-arms he held all
the Swiss at bay for about two hours in a narrow passage, fighting the
whole time with such desperate energy that he had two horses killed under
him.
It was now that the bridge of boats came into use, and the artillery was
first preparing to cross when Captain Pierre du Pont, Bayard's nephew, who
was keeping a watch on the enemy, came to tell the company fighting in the
market-place: "Gentlemen, retire at once; for above our bridge a number of
Swiss are arriving in little boats, ten at a time, and when they have
enough men they will enclose us in this city and we shall all be cut to
pieces."
He was so wise and valiant a leader that his words were obeyed, and the
French retreated, always fighting, as far as their bridge, hotly pursued,
so that there was heavy skirmishing. However, the horsemen passed over
safely, while about three hundred foot-soldiers remained behind to guard
the entrance of the bridge. But a great misfortune happened, for when the
French had just succeeded in taking across the last piece of artillery, a
long "culverin"[1] (cannon), named _Madame de Forli_,[2] which had been
re-taken from the Spaniards at Ravenna, was so heavy that it sank the first
boat, and the poor soldiers, seeing they were lost, escaped as best they
could, but many were killed and others drowned.
[Footnote 1: Cannon of 5-1/2 inches bore; weight of the shot 17-1/2 lbs.]
[Footnote 2: Named after the famous Catarina Sforza, the warlike Lady of
Forli.]
When the French had crossed the bridge they destroyed it, although they
were no longer pursued, but a great misfortune befell Bayard. He was, as
usual, in the place of danger, protecting the retreat of his company, when
he was wounded by the shot from the town of a small cannon called a
"fowler." It struck him between the shoulder and the neck with such force
that all the flesh was torn off to the bone, and those who saw the shot
thought he was killed. But although he was in agony and knew that he was
seriously wounded, he said to his companions: "Gentlemen, it is nothing."
They tried to staunch the wound with moss from the trees, and some of his
soldiers tore up their shirts for bandages, as there was no surgeon at
hand. It was in this unfortunate condition that the Good Knight accompanied
the French army on that sad retreat from place to place, until at last they
reached Piedmont and crossed the Alps.
Less than three months after the victory of Ravenna the triumphant allies
had re-taken Bologna, Parma, and Piacenza without a blow; had encouraged
Genoa to assert her independence; and Italy, with the exception of a few
citadels, had escaped from French rule.
Bayard, who suffered much from his wound, was carried to Grenoble, where
his good uncle the Bishop, who had first started him in his career of arms,
received him with the greatest affection. He was warmly welcomed and made
much of in his native land, and possibly the excitement, combined with his
serious wound, was too much for him, as he fell ill with fever and for more
than a fortnight his life was despaired of.
Prayers and supplications were made for him throughout the whole country,
especially in all the churches of Grenoble itself, and, as the chronicler
remarks, "there must have been some good person whose prayers were heard,"
for the Good Knight gradually grew better, and before many weeks he was as
well and as gay as ever. Never was any one more feasted and entertained
than he was during the three months when he remained with his uncle, the
Bishop of Grenoble. A very interesting letter has been preserved which this
good prelate wrote to the Queen of France at this time. He thanks her for
her great kindness in sending her doctor, Maitre Pierre, whose skill has
had so much effect in curing his nephew. He also informs Her Majesty that
he has spoken to Bayard about the marriage she suggests for him, but with
all due gratitude he does not find himself in a position to marry, and has
never given the subject a thought....
This is exactly what we might have expected from the good Anne of Brittany.
She had such a passion for match-making that she had obtained from the Pope
a "portable" altar, which always travelled with her, that she might have a
marriage solemnised at any time.
[Illustration: Bayard presented to the King of England.]
[Illustration: HENRY _the_ EIGHTH KING OF ENGLAND
_from the portrait by Hans Holbein_.]