COLLINGHAM’S RAVENS
It has been before stated that William de Collingham had a very strong
reason for forming his camp of refuge where he did form it--on the islet
in the heart of a forest in Sussex, and near the sea-coast. His
adventure at Chas-Chateil had very forcibly reminded the stout knight
that connected with the ruins tenanted by the anchorite at the islet was
a secret passage formed by the hand of man in the earlier days of
England’s history, and leading to a precipitous little vale in the wood,
at the distance of half-a-mile. This passage was not, indeed, in the
best condition, the ground having in some places fallen in, so as almost
to block it up; but the knight, on examining it carefully, saw that with
a little labour it might be rendered passable without inconvenience, and
not only give his followers a great advantage over their foes in the
partisan warfare which he intended to carry on, but afford them the
means of a secret retreat in case of being threatened by any
overwhelming force.
In both respects the subterranean passage served his purpose admirably.
By means of it, even when the islet was invested, Oliver Icingla was
enabled to sally forth on such nocturnal expeditions as that during
which he entered the tent of Eveille-chiens, and seized that leader’s
banner, the display of which gave the foreigners an idea that
preternatural influences were at work against them; and by means of it,
when the islet was invested by Eveille-chiens and Ralph Hornmouth with
such a body of troops that resistance would have been hopeless,
Collingham, while his enemies were occupied with the construction of the
causeway, gradually withdrew his whole force, and left his camp the
solitude which, to their amazement, the French captain and the English
squire found it when they entered.
Nor, in truth, did Collingham very much regret the necessity under which
he was of leaving the place associated with so many daring deeds. By the
time, indeed, that he was menaced by Eveille-chiens and Hornmouth in
company, he had received intelligence that Pembroke was preparing to
renew the war in the heart of England, and he had resolved that his
raven banner should flutter in the conflicts likely to ensue. The knight
was eager, indeed, to take part in the opening war, and to give his aid
to the royal cause where it was likely to be of most value.
However, Collingham resolved not to stake all upon the cast which was
about to be made. He therefore divided his force into two bodies. One of
them he left to harass the French garrisons in Sussex; at the head of
the other he marched right northward, and, keeping to the woods and
unfrequented places, so as to avoid coming in contact with the foreign
and Anglo-Norman soldiers who held towns and castles for Prince Louis,
he contrived, after many days’ journey, to reach the neighbourhood of
Lincoln in the very nick of time--in fact, on the evening of Friday in
Whitsuntide, when Pembroke and the king reached Stowe; and, learning
that the protector intended on the morrow, without fail, to march upon
the foe, Collingham halted and encamped on the verge of a wood to the
north of the city, that his men might rest from their fatigue, and be in
readiness and the best condition to join the royalist army on its march
from Stowe. All were in strong health and spirits. None of the brave
band were very magnificently arrayed; many of them, in truth, were
almost in rags. But most of them were armed with bows or crossbows and
short swords, and a few, like Oliver Icingla, had axes and shields. As
for Collingham, he had a long sword, and that terrible iron club which
had often served him well in times of need, and which on the morrow was
likely to do its work thoroughly.
All went well with the bold yeomen and foresters, and with their
leaders, who well-nigh twelve months earlier had vowed never to sleep
under a roof till England was cleared of the invaders, and who rigidly
kept their word. Under the May moon they reposed tranquilly till
daybreak, and, having then risen and refreshed themselves with food,
they awaited the approach of Pembroke and the army that was about to do
battle for England.
And right glad at that crisis was the great Protector to have such an
addition to his force, and infinite was the curiosity of nobles and
knights and fighting men to see the rough and ragged warriors who, as
“Collingham’s ravens,” had been celebrated in town and hamlet as the
terror of the invaders. But none were more curious on the subject than
the knights and squires of the Earl of Salisbury, who gasped and stared
at the sight of Oliver Icingla--in other days, when at Salisbury, and in
Spain and Flanders, the pink of youthful chivalry in his dress and
equipments--with his shaggy beard, his tattered white jacket, and his
battle-axe, so antique in appearance that one of Salisbury’s knights
asked laughingly if it had been wielded by some of the Icinglas who were
comrades of Hengist or of Cerdic.
However, the warriors who excited so much curiosity, and, it must be
added, some ridicule, had a pride of their own, and felt a kind of
satisfaction which few even in Pembroke’s army could know. When loyal
earls and barons were submitting to the invaders, they had treated the
invaders with defiance; they had attacked Prince Louis himself, and
forced him to make an undignified flight to his ships--the first rough
treatment he experienced in England--and, through good and evil reports,
they had adhered to the cause of England and England’s king, enduring
all hardships and despising all odds.
Verily such things might well make Collingham’s band a little proud
under the circumstances; and proud they felt of their fidelity and their
exploits as they marched towards Lincoln, their raven banner fluttering
and their stalwart chief towering in front like some giant Dane of the
days of Canute. Nor was Oliver Icingla idle. He was still much under the
influence of his strange dream in the Sussex forest, for, like most of
his race, he had the element of superstition largely in his composition,
and considered dreams and omens too serious to be disregarded. This made
him all the more joyous to go into battle, if only for change and
excitement, moving from front to rear, talking pithily to all the men,
stimulating their enthusiasm, and firing their courage and patriotism.
“Englishmen and freemen,” so ran the words of the heir of the Icinglas,
“remember your vows as the hour of battle approaches; for a battle there
will be, strong and obstinate, albeit not so bloody as some that have
been fought on English soil; and that the men whom you are going to
encounter are aliens and oppressors. So strike and spare not! Spare
neither French count nor Norman baron! This is no day for dainty
chivalry, as when a feudal sovereign takes the field against a
refractory vassal about some petty dispute, to exchange a few blows,
without inflicting a wound, and then feast together in the hall of the
nearest castle or abbey, as if nothing had happened. This is, in truth,
a very different kind of war. It is a war of Englishmen against foreign
invaders--a war of true and loyal men against false men and traitors--a
war for our homes which they have burned, and our hearths which they
have rendered desolate. Wherefore I say to you, smite and spare not!
Down with every ruffian Frank who crosses your path, and down, down with
the traitors who invited the ruffian Franks hither! I myself will not
fail, if opportunity serve me, to show you in this an example such as an
Icingla should show to Englishmen fighting for their country, and may
God and good St. Edward aid us in doing battle for our young king and
our ancient rights!”
And as the boy-warrior thus spoke, on with Pembroke’s army Collingham’s
band moved steadily and courageously till they reached the north gate of
Lincoln, and stood, straining impatiently, like greyhounds in the leash,
in their anxiety to enter and close, foot to foot and hand to hand, with
foreign invaders and Anglo-Norman oppressors.
Meanwhile, under the auspices of Falco, a movement was taking place
which caused within the walls of the city that yell which announced that
the carnage had begun.