King Edward found no difficulty in awakening the war spirit of England
anew, for the King of France, in an act of infamous treachery, in
despite 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. Phillip, 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
Phillip; and Godfrey, finding that the Duke of Brabant would be unable
to shield him from Phillip's vengeance, fled to the English court, and
did homage to Edward.
On the 24th of April, 1345, Edward determined no longer to allow Phillip
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 afterwards set
sail with a small army under the command of the Earl of Northampton for
Britanny, while the Earl of Derby took his departure with a larger force
for the defence 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 Phillip 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 1500
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 favour 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 honour 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 armour, 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 gaieties 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 favour, 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 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's chosen bodyguard 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 towards 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
defence 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 despatch 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 despatched 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 suite. 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
wise to bar the doors and windows, and to put yourself in a posture
of defence, 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 towards 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 defence.”
“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 defence, 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 storey 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,” Water 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 defence. 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 defence 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 storey 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 stair,” 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 paralysed 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
axe 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
forwards 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 shoulder 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 armour, 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 armour.
“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 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 armour 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 storey, 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 I will make a rope by
which we may slip down into the courtyard 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
honour 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 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 courtyard 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. Everyone 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.”