Two days later Walter started with Sir Walter Manny, with a large number
of knights, squires, men-at-arms, and archers, for the Orwell. Walter
was mounted, as were the other squires and men-at-arms, and indeed
many of the archers. Ralph Smith, in the attire of a man-at-arms, rode
behind.
Walter was in the highest spirits. A brilliant career was open to him
under the most favourable circumstances; he had already distinguished
himself, and had gained the attention of the highest personages in the
realm, his immediate lord was one of the bravest and most chivalrous
knights in Europe, and he had to sustain and encourage him the hopes
that Lady Vernon had given him, of regaining some day the patrimony of
his father. It was a satisfaction to him that he was as well born as
those who surrounded him, and his purse was well lined as any in the
company. Although he had spent the largess which had been bestowed upon
him at the tournament in procuring clothes fitted for his rank, he was
yet abundantly supplied with money, for both Geoffrey Ward and Giles
Fletcher, having no children of their own and being both well-to-do men,
had insisted upon his accepting a sum which would enable him to make a
good appearance with the best.
A large number of squires followed the banner of Sir Walter Manny. The
records of the time show that the barons were generally accompanied in
the field by almost as many squires as men-at-arms. The former were men
of good family, sons of knights and nobles, aspirants for the honour of
knighthood, and sons of the smaller gentry. Many were there from pure
love of a life of excitement and adventure, others in fulfilment of the
feudal tenure by which all land was then held, each noble and landowner
being obliged to furnish so many knights, squires, men-at-arms, and
archers, in accordance with the size of his holding. The squires fought
in the field in the front rank of the men-at-arms, save those who, like
Walter, were attached to the person of their leader, and who in the
field fought behind him or bore his orders to the companies under his
banner.
In the field all drew pay, and it may be interesting in the present
day to know what were the rates for which our forefathers risked their
lives. They were as follows: each horse archer received 6 deniers, each
squire 12 deniers or 1 sol, each knight 2 sols, each knight banneret 4
sols. 20 sols went to the pound, and although the exact value of money
in those days relative to that which it bears at the present time is
doubtful, it may be placed at twelve times the present value. Therefore
each horse archer received an equivalent to 6s. a day, each squire 12s.,
each knight 24s., and each knight banneret 48s. per day.
Upon their arrival at the Orwell, where many troops from other parts
had been gathered, the expedition at once embarked on board the numerous
ships which had been collected. As that in which Sir Walter sailed also
carried several of his knights there was not room for all his young
esquires, and Walter and the three other juniors were told off into
another ship. She was a smaller vessel than most of those which composed
the expedition, and only carried twelve men-at-arms and as many archers,
together with the four young squires, and a knight, Sir John Powis, who
was in command of the whole.
“Your craft is but a small one,” the knight said to the captain.
“She is small, but she is fast,” the latter answered. “She would sail
round and round the best part of the fleet. I had her built according to
my own fancy. Small though she be, I warrant you she will be one of the
first to arrive at Hennebon, and the sooner the better say I, since I am
but paid by the trip, and would fain be back again at my regular work.
It pays better carrying merchants' goods between London and Holland than
taking his majesty's troops over to France.”
“Your speed will not be of much avail,” Sir John Powis said, “seeing
that the fleet will keep together.”
“Yes, I know that is the order,” the captain answered; “but accidents
happen sometimes, you know”--and his eye twinkled. “Vessels get
separated from fleets. If they happen to be slow ones so much the worse
for those on board; if they happen to be fast ones so much the better,
seeing that those they carry will arrive long before their comrades, and
may be enabled to gain credit and renown while the others are whistling
for a wind in mid-ocean. However, we shall see.”
The next morning the fleet sailed from the Orwell. It contained 620
men-at-arms, among whom were many of the noblest and bravest of the
country, and 6000 picked archers in the pay of the king. The whole were
commanded by Sir Walter. The scene was a very gay one. The banners of
the nobles and knights floated from the lofty poops, and the sun shone
on bright armour and steel weapons. Walter, who had never seen the
sea before, was delighted. The wind was fair, and the vessels glided
smoothly along over the sea. At evening the knight and his four young
companions gathered in the little cabin, for it was in the first week in
March, and the night was cold.
“Will you please tell me, Sir John,” Walter said to the knight, “the
merits of this quarrel in which we are going to fight? I know that we
are going in aid of the Countess of Montford; but why she is in a sore
strait I know not.”
“The matter is a mixed one, Walter, and it requires a herald to tell you
all the subtleties of it. John III, Duke of Brittany, was present with
his liege lord, Phillip of Valois, in the last war with England, on the
border of the low country. When the English retired from before Tournay
Phillip dismissed his nobles. The Duke of Burgundy was taken ill, and
died at Caen, in Normandy, on the 30th of April, 1341. Arthur II, his
father, had been twice married. By his first wife he had three sons,
John, Guy, and Peter. John and Peter left no issue. Guy, who is also
dead, left a daughter, Joan. By his second wife, Jolande de Dieux, Duke
Arthur had one son, John, Count of Montford. Thus it happened, that
when Duke John died, his half-brother, the Count of Montford, and
Joan, daughter of his second brother Guy, were all that survived of
the family. These were the rival claimants for the vacant dukedom. In
England we have but one law of succession, which rules through the whole
land. In France it is different. There the law of succession depends
entirely upon the custom of the county, dukedom, or lordship, which is
further affected both by the form of grant by which the territory was
conveyed to its first feudal possessors and by the mode in which the
province had been acquired by the kings of France. This is important,
as upon these circumstances alone it depended whether the son or the
granddaughter of Arthur II should inherit the dukedom.
“Joan claimed the duchy as the daughter of the elder brother. The Salic
law of France, which barred females from the right of succession, and in
virtue of which Philip of Valois succeeded to the throne instead of King
Edward, certainly did not obtain in Brittany. Duke John regarded Joan as
his heiress, and married her to Charles of Blois, nephew of the King of
France, thus strengthening her in her position; and he also induced
the provincial parliament of Brittany to acknowledge her husband as his
successor in the dukedom. Altogether it would seem that right is upon
Joan's side; but, on the other hand, the Count of Montford is the son
of Jolande, a great heiress in Brittany. He is an active and energetic
noble. The Bretons love not too close a connection with France, and
assuredly prefer to be ruled by a duke whom they regard as one of
themselves rather than by Charles of Blois, nephew of the French
king. Directly Duke John was dead the Count of Montford claimed the
inheritance. Assuming the title of duke he rode to Nantes, where the
citizens did him homage, and then proceeded to Limoges with a large
train of men-at-arms, and there took possession of the immense treasures
which the late duke had accumulated in the course of a long and tranquil
reign. With these sinews of war at his command he turned to Nantes,
where he had left his wife the countess, who was a sister of the Count
of Flanders. He immediately invited the nobility of Brittany to a grand
banquet, but only one knight of any renown presented himself at the
feast, the rest all holding aloof. With the wealth of which he had
possessed himself he levied large forces and took the field. He first
marched against Brest, where the garrison, commanded by Walter de
Clisson, refused to acknowledge him. After three days' hard fighting the
place was taken. Rennes was next besieged, and presently surrendered.
Other towns fell into his hands, and so far as Brittany was concerned
all opposition, except in one or two fortresses, ceased. In the
meanwhile Charles of Blois sought assistance from his uncle the King
of France; the Count de Montford, therefore, crossed to England and
besought the aid of King Edward, and did homage to him as King of
France. Edward, on his part, promised to assist him. The fact that
Phillip was sure to espouse the opposite side was in itself sufficient
to decide him; besides which, the dukes of Brittany have always been in
a special way connected with England and bear the English title of Earls
of Richmond.
“Believing that his journey, which had been a secret one, was unknown to
the King of France, De Montford went boldly to Paris, where he had been
summoned by the king to an assembly of peers called to decide upon the
succession. He found, however, that Phillip had already obtained news
of his journey to England. His manner convinced De Montford that it was
unsafe to remain in Paris, and he secretly made his escape. Fifteen days
afterwards the peers gave judgment in favour of Charles of Blois. The
Dukes of Normandy, Burgundy, and Bourbon, the Counts of Alencon, Eu, and
Guisnes, and many other French nobles, prepared to lead an army into
the field to support Charles, and the king added a body of 3000 Genoese
mercenaries in his pay.
“Knowing the storm that was preparing to break upon him, De Montford put
every town and castle in a state of defence. He himself, confiding in
the affection of the inhabitants of Nantes, remained in that city, while
his wife repaired to Rennes.
“The Duke of Normandy advanced from Angiers with an army of 5000
men-at-arms and a numerous infantry, and after capturing the castle of
Chantoceaux marched to Nantes and laid siege to the city. A sortie was
made by the besieged, led by Henry de Leon, but, being attacked by the
whole of the French army, they were driven back into the town, a great
many of the citizens being killed. A warm altercation took place between
Henry de Leon and De Montford, who attributed to him the evil result
of the sortie. The result was that a large number of the citizens whose
friends had been captured by the French conspired to deliver up the
place to Charles of Blois, and Henry de Leon also entered into private
negotiations with the Duke of Normandy. De Montford, finding that he
could rely neither upon the citizens nor the soldiers, surrendered to
the duke on condition that his life was spared. He was sent to Paris,
where he still remains a prisoner. Winter was coming on, and after
putting Nantes in a fresh state of defence and leaving Charles of Blois
there, the Duke of Normandy dismissed his forces, engaging them to
reassemble in the spring. Had he pushed on at once he would have
experienced no resistance, so great was the panic which the surrender
of Nantes and the capture of De Montford had caused among the latter's
partisans.
“In Rennes, especially, the deepest despondency was felt. The countess,
however, showed the greatest courage and firmness. Showing herself,
with her infant in her arms, she appealed to the citizens, and by her
courageous bearing inspired them with new hopes. Having restored
heart at Rennes she traveled from garrison to garrison throughout the
province, and filled all with vigour and resolution. Feeling, however,
the hopelessness of her struggle against all France, she despatched Sir
Almeric de Clisson, who had lately joined her party, to England, to ask
the aid which the king had promised. He arrived a month since, and, as
you see, our brave king has not been long in despatching us to her aid;
and now, youngsters, to bed, for methinks that the sea is rougher than
it was and that the wind is getting up.”
“Aye, that is it,” the captain, who heard the knight's closing words,
exclaimed. “We are in for a storm, and a heavy one, or my name is not
Timothy Martin, and though with plenty of sea-room the Kitty makes not
much ado about a storm more or less, it's a very different thing in the
middle of a fleet of lubberly craft, which may run one down at any time.
I shall edge out of them as soon as I can, you may be sure.”
Before morning a serious gale was blowing, and for the next three or
four days Walter and his companions knew nothing of what was going on.
Then the storm abated, and they staggered out from their cabin. The sea
was still high, but the sun shone brightly overhead. In front of them
the land was visible. They looked round, but to their astonishment not a
sail was in sight.
“Why, where is the fleet?” Walter exclaimed in astonishment.
“Snug in the Thames, I reckon,” the captain said. “Soon after the storm
came on one of the sailors pretended he saw the lights of recall on the
admiral's ship; but I was too busy to look that way, I had enough to do
to look after the safety of the ship. Anyhow, I saw no more of them.”
“And what land is that ahead?” Walter asked.
“That is Brittany, young sir, and before nightfall we shall be in the
port of Hennebon; as to the others, it may be days and it may be weeks
before they arrive.”
The lads were not sorry at the chance which had taken them to their
destination before their companions and had given them a chance of
distinguishing themselves. Late in the afternoon the ship dropped anchor
off the castle of Hennebon, and Sir John Powis and his following were
conveyed in the ship's boats to shore. The countess received them most
graciously, and was delighted at the news that so strong a force was on
its way to her aid.
“In the absence of Sir Walter Manny, madam, I place myself and my men at
your orders. Our horses will be landed the first thing in the morning,
and we will then ride whithersoever you may bid us.”
“Thanks, Sir John,” the countess replied. “In that case I would that
you ride by Rennes, towards which the army of the Duke of Normandy is
already advancing. The garrison there is commanded by Sir William of
Caddoudal, a good and valiant knight.”
The horses were landed on the following morning, and accompanied by
the four young squires and the men-at-arms, and followed by the twenty
archers on foot, Sir John Powis set out for Rennes. They arrived there,
but just in time, for the assailants were closing round the city. They
were received with the greatest cordiality by the governor, who assigned
apartments to Sir John and the squires, and lodged the men-at-arms and
archers near them.
In a day or two the whole of the French army came up, and the siege
commenced. Sir John Powis, at his own request, was posted with his men
for the defence of a portion of the wall which was especially open to
the assaults of the enemy. These soon commenced in earnest, and the
Genoese and Spanish mercenaries endeavoured to carry the place by
assault. Sometimes one point would be attacked, at others points far
distant. Covered by the fire of the French crossbowmen, the Spaniards
and Germans came on to the assault, carrying ladders, with which they
strove to climb the walls, but the defenders plied them so vigorously
with quarrels from their cross-bows and flights of arrows that they
frequently desisted before reaching the walls. When they pushed on, and
strove to ascend, their luck was no better. Great stones were hurled
down, and boiling oil poured upon them. The ladders were flung back, and
many crushed by the fall, and in none of the assaults did they gain any
footing in the town. Machines were used, but these were not sufficiently
powerful to batter down the walls, and at the end of April the city was
as far from being captured as it was on the day of the commencement of
the siege.
Walter bore his full share in the fighting, but he had no opportunity
of especially distinguishing himself, although Sir John several times
commended him for his coolness when the bolts of the crossbow-men and
the stones from the machines were flying most thickly. But although as
yet uninjured by the enemy's attacks, the prospect of the city holding
out was not bright. The burghers, who had at first fought valiantly,
were soon wearied of the strife, and of the hardships it entailed upon
them. The siege had continued but a short time when they began to murmur
loudly. The force under the command of the governor was but a small
one, and it would have been impossible for him to resist the will of
the whole population. For a time his exhortations and entreaties were
attended with success, and the burghers returned to their positions on
the walls; but each time the difficulty became greater, and it was
clear to Caddoudal and Sir John Powis that ere long the citizens would
surrender the place in spite of them. The English knight was furious at
the cowardliness of the citizens, and proposed to the governor to summon
twenty of the leading burghers, and to hang them as a lesson to the
others; but the governor shook his head.
“I have but two hundred men on whom I can rely, including your
following, Sir John. We could not keep down the inhabitants for an hour;
and were we to try to do so, they would open the gates and let in the
French. No; I fear that we must await the end.”
The following morning Sir John was awoke with the news that in the night
Caddoudal had been seized and thrown into prison by the burghers, and
that a deputation of citizens had already gone out through the gate to
treat with the Duke of Normandy for the surrender of the city.
The English knight was furious, but with his little band he could do
nothing, especially as he found that a strong guard of burghers had been
placed at the door of the apartments occupied by him and the esquires,
and he was informed that he must consider himself a prisoner until the
conclusion of the negotiations.
Cowardly and faithless as the burghers of Rennes showed themselves to
be, they nevertheless stipulated with the Duke of Normandy, as one of
the conditions of the surrender, that Caddoudal, Sir John Powis, and the
troops under them should be permitted to pass through the French lines
and go whithersoever they would. These terms were accepted. At mid-day
the governor was released, and he with his men-at-arms and the band of
Englishmen filed out from the city gate, and took their way unmolested
through the lines of the French army to Hennebon.
They had been for a month in ignorance of all that had passed outside
the walls, and had from day to day been eagerly looking for the arrival
of Sir Walter Manny with his army to their relief. Once past the French
lines they inquired of the peasantry, and heard to their surprise that
the English fleet had not yet arrived.
“We were in luck indeed,” Walter said to his companions, “that Captain
Timothy Martin was in a hurry to get back to his tradings with the
Flemings. Had he not been so, we should all this time have been kicking
our heels and fretting on board a ship.”
On nearing Hennebon, Sir William Caddoudal, with Sir John Powis and the
squires, rode forward and met the countess. They were the first bearers
of the news of the surrender of Rennes, and the countess was filled with
consternation at the intelligence. However, after her first burst of
indignation and regret had passed, she put a brave face on it.
“They shall meet with another reception at Hennebon,” she said. “This
is but a small place, and my garrison here, and the soldiers you have
brought, will well-nigh outnumber the burghers; and we need have no fear
of such faintheartedness as that which has given Nantes and Rennes into
the hands of my enemy. The English aid cannot tarry long. Until it come
we can assuredly hold the place.”
All was now bustle in Hennebon. Sir John Powis took charge of a part of
the walls, and busied himself with his men in placing the machines in
position, and in preparing for defence. The countess, attired in armour,
rode through the streets haranguing the townspeople. She urged the men
to fight till the last, and bade the women and girls cut short their
dresses so that they could the better climb the steps to the top of the
walls, and that one and all should carry up stones, chalk, and baskets
of lime to be cast down upon the assailants. Animated by her words and
gestures, the townspeople set to work, and all vied with each other,
from the oldest to the youngest, in carrying up stores of missiles to
the walls. Never did Hennebon present such a scene of life and bustle.
It seemed like an ant-hill which a passer-by has disturbed.
Absorbed in their work, none had time to think of the dangers which
threatened them, and a stranger would rather have thought from their
cheerful and animated countenances that they were preparing for a
great fete than for a siege by an army to which the two chief towns in
Brittany had succumbed.
Ere long the French army was seen approaching. The soldiers, who had
been labouring with the rest, buckled on their armour. The citizens
gathered on the walls to hurl down the piles of stones which had been
collected, and all prepared for the assault.
“Sir John Powis,” the countess said, “I pray you to grant me one of your
esquires, who may attend me while I ride about, and may bear my messages
for me. He will not be idle, nor will he escape his share of the
dangers; for, believe me, I do not intend to hide myself while you and
your brave soldiers are fighting for me.
“Willingly, lady,” Sir John answered. “Here is Walter Somers, the son of
a good knight, and himself brave and prudent beyond his years; he will,
I am sure, gladly devote himself to your service.”
The French, encouraged by their successes, thought that it would be a
comparatively easy task to capture so small a place as Hennebon, and as
soon as their camp was pitched they moved forward to the attack.
“Come with me, Master Somers,” the countess said. “I will mount to one
of the watch-towers, where we may see all that passes.”
Walter followed her, and marvelled to see the lightness and agility with
which the heroic countess, although clad in armour, mounted the rickety
ladders to the summit of the watch-tower. The French bowmen opened
a heavy fire upon the walls, which was answered by the shafts of the
little party of English bowmen. These did much execution, for the
English archers shot far harder and straighter than those of France,
and it was only the best armour which could keep out their cloth-yard
shafts. So small a body, however, could not check the advance of so
large a force, and the French swarmed up to the very foot of the walls.
“Well done, my men!” the countess exclaimed, clapping her hands, as a
shower of heavy rocks fell among the mass of the assailants, who were
striving to plant their ladders, crushing many in their fall; “but you
are not looking, Master Somers. What is it that you see in yonder camp
to withdraw your attention from such a fight?”
“I am thinking, Countess, that the French have left their camp
altogether unguarded, and that if a body of horse could make a circuit
and fall upon it, the camp, with all its stores, might be destroyed
before they could get back to save it.”
“You are right, young sir,” the countess exclaimed, “and it shall be
done forthwith.”
So saying, she descended the stairs rapidly and mounted her horse,
which stood at the foot of the tower; then riding through the town, she
collected a party of about three hundred men, bidding all she met mount
their horses and join her at the gate on the opposite side to that on
which the assault was taking place. Such as had no horses she ordered
to take them from those in her own stables. Walter was mounted on one of
the best of the count's chargers. Immediately the force was collected,
the gate was opened and the countess rode forth at their head. Making a
considerable detour, the party rode without being observed into the rear
of the French camp. Here only a few servants and horse-boys were found,
these were at once killed or driven out; then all dismounting, set fire
to the tents and stores; and ere the French were aware of what was going
on, the whole of their camp was in flames. As soon as the conflagration
was perceived, the French commanders drew off their men from the attack,
and all ran at full speed towards the camp.
“We cannot regain the town,” the countess said; “we will ride to Auray
at full speed, and re-enter the castle when best we may.”
Don Louis of Spain, who with a considerable following was fighting
in the French ranks, hearing from the flying camp followers that the
countess herself was at the head of the party which had destroyed the
camp, instantly mounted, and with a large number of horsemen set off in
hot pursuit. A few of the countess's party who were badly mounted were
overtaken and slain, but the rest arrived safely at Auray, when the
gates were shut in the face of their pursuers.
The blow was a heavy one for the besiegers, but they at once proceeded
to build huts, showing that they had no intention of relinquishing the
siege. Spies were sent from Auray, and these reported that the new
camp was established on the site of the old one, and that the French
evidently intended to renew the attack upon the side on which they had
first commenced, leaving the other side almost unwatched.
Accordingly, on the fifth day after leaving the town, the countess
prepared to return. Except Walter, none were informed of her intention,
as she feared that news might be taken to the French camp by friends of
Charles of Blois; but as soon as it was nightfall, and the gates were
shut, the trumpet sounded to horse. In a few minutes the troop assembled
in the market-place, and the countess, accompanied by Walter, placing
herself at their head, rode out from the town. The strictest silence was
observed. On nearing the town all were directed to dismount, to tear
up the horse-cloths, and to muffle the feet of their horses. Then the
journey was resumed, and so careless was the watch kept by the French
that they passed through the sentries unobserved, and reached in
safety the gate from which they had issued. As they neared it they were
challenged from the walls, and a shout of joy was heard when Walter
replied that the countess herself was present. The gates were opened
and the party entered. The news of their return rapidly ran through the
town, and the inhabitants, hastily attiring themselves, ran into the
streets, filled with joy. Much depression had been felt during her
absence, and few had entertained hopes that she would be able to
re-enter the town. She had brought with her from Auray two hundred men,
in addition to the party that had sallied out.