for the stern services of war. He failed in nothing that he conceived it
his duty to perform, and he neglected nothing that he felt would tend
to his own development, for he bore always in his heart the admonition
of the king he so reverenced: "Piquet, my friend, may God develop in
thee that fearless manhood which thy noble youth so graciously
promises."
At this time Italy was not under one government, but was separated into
six great divisions--the Duchy of Milan, the Kingdom of Naples, the
Kingdom of Piedmont, the Republics of Venice and Florence, and the Papal
States. There were also several petty states which were always more or
less dependent on some one of the greater powers. Unfortunately for
themselves, there was little sympathy or unity among the Italian States;
and the nations around were constantly stirring up strife between them,
or invading the peninsula for the sake of conquest. So it was that for a
long time Italy was the field on which the contests of Europe were
waged.
It was during this period--when the French, the Spanish, the Germans,
and the Italian States were variously pitted against one another, and
variously allied--that Bayard made his name forever an emblem of
chivalry. In those days "king" stood for "country" in the mind of the
loyal knight; and in following his king on whatever fantastic campaign,
Bayard believed that he was only performing his sacred duty to his
beloved France.
He served successively under three sovereigns--Charles VIII., Louis
XII., and Francis I.,--and distinguished himself in Italy, Spain, and
France, holding his own against Italian, Spaniard, German, and Briton
alike.
"I hope one day to be worthy the name of soldier," was the chevalier's
modest, yet truly exalted, ambition; and he proved unquestionably his
right to the title in his very first campaign. Bayard's first service
was with Charles VIII., when that king invaded Italy and conquered the
Kingdom of Naples.
The young chevalier, though then only eighteen years of age, and slender
and boyish in appearance, soon became the admiration of even old and
experienced warriors. Wherever there was hottest fighting--wherever
there was greatest danger--there was this black-eyed, fair-haired youth.
And there was hardly an engagement with the enemy which was not
signalized by some brilliant feat of the young knight's.
After conquering the Kingdom of Naples and leaving there the larger part
of the French army to maintain his sovereignty, King Charles returned
to France at the head of only a small force. But his exodus from Italy
was not so easy as his invasion into that country had been. The Pope,
the Doge of Venice, the Duke of Milan, and other Italian princes, had
formed a league against the ambitious Charles, and had gathered a large
army in northern Italy to cut off his return to France.
As King Charles advanced to within a few miles of Fornovo, the allies
unexpectedly descended on him with a force six times as great as his
own, and a bloody battle ensued. The plan of the allies was to destroy
the French army and take King Charles prisoner. So anxious were they to
make the king their captive that they offered a prize of a hundred
thousand ducats to the man who would bring him, dead or alive, to their
camp.
But the annihilation of the French army and the capture of King Charles
were not such light tasks as the allies had expected. The little band
met their all but overwhelming onset with a stubborn resistance that was
wonderful to behold. By charge and counter-charge the field was
contested, and victory still hung in the balance when suddenly out of
the French ranks rode a fair-haired boy knight, calling on his company
to follow him. Instantly his men caught the infection of his wild
daring, and in the face of almost certain death they swept to the charge
with the dashing Bayard.
"A greyhound for attack, and a wild boar in defence," Bayard fell upon
the enemies of his king with such splendid courage that none whom he met
could withstand his prowess.
Two horses were killed under him, but he mounted a third, and, dashing
alone into the thickest of the fight, captured an ensign from fifty
men-at-arms.
Thanks to the valor of such knights as Bayard, the French gained a
signal victory, laying low in the dust full as many men as King Charles
had led to Fornovo.
After several more encounters with the allies, in which Bayard won added
laurels, the king led his much-diminished army back to France.
Shortly after this campaign Charles VIII. died, and was succeeded on the
throne by Louis XII.
The new king busied himself with the internal affairs of state; and
Bayard, whose business was that of a soldier merely, was for awhile left
free to do as he chose. He accordingly occupied the time in visiting
friends in Savoy. The good Duke of Savoy was now dead; but the duchess
received the chevalier at her court with her oldtime friendliness.
Here for a second time Bayard met the love of his boyhood. But alas for
him! she had become the wife of the Lord of Fluxas.
When the two met, the lady received Bayard with every sign of
friendship. She praised him greatly for the noble part he had borne in
the king's service--for all France had heard of the chevalier's great
deeds in Italy--and then they talked over their youthful love-affair.
In the course of his stay, the Lady Fluxas asked Bayard to give a
tournament, for she very much wished to see him engage in some of the
knightly exercises in which he had become distinguished.
The chevalier was delighted to comply with her request, and promised
that the tournament should be arranged to take place in a very short
while; then, kissing the hand of his fair sponsor, he asked for one of
her sleeves. When the lady gave him the favor he treasured it carefully,
intending that it should be the victor's prize in the coming joust.
The tournament was held in good time, some fifteen gallant gentlemen
taking part and acquitting themselves much to the satisfaction of the
lady for whose amusement the entertainment had been devised.
When the trial at arms was ended, the duchess bade the Lord of Fluxas
invite the combatants and the judges and a number of ladies to sup with
her. According to her wishes, the judges reserved their decision until
the guests were gathered about the table that evening.
As every one expected, the prize was awarded to Bayard. The chevalier
blushed and declined to take it, saying further that the lady who had
provided the sleeve should be the one to bestow it.
As the giver of the tournament, Bayard was, in a sense, the host of
those who accepted the challenge; and it was very like his extreme
courteousness to decline to carry off the prize from them, however much
he may have wished in his heart to possess this particular lady's favor.
Lady Fluxas, thus called upon to make the decision, paused a moment,
then said she would keep the sleeve herself "for the sake of the
victor." She then gave a beautiful ruby pendant to the Lord of
Mondragon, who, next to Bayard, had been the most successful in the
combat.
However much the chevalier's heart may have inclined him to linger near
the home of the lady he still loved, his stern sense of duty soon
summoned him away. News had come to King Louis that the people of Milan,
who owed fealty to the French king, had revolted, and made Ludovic
Sforza their duke.
On hearing this, the king at once despatched the Count of Ligny with a
large force to besiege the disloyal city. Bayard, as a member of Ligny's
company, went of course with his commander.
The French had been encamped before Milan for some time, when one day
Bayard learned from a spy that three hundred horse of the Milanese were
at the little town of Binasco; and, always on the lookout for a skirmish
with the enemy, he persuaded about fifty of his companions to join him
in a descent upon that town. They set off early the next morning, but
the Milanese learned of the intended surprise, and were ready for them.
With the cry, "France! France!" the chevalier and his companions flung
themselves upon the whole three hundred; but the Milanese were no
cowards, and for one hour they withstood even the firebrand impetuosity
of Bayard himself. They were not many who could stand so long before
Bayard. At length the knight, impatient at this stubborn resistance,
cried out to his fellows--
"What, my comrades! shall we let these few keep us fighting all day?
Courage! Let us multiply our strokes and give wings to their feet!"
At the sound of his deep voice the French rushed to the attack again,
and with such enthusiasm that the enemy wavered--fell back--then fled,
pell-mell, toward Milan. The victors followed in hot pursuit, with the
peerless knight far in the lead.
The fugitives reached Milan scarcely ahead of their pursuers, and
thundered in through the gate. One of the leaders of the French, seeing
the danger into which he and his companions were rushing, cried out just
in time,--
"Turn, men-at-arms, turn!"
The order was obeyed by all except Bayard, who had ears for nothing but
his own battle-cry, and eyes only for the enemy. Right into the heart
of the city, nay, up to the very steps of the duke's palace, he chased
the flying Milanese; then he suddenly found himself surrounded by an
angry populace, who, when they saw the white crosses of France upon him,
cried,--
"Seize him! Seize him!"
He was soon disarmed and taken prisoner by the commander he had just
pursued from Binasco. When Cazache--for such was the Milanese captain's
name--got his enemy thus in his power, he did not, as might be supposed,
wreak any petty vengeance on the head of the chevalier. He treated
Bayard as a soldier and a gentleman, and by so doing evinced a
chivalrous spirit close akin to the chevalier's own.
Ludovic, Duke of Milan, hearing the uproar before the palace, asked the
cause thereof, and was soon told that the Milanese at Binasco had been
defeated, and that a young chevalier had pursued Cazache and his company
to the very palace door.
"By my sword, but I'd like to see this daring Frenchman!" roared the
duke. "Captain, fetch the prisoner hither."
Cazache obeyed in fear and trembling for his captive. The captain--a
generous-hearted fellow--had conceived a deep admiration for Bayard, and
he feared for the chevalier's head; for Duke Ludovic was of a most
uncertain temperament.
When, however, he ushered the knight before the duke, Cazache realized
that his fears were groundless. Instead of flying into a fury, as he
too often did, Ludovic surveyed the handsome figure of the captive and
said, not unkindly,
"My brave young gentleman, come hither and tell me what brought thee to
Milan."
Bayard was used to surprises, and answered frankly--
"I came in the footsteps of some of thy men for a little adventure. I
did not know that I was alone, for I thought my comrades were close
behind me. They are wiser in the ways of war than I, or they too would
have been captured. In the mean time, I thank God that I have fallen
into such good hands; and I do assure thee that if anything could make
captivity pleasant to me, it would be such treatment as I have received
from this good captain."
The duke smiled kindly, and then asked him the number in the French
army.
"Sir," replied the knight, truthfully, "there are not more than fourteen
or fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and from sixteen to eighteen thousand
foot-soldiers; but they are all picked men, and are resolved to win back
the Duchy of Milan to the king, their master. As for thee, sir, let me
warn thee that thou wilt be safer in Germany than in this city."
Instead of being incensed by Bayard's frankness, Ludovic answered him in
the same friendly strain, and assured him that there was nothing he so
much desired as an encounter between his own and the king's troops.
Bayard replied that such an event would be a great pleasure to himself
also, provided he were not in prison.
"Do not let that trouble thee," replied the duke, "for I intend to set
thee free. If there is anything else thou desirest of me, thou hast only
to ask it."
This unexpected kindness on the part of Ludovic took the knight
completely by surprise. Up to that time he had stood before his enemy
proud and erect; but when Ludovic announced his generous intention
toward him, the young knight sank on his knee to thank him.
"Sir," said he, "the greatest favor thou canst grant me is to restore my
arms and my horse, and allow me a guide to the French garrison." He
paused a moment and then added earnestly, "Believe me, sir, I shall
always be ready to serve thee, if I can do so in honor to my king and to
my country." And after again thanking the duke for his generosity, the
young knight rode away with the promised guide.
When Bayard arrived at the French camp, the Count of Ligny was
astonished and overjoyed to see him, for all had heard of Bayard's
solitary descent on Milan and his consequent capture.
"What, Piquet!" exclaimed the count, "thou out of prison! How didst thou
pay thy ransom? I was about to send a herald to pay it, and bring thee
back."
"Sir," replied the knight, "I thank thee most sincerely, but Ludovic
Sforza hath spared thee the trouble, and in doing so, he hath proved
himself a rival in courtesy and generosity even to thyself--he hath made
me a present of my freedom, and provided me with a guide hither."
Milan afterwards fell into the hands of the king, but Bayard was not
able to return the great kindness Ludovic had shown to him.
After conquering Milan, King Louis turned his attention to the Kingdom
of Naples, which had, during the last days of Charles VIII., thrown off
the yoke of France and raised a Spanish prince to the throne.
Bayard counted it great good fortune to be allowed to go on the
expedition sent by the king into Naples; and there he performed such
wonderful feats of arms that the Spanish allies of the Neapolitans
declared him to be a devil instead of a man. It was, indeed, through no
fault of Bayard's that the French ultimately lost Naples.
The fame of Bayard's exploits spread. The Pope, a bitter enemy to the
King of France, sent for the chevalier, and tried to persuade him to
renounce the service of King Louis for that of the States of the Church.
In order to make his proposition exceedingly tempting, the Pontiff
offered to load the knight with riches and honors, and make him
Captain-General of the Church. To all this Bayard gave the simple,
earnest answer,--
"I have but one master in heaven,--God,--and one upon earth,--the King
of France."
Once, while the good Duke of Nemours commanded the French army in Italy,
he and several of his officers had occasion to spend a few days in the
little town of Carpi. While there, they were hospitably entertained by
the Count of Carpi, who provided many amusements for them. For their
diversion, the count one day caused an astrologer--a little withered
black man--to appear at court, and read the future for the distinguished
guests.
The astrologer came, and astonished all by the accuracy with which he
related past events in their lives. Then he told them that on the next
Good Friday or Easter Day the French and Spanish armies would come
together in a battle which would be one of the bloodiest ever fought. He
said that the victory would remain with the French, but that it would be
bought with the best blood of France. And he said to Bayard, privately,
"Your prince"--meaning the Duke of Nemours--"seems very dear to you; be
near him on the day of battle. I see that he is threatened with a sad
fate."
Bayard had little faith in the seer's powers, and laughed when it came
his turn to question the mystic; however, it was amusement for the
company.
"My master," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "shall I ever be a man
of consequence? And shall I become rich?"
The astrologer looked at him sharply and answered,
"Thou wilt be richer in noble qualities than ever French gentleman was
before thee, but thou wilt have few of fortune's goods. Thou wilt serve
yet another king of France, who will love and esteem thee much; but the
envy of those about him will prevent his bestowing on thee the wealth
and honors thou wilt so richly deserve."
"But," asked Bayard, "shall I escape from this bloody battle thou hast
predicted?"
"Yes," answered the seer; "but twelve years hence thou wilt die in
battle of an arquebuse-shot,--in no other way, for thy soldiers do so
adore thee that they would die to the last man to save thee."
It chanced that in the fortunes of war the French once captured and held
for a long time the beautiful Italian town of Brescia. This city was in
time recaptured by the Venetians, to whom it had first belonged, and
again possessed by the French,--albeit, at the cost of many valuable
lives.
At this retaking of Brescia by the French, Bayard again distinguished
himself. The first skirmish before the town was won by the chevalier,
who was so eager to attack that he went into battle in his
night-clothes.
When the time came for a general assault, the question arose as to whom
should put himself in front, at the mercy of the enemy's arquebuses.
"I will," responded Bayard to the Duke of Nemours's question; "and I
promise thee that the company I command will do good service to the
king, our master."
This was no idle boast, for Bayard's company was composed of picked
men, the greater number of whom had been commanders themselves, but who
preferred the honor of serving under the noted chevalier to leading
companies of their own.
So it was arranged that the chevalier and his company should open battle
by storming the first fort that protected Brescia. A better selection
could not have been made, for the very name of Bayard had become a
terror to the enemies of France.
When the Venetian commander saw who was leading the assault, he cried
out to encourage his men,--
"Hold fast, comrades! If this _Bayard_ but be defeated, all the rest
will be easy."
But Bayard was not defeated. The splendid charge of his company was met
with a blinding storm of shot from the Venetian guns, but not a man gave
back. Right up to the cannon they charged, shouting in the face of the
fire--"France! France!"--but the cry was changed to "_Bayard_!
_Bayard!_" as the chevalier leaped the ramparts, crying,
"Follow me!"
And they did follow.
Only for an instant Bayard's tall form was seen in the thick of his
enemies, his black eyes blazing with the fire of battle. The next moment
he fell, face downward, in the struggling mass, with a Venetian pike
thrust through his thigh.
When word was carried to the Duke of Nemours that Bayard had fallen, he
exclaimed,--
"Let us go, my friends and comrades, and avenge the death of the most
accomplished knight that ever lived." And they swept forward with the
brave duke, completing the victory that Bayard had so well begun. The
Venetian loss in this battle exceeded twenty thousand, while the French
loss was less than fifty men.
When the French occupied the town, they gave themselves over to all
kinds of excesses, perpetrating atrocious cruelties on defenceless women
and children, and pillaging convents and churches for their riches.
The soldiers in those days were, in the main, rough and brutal men; but
there were always among them many knightly gentlemen, who never failed
to use their utmost power to protect the defenceless. Such a gentleman
was Bayard, and he was never known to allow cruelties where it was in
his power to prevent them. But--alas for the wretched city--the knight
without reproach was now helpless!
Having been mortally wounded, as all supposed, the chevalier was carried
by two of his men to a large mansion within the town, that he might
receive needed attention.
The Brescian citizen who owned the house had fled upon the entry of the
French, leaving his wife and two beautiful daughters alone and
unprotected.
Now when Bayard's men brought their wounded captain to the house, the
lady herself opened the gate, and assisted the men in making the knight
comfortable. Bayard's first order to the two soldiers was that they
station themselves at the gate, and, on pain of death, admit no one save
his own men.
"I am sure," he said, "that when they know I am lodged here, they will
not force a passage."
When he had despatched his soldiers, the lady fell upon her knees at
Bayard's feet and said--
"Noble lord, this house and all that it contains is thine by the laws of
war; but I beseech thee, by the Holy Mother, to preserve the safety of
myself and my daughters."
"Madam," answered the almost fainting chevalier, "I may not recover from
the wound I have received, but as long as I live neither thou nor thy
daughters shall sustain more injury than myself. I assure thee that no
one shall enter the house contrary to thy wish; and for myself, I
promise thee all respect and friendship. But fetch me help, I pray thee,
and that quickly!"
The lady was much relieved by the knight's assuring words, and went
herself, attended by one of his soldiers, and fetched a surgeon to him.
When the Duke of Nemours learned where Bayard had been carried, and that
he still lived, he sent his own surgeon to attend him.
As soon as Bayard was sufficiently recovered to give the orders, he
caused the husband of his hostess to be sought out and conducted back in
safety to his home and family.
For six weeks the knight lay ill, and during that time he was the
recipient of many kindnesses from the members of the household. The
ladies were especially attentive, and spent many hours by his bedside,
ministering to his needs or amusing him. These days of convalescence
were pleasant indeed to the great-hearted man who had known so little of
the comforts of home and the tender ministrations of women. But he grew
impatient of his captivity when he heard that there was probability of
a fight between the French and a large army of Spanish then in northern
Italy.
"Meseems that I am well," he said to his surgeon; "and I assure thee
that biding here will harm me more than mend me, for I do most
grievously fret."
The surgeon knew him too well to doubt his word, so he taught Bayard's
valet how to dress the wound, which was now almost healed, and the
knight made ready to rejoin his company.
Now when the lady and her husband heard of Bayard's approaching
departure they were much concerned lest the knight should demand at
least ten thousand ducats as a ransom for their property. The two
discussed their dilemma earnestly, and decided that the lady should go
to Bayard with twenty-five hundred ducats and beg him to be satisfied
with this sum. Accordingly, she took the gold and sought the knight's
presence.
"My lord," she said, "myself and family shall always thank God that it
pleased Him, in the midst of the horrors of war, to lead such a noble
knight to our house for our protection. We shall ever remember that it
is to thee we owe our all. Since thou camest among us, we have received
naught but kindness at thy hands. We are thy prisoners; the house, with
its contents, is thine by right of conquest, but thou hast ever been so
graciously generous that I have come to beseech thee to have pity on us
and be content with this little gift that I have the honor to offer
thee."
She opened her coffer and showed its contents to Bayard, who smiled as
he asked,--
"How much is it, madam?"
The lady, not knowing how little he valued riches and fearing he thought
the gift too small, said hastily--
"My lord, there are only twenty-five hundred ducats; but we will strive
to make up the sum that thou desirest, if thou wilt mention it."
"Thou didst not understand me, lady," replied the knight. "Thou hast
already paid me many times over, in kindnesses such as money cannot
purchase. Keep thy gold; and remember that I am forever thy debtor, thy
champion, and thy friend."
The lady, much pleased and astonished at this unexpected reply, begged
him again to accept her gift.
"I shall be, indeed, a most unhappy woman," she declared, "if thou
refuse it."
Bayard was too gallant to withstand a woman's pleadings, so he said--
"Since thou desirest it so much, lady, I yield." Then he requested her
to send her daughters in.
The lady went to call the two damsels; and while she was gone, Bayard
divided the money into three lots,--two of one thousand ducats each and
one of five hundred.