It was a most lovely day, in the very glow and meridian of an Italian
summer, when a small band of horsemen were seen winding a hill which
commanded one of the fairest landscapes of Tuscany. At their head was a
cavalier in a complete suit of chain armour, the links of which were
so fine, that they resembled a delicate and curious network, but so
strongly compacted, that they would have resisted spear or sword no
less effectually than the heaviest corselet, while adapting themselves
exactly and with ease to every movement of the light and graceful shape
of the rider. He wore a hat of dark green velvet shaded by long plumes,
while of two squires behind, the one bore his helmet and lance, the
other led a strong warhorse, completely cased in plates of mail, which
seemed, however, scarcely to encumber its proud and agile paces.
The countenance of the cavalier was comely, but strongly marked, and
darkened, by long exposure to the suns of many climes, to a deep bronze
hue: a few raven ringlets escaped from beneath his hat down a cheek
closely shaven. The expression of his features was grave and composed
even to sadness; nor could all the loveliness of the unrivalled scene
before him dispel the quiet and settled melancholy of his eyes. Besides
the squires, ten horsemen, armed cap-a-pie, attended the knight; and the
low and murmured conversation they carried on at intervals, as well as
their long fair hair, large stature, thick short beards, and the studied
and accurate equipment of their arms and steeds, bespoke them of a
hardier and more warlike race than the children of the south. The
cavalcade was closed with a man almost of gigantic height, bearing
a banner richly decorated, wherein was wrought a column, with the
inscription, “ALONE AMIDST RUINS.” Fair indeed was the prospect which
with every step expanded yet more widely its various beauty. Right
before stretched a long vale, now covered with green woodlands
glittering in the yellow sunlight, now opening into narrow plains
bordered by hillocks, from whose mosses of all hues grew fantastic and
odorous shrubs; while, winding amidst them, a broad and silver stream
broke into light at frequent intervals, snatched by wood and hillock
from the eye, only to steal upon it again, in sudden and bright
surprise. The opposite slope of gentle mountains, as well as that which
the horsemen now descended, was covered with vineyards, trained in
alleys and arcades: and the clustering grape laughed from every leafy
and glossy covert, as gaily as when the Fauns held a holiday in the
shade. The eye of the Cavalier roved listlessly over this enchanting
prospect, sleeping in the rosiest light of a Tuscan heaven, and then
became fixed with a more earnest attention on the grey and frowning
walls of a distant castle, which, high upon the steepest of the opposite
mountains, overlooked the valley.
“Behold,” he muttered to himself, “how every Eden in Italy hath its
curse! Wherever the land smiles fairest, be sure to find the brigand’s
tent and the tyrant’s castle!”
Scarce had these thoughts passed his mind, ere the shrill and sudden
blast of a bugle that sounded close amongst the vineyards by the side
of the path startled the whole group. The cavalcade halted abruptly. The
leader made a gesture to the squire who led his war-horse. The noble
and practised animal remained perfectly still, save by champing its bit
restlessly, and moving its quick ear to and fro, as aware of a coming
danger,--while the squire, unencumbered by the heavy armour of the
Germans, plunged into the thicket and disappeared. He returned in a few
minutes, already heated and breathless.
“We must be on our guard,” he whispered; “I see the glimmer of steel
through the vine leaves.”
“Our ground is unhappily chosen,” said the Knight, hastily bracing on
his helmet and leaping on his charger; and waving his hand towards a
broader space in the road, which would permit the horsemen more room
to act in union, with his small band he made hastily to the spot--the
armour of the soldiers rattling heavily as two by two they proceeded on.
The space to which the Cavalier had pointed was a green semicircle of
several yards in extent, backed by tangled copses of brushwood sloping
down to the vale below. They reached it in safety; they drew up breast
to breast in the form of a crescent: every visor closed save that of the
Knight, who looked anxiously and keenly round the landscape.
“Hast thou heard, Giulio,” he said, to his favourite squire, (the only
Italian of the band,) “whether any brigands have been seen lately in
these parts?”
“No, my Lord; on the contrary, I am told that every lance hath left the
country to join the Grand Company of Fra Moreale. The love of his pay
and plunder has drawn away the mercenaries of every Tuscan Signor.”
As he ceased speaking, the bugle sounded again from nearly the same spot
as before; it was answered by a brief and martial note from the very
rear of the horsemen. At the same moment, from the thickets behind,
broke the gleam of mail and spears. One after another, rank after rank,
from the copse behind them, emerged men-at-arms, while suddenly, from
the vines in front, still greater numbers poured forth with loud and
fierce shouts.
“For God, for the Emperor, and for the Colonna!” cried the Knight,
closing his visor; and the little band, closely serried, the lance in
every rest, broke upon the rush of the enemy in front. A score or so,
borne to the ground by the charge, cleared a path for the horsemen, and,
without waiting the assault of the rest, the Knight wheeled his charger
and led the way down the hill, almost at full gallop, despite the
roughness of the descent: a flight of arrows despatched after them fell
idly on their iron mail.
“If they have no horse,” cried the Knight, “we are saved!”
And, indeed, the enemy seemed scarcely to think of pursuing them; but
(gathered on the brow of a hill) appeared contented to watch their
flight.
Suddenly a curve in the road brought them before a broad and wide patch
of waste land, which formed almost a level surface, interrupting the
descent of the mountain. On the commencement of this waste, drawn up in
still array, the sunlight broke on the breastplates of a long line of
horsemen, whom the sinuosities of the road had hitherto concealed from
the Knight and his party.
The little troop halted abruptly--retreat--advance alike cut off; gazing
first at the foe before them, that remained still as a cloud, every eye
was then turned towards the Knight.
“An thou wouldst, my Lord,” said the leader of the Northmen, perceiving
the irresolution of their chief, “we will fight to the last. You are the
only Italian I ever knew whom I would willingly die for!”
This rude profession was received with a sympathetic murmur from the
rest, and the soldiers drew closer around the Knight. “Nay, my brave
fellows,” said the Colonna, lifting his visor, “it is not in so
inglorious a field, after such various fortunes, that we are doomed to
perish. If these be brigands, as we must suppose, we can yet purchase
our way. If the troops of some Signor, we are strangers to the feud in
which he is engaged. Give me yon banner--I will ride on to them.”
“Nay, my Lord,” said Giulio; “such marauders do not always spare a flag
of truce. There is danger--”
“For that reason your leader braves it. Quick!”
The Knight took the banner, and rode deliberately up to the horsemen. On
approaching, his warlike eye could not but admire the perfect caparison
of their arms, the strength and beauty of their steeds, and the steady
discipline of their long and glittering line.
As he rode up, and his gorgeous banner gleamed in the noonlight, the
soldiers saluted him. It was a good omen, and he hailed it as such.
“Fair sirs,” said the Knight, “I come, at once herald and leader of the
little band who have just escaped the unlooked-for assault of armed men
on yonder hill--and, claiming aid, as knight from knight, and soldier
from soldier, I place my troop under the protection of your leader.
Suffer me to see him.”
“Sir Knight,” answered one, who seemed the captain of the band, “sorry
am I to detain one of your gallant bearing, and still more so, on
recognising the device of one of the most potent houses of Italy. But
our orders are strict, and we must bring all armed men to the camp of
our General.”
“Long absent from my native land, I knew not,” replied the Knight, “that
there was war in Tuscany. Permit me to crave the name of the general
whom you speak of, and that of the foe against whom ye march.”
The Captain smiled slightly.
“Walter de Montreal is the General of the Great Company, and Florence
his present foe.”
“We have fallen, then, into friendly, if fierce, hands,” replied the
Knight, after a moment’s pause. “To Sir Walter de Montreal I am known
of old. Permit me to return to my companions, and acquaint them that
if accident has made us prisoners, it is, at least, only to the most
skilful warrior of his day that we are condemned to yield.”
The Italian then turned his horse to join his comrades.
“A fair Knight and a bold presence,” said the Captain of the Companions
to his neighbour, “though I scarce think it is the party we are ordered
to intercept. Praised be the Virgin, however, his men seem from the
North. Them, perhaps, we may hope to enlist.”
The Knight now, with his comrades, rejoined the troop. And, on receiving
their parole not to attempt escape, a detachment of thirty horsemen
were despatched to conduct the prisoners to the encampment of the Great
Company.
Turning from the main road, the Knight found himself conducted into a
narrow defile between the hills, which, succeeded by a gloomy track of
wild forest-land, brought the party at length into a full and abrupt
view of a wide plain, covered with the tents of what, for Italian
warfare, was considered a mighty army. A stream, over which rude and
hasty bridges had been formed from the neighbouring timber, alone
separated the horsemen from the encampment.
“A noble sight!” said the captive Cavalier, with enthusiasm, as he
reined in his steed, and gazed upon the wild and warlike streets of
canvass, traversing each other in vistas broad and regular.
One of the captains of the Great Company who rode beside him, smiled
complacently.
“There are few masters of the martial art who equal Fra Moreale,”
said he; “and savage, reckless, and gathered from all parts and all
countries--from cavern and from marketplace, from prison and from
palace, as are his troops, he has reduced them already into a discipline
which might shame even the soldiery of the Empire.”
The Knight made no reply; but, spurring his horse over one of the rugged
bridges, soon found himself amidst the encampment. But that part at
which he entered little merited the praises bestowed upon the discipline
of the army. A more unruly and disorderly array, the Cavalier,
accustomed to the stern regularity of English, French, and German
discipline, thought he had never beheld: here and there, fierce,
unshaven, half-naked brigands might be seen, driving before them the
cattle which they had just collected by predatory excursions.
Sometimes a knot of dissolute women stood--chattering, scolding,
gesticulating--collected round groups of wild shagged Northmen, who,
despite the bright purity of the summer-noon, were already engaged in
deep potations. Oaths, and laughter, and drunken merriment, and fierce
brawl, rang from side to side; and ever and anon some hasty conflict
with drawn knives was begun and finished by the fiery and savage bravoes
of Calabria or the Apennines, before the very eyes and almost in the
very path of the troop. Tumblers, and mountebanks, and jugglers, and Jew
pedlers, were exhibiting their tricks or their wares at every interval,
apparently well inured to the lawless and turbulent market in which they
exercised their several callings. Despite the protection of the horsemen
who accompanied them, the prisoners were not allowed to pass without
molestation. Groups of urchins, squalid, fierce, and ragged, seemed to
start from the ground, and surrounded their horses like swarms of bees,
uttering the most discordant cries; and, with the gestures of savages,
rather demanding than beseeching money, which, when granted, seemed only
to render them more insatiable. While, sometimes mingled with the
rest, were seen the bright eyes and olive cheek, and half-pleading,
half-laughing smile of girls, whose extreme youth, scarce emerged
from childhood, rendered doubly striking their utter and unredeemed
abandonment.
“You did not exaggerate the decorum of the Grand Company!” cried the
Knight, gravely, to his new acquaintance.
“Signor,” replied the other, “you must not judge of the kernel by the
shell. We are scarcely yet arrived at the camp. These are the outskirts,
occupied rather by the rabble than the soldiers. Twenty thousand men
from the sink, it must be owned, of every town in Italy, follow
the camp, to fight if necessary, but rather for plunder, and for
forage:--such you now behold. Presently you will see those of another
stamp.”
The Knight’s heart swelled high. “And to such men is Italy given up!”
thought he. His revery was broken by a loud burst of applause from some
convivialists hard by. He turned, and under a long tent, and round a
board covered with wine and viands, sate some thirty or forty bravoes. A
ragged minstrel, or jongleur, with an immense beard and mustachios, was
tuning, with no inconsiderable skill, a lute which had accompanied him
in all his wanderings--and suddenly changing its notes into a wild and
warlike melody, he commenced in a loud and deep voice the following
song:--
The Praise of the Grand Company.
1.
Ho, dark one from the golden South,--
Ho, fair one from the North;
Ho, coat of mail and spear of sheen--
Ho, wherefore ride ye forth?
“We come from mount, we come from cave,
We come across the sea,
In long array, in bright array,
To Montreal’s Companie.”
Oh, the merry, merry band.
Light heart, and heavy hand--
Oh, the Lances of the Free!
2.
Ho, Princes of the castled height--
Ho, Burghers of the town;
Apulia’s strength, Romagna’s pride,
And Tusca’s old renown!
Why quail ye thus? why pale ye thus?
What spectre do ye see?
“The blood-red flag, and trampling march,
Of Montreal’s Companie.”
Oh, the sunshine of your life--
Oh, the thunders of your strife!
Wild Lances of the Free!
3.
Ho, scutcheons o’er the vaulted tomb
Where Norman valour sleeps,
Why shake ye so? why quake ye so!
What wind the trophy sweeps?
“We shake without a breath--below,
The dead are stirred to see,
The Norman’s fame revived again
In Montreal’s Companie.”
Since Roger won his crown,
Who hath equalled your renown,
Brave Lances of the Free?
4.
Ho, ye who seek to win a name,
Where deeds are bravest done--
Ho, ye who wish to pile a heap,
Where gold is lightest won;
Ho, ye who loathe the stagnant life,
Or shun the law’s decree,
Belt on the brand, and spur the steed,
To Montreal’s Companie.
And the maid shall share her rest,
And the miser share his chest,
With the Lances of the Free!
The Free!
The Free!
Oh! the Lances of the Free!
Then suddenly, as if inspired to a wilder flight by his own minstrelsy,
the jongleur, sweeping his hand over the chords, broke forth into an
air admirably expressive of the picture which his words, running into a
rude, but lively and stirring doggerel, attempted to paint.
The March of the Grand Company.
Tira, tirala--trumpet and drum--
Rising bright o’er the height of the mountain they come!
German, and Hun, and the Islandrie,
Who routed the Frenchman at famed Cressie,
When the rose changed its hue with the fleur-de-lis;
With the Roman, and Lombard, and Piedmontese,
And the dark-haired son of the southern seas.
Tira, tirala--more near and near
Down the steep--see them sweep;--rank by rank they appear!
With the Cloud of the Crowd hanging dark at their rear--
Serried, and steadied, and orderlie,
Like the course--like the force--of a marching sea!
Open your gates, and out with your gold,
For the blood must be spilt, or the ransom be told!
Woe, Burghers, woe! Behold them led
By the stoutest arm and the wisest head,
With the snow-white cross on the cloth of red;--
With the eagle eye, and the lion port,
His barb for a throne, and his camp for a court:
Sovereign and scourge of the land is he--
The kingly Knight of the Companie!
Hurrah--hurrah--hurrah!
Hurrah for the army--hurrah for its lord--
Hurrah for the gold that is got by the sword--
Hurrah--hurrah--hurrah!
For the Lances of the Free!
Shouted by the full chorus of those desperate boon-companions, and
caught up and re-echoed from side to side, near and far, as the familiar
and well-known words of the burthen reached the ears of more distant
groups or stragglers, the effect of this fierce and licentious
minstrelsy was indescribable. It was impossible not to feel the zest
which that daring life imparted to its daring followers, and even the
gallant and stately Knight who listened to it, reproved himself for an
involuntary thrill of sympathy and pleasure.
He turned with some impatience and irritation to his companion, who had
taken a part in the chorus, and said, “Sir, to the ears of an Italian
noble, conscious of the miseries of his country, this ditty is not
welcome. I pray you, let us proceed.”
“I humbly crave your pardon, Signor,” said the Free Companion; “but
really so attractive is the life led by Free Lances, under Fra Moreale,
that sometimes we forget the--; but pardon me--we will on.”
A few moments more, and bounding over a narrow circumvallation, the
party found themselves in a quarter, animated indeed, but of a wholly
different character of animation. Long lines of armed men were drawn up
on either side of a path, conducting to a large marquee, placed upon
a little hillock, surmounted by a blue flag, and up this path armed
soldiers were passing to and fro with great order, but with a pleased
and complacent expression upon their swarthy features. Some that
repaired to the marquee were bearing packets and bales upon their
shoulders--those that returned seemed to have got rid of their burthens,
but every now and then, impatiently opening their hands, appeared
counting and recounting to themselves the coins contained therein.
The Knight looked inquiringly at his companion.
“It is the marquee of the merchants,” said the captain; “they have
free admission to the camp, and their property and persons are rigidly
respected. They purchase each soldier’s share of the plunder at fair
prices, and either party is contented with the bargain.”
“It seems, then, that there is some kind of rude justice observed
amongst you,” said the Knight.
“Rude! Diavolo! Not a town in Italy but would be glad of such even
justice, and such impartial laws. Yonder lie the tents of the judges,
appointed to try all offences of soldier against soldier. To the right,
the tent with the golden ball contains the treasurer of the army. Fra
Moreale incurs no arrears with his soldiery.”
It was, indeed, by these means that the Knight of St. John had collected
the best equipped and the best contented force in Italy. Every day
brought him recruits. Nothing was spoken of amongst the mercenaries of
Italy but the wealth acquired in his service, and every warrior in the
pay of Republic or of Tyrant sighed for the lawless standard of Fra
Moreale. Already had exaggerated tales of the fortunes to be made in the
ranks of the Great Company passed the Alps; and, even now, the Knight,
penetrating farther into the camp, beheld from many a tent the proud
banners and armorial blazon of German nobility and Gallic knighthood.
“You see,” said the Free Companion, pointing to these insignia, “we are
not without our different ranks in our wild city. And while we speak,
many a golden spur is speeding hitherward from the North!”
All now in the quarter they had entered was still and solemn; only afar
came the mingled hum, or the sudden shout of the pandemonium in the
rear, mellowed by distance to a not unpleasing sound. An occasional
soldier, crossing their path, stalked silently and stealthily to some
neighbouring tent, and seemed scarcely to regard their approach.
“Behold! we are before the General’s pavilion,” said the Free Lance.
Blazoned with purple and gold, the tent of Montreal lay a little apart
from the rest. A brooklet from the stream they had crossed murmured
gratefully on the ear, and a tall and wide-spreading beech cast its
shadow over the gorgeous canvass.
While his troop waited without, the knight was conducted at once to the
presence of the formidable adventurer.