THE RELIEF OF HENNEBON
"THY name and style, fair sir?"
"My name is Raymond Buckland, squire to Sir John Hacket, Constable of
the King's Castle of Portchester and Governor of the town of
Portsmouth. Lead me, I pray, to her grace the Countess of Montfort,
for I have a letter which I have to give her by my own hand."
"Nay," was the reply, "that cannot be--at least not at this moment.
The Countess led a sortie yesterday at noon, and, alas, hath not yet
returned. I, Henri Barbenoire, seigneur of the castle of Ploeac and
Seneschal, in the absence of the Countess of this town will receive
thy message."
"That cannot be," replied Raymond courteously, "for to the Countess
alone must I hand this letter."
Barbenoire, a Breton whole-heartedly devoted to his mistress, did not
press the point, but ordering a hasty meal to be prepared, remained
with the young squire. It was but a sorry repast, for already the
supplies were low, nevertheless Raymond did justice to the simple
fare, listening awhile to the narrative of the events of the siege.
Cheered by the touching confidence that the heroic Countess had given
to the townsmen of Hennebon, the garrison had fought bravely and
well. The Countess herself wore armour, and rode on a huge warhorse
through the narrow streets, encouraging her people to make good
defence, reminding them of the help she hoped would be forthcoming
from the King of England. Nor did she spare the womenfolk, for she
caused them to discard their long trains and heavy skirts and to don
short kirtles so that they could move with freedom. This done, they
were employed in carrying stones and arrows to the walls to replenish
the missiles of the defenders, and so emboldened were they by the
example of their mistress that the women did not hesitate to hurl the
stones down upon the invaders.
At length one day the Frenchmen massed outside the northern wall for
a grand assault, and, ascending a lofty tower, the Countess perceived
that their camp was empty. Instantly calling together a body of
knights and mounted men-at-arms the lady mounted her steed and,
placing herself at their head, rode straight for the French camp,
cutting down tents and setting fire to everything that would readily
burn.
The watchers on the walls saw the French host desist from the assault
and retire to intercept the Countess. Finding herself cut off from
the town, she called in her followers, and rode furiously away to
Aural, hotly pursued by Sir Louis d'Espagne, the second in command of
Charles of Blois.
Thus it was that Raymond had seen the Countess and her troops pass by
him without knowledge of their identity; and now the garrison was
ignorant of the fate of their beloved leader, none knowing whether
she had been killed or taken, or whether she had baffled pursuit.
On the morning following the arrival of Raymond and his father, the
host of Blois still encompassed the town, yet no attempt was made to
renew the assault.
The two Englishmen were enrolled as members of the garrison, and as
the days went past they with their foreign comrades gazed eagerly
from the battlements in the hope of seeing the banners of the
returning Countess.
On the fifth day, Barbenoire had ascended the lofty east tower.
Despair for his mistress had filled his soul, yet, inspiring the
townsfolk by word and deed, he gave no sign of misgiving, being
resolved to hold Hennebon as long as a single fighting-man was left.
The rising sun dazzled his vision, but a movement on the skyline
riveted his attention. Calling one of his captains, he pointed out
the spot, and both agreed that it was a body of troops approaching.
A very short time sufficed to spread the news, though Barbenoire
commanded that no demonstration should be made lest it should attract
the notice of the besiegers.
Soon it was beyond doubt that the Countess was returning. Collecting
a body of one hundred archers and spearmen, the Seneschal ordered
them to make a feint sortie from the western side while the gateway
on the opposite side was thrown open to receive the Countess. Then,
when safely within the walls with all her company and an additional
force of five hundred spears, the redoubtable Châtelaine was greeted
with a great noise of trumpets to the cheers of the delighted
townsfolk.
The besiegers, finding themselves tricked, could not refrain from
praising the boldness and skill of the Countess of Montfort.
Nevertheless, they advanced to the assault, and the struggle waxed
fierce until noon, when, unable to gain a lodgment, the partisans of
Blois sullenly retreated to their camp.
Directly the attack was repulsed, Raymond hastened to the presence of
the Countess. She had now divested herself of her bascinet and steel
jupon, and the young squire saw before him a tall, stately lady of
about thirty years of age. Her finely chiselled face was crowned by a
wealth of auburn hair, which, ruffled by the removal of her
headpiece, served to hide the somewhat lofty brow.
Raymond could but marvel that such a truly feminine form possessed
the courage and endurance of a man, and his astonishment was
increased when she addressed him in low, sweet tones, for he had
heard of the Countess's soul-stirring speech, when, holding her
little son by the hand, she had so successfully appealed to the
chivalrous instincts of her knights and to the loyalty of the
townsfolk.
Concealing her agitation at the arrival of such important news from
England, the Countess broke the seals and opened the letter. Her face
flushed with pleasure as she read its contents.
"Hearken, my fair lords, to the message of our noble overlord the
King of England," she cried, turning to those who were with her.
"Four score ships by now are on their way to aid us, and ere long
three thousand men, under Sir Robert of Artois and Sir Walter Manny,
will be on the heels of our enemies."
Shouts of exultation greeted this announcement, and, the news quickly
spreading, the whole town was given over to rejoicing.
But meanwhile active preparations were being made by Charles of Blois
to make another general assault, and the arrival of some formidable
siege-engines enabled him to breach the walls in several places;
while the garrison, kept in a state of constant alarm, were worn with
toil and endless vigil.
Every morning at sunrise, for nearly two months, the Countess would
ascend the loftiest tower in Hennebon and gaze towards the distant
Cape of Ushant in the hope of catching sight of the sails of the
English fleet. But her expectations remained unrealised, for seaward
the horizon was unbroken, while around the town lay the close lines
of her relentless foes.
At length one of her partisans, the Bishop of Leon, informed her that
his nephew, Henri de Rohan, who was in the camp of Blois, desired to
hold converse with her; and, being granted safe conduct, the knight
entered the town for the purpose of inducing the besieged to
surrender, promising an honourable capitulation, with permission for
the garrison to withdraw.
For a while it seemed as if De Rohan's words would gain the day, till
the Countess, supported by Barbenoire, again harangued her knights,
and the ecclesiastic withdrew discomfited.
Thereupon the French advanced to the grand assault, while the
besieged caught up their arms and silently yet resolutely awaited
their approach.
But ere the archers could begin their hail of arrows which was to
open the attack, the ringing voice of the Countess was heard from the
summit of the tower:--
"Voilà, le secours! Voilà le secours anglais! Courage, enfans; nous
sommes sauvés!"
"Will they be in time?" asked Raymond anxiously, as he stood by his
father on the shattered wall.
"If we can but make good the battlements for one hour all will be
well. Canst see aught of the ships?"
"Not as yet."
"Then heaven forfend the Countess be not mistaken. Stand to it,
Raymond, for here they come!"
All conversation was stopped by the on-coming foemen. The squire
closed his visor, and crouching behind his shield, awaited the
attack. Under cover of the archers the men-at-arms advanced. Though
some fell before the darts of the besieged, the main body pressed
steadily onward, till they reached the breach in the shattered
masonry.
The impact of the two forces was terrific; men went down on both
sides, and, as sword and lance were shattered, axes, mauls, and maces
continued the deadly work. The air was rent with the clash of arms,
the shouts of the combatants, and the groans of the dying; but the
townsfolk held their own, and after an hour's desperate struggle the
attacking party retired.
"'Tis hot work!" exclaimed Redward breathlessly, throwing down a
heavy axe and removing his steel cap to cool his heated head. "Run
and see if our comrades are yet in sight."
To gain the summit of the tower was the work of a moment, and to the
squire's great delight he saw the English ships already within easy
distance of the harbour, their sails bellying out before the
favouring breeze, and the water churned by the lash of the oars.
"They come! They come!" he shouted joyously.
"And so doth the foe," replied Redward grimly. "Haste back to the
breach, for, by St. George, 'tis touch-and-go with Hennebon!"
Again the attackers advanced, one knight, utterly regardless of his
life, urging his horse towards the gap in the wall. Crouching, with
lance in rest, the Frenchman spurred over the shattered stones,
received yet recked not a hail of arrows, and rode furiously towards
Raymond, who, sword in hand, awaited his approach.
It would have gone hardly with the young squire had it not been for
the unevenness of the ground, for the horse stumbled over a loose
stone, throwing its rider heavily on the ground.
In spite of the weight of his armour and the shock of his fall, the
knight, a man of gigantic strength, rose to his feet, dropping his
lance and wrenching his mace from the saddle-bow. As he did so
Raymond struck him a heavy blow with his weapon, but the steel turned
against the crest of his casque and was shattered close to the hilt.
In a moment the mace beat down the squire's shield and descended upon
his head, and without a cry the squire dropped senseless to the
ground.
But his fall was speedily avenged. Wielding his heavy axe, Redward
sprang forward and smote at the Frenchman's helm. Realising his
danger, the knight sprang aside; but, though avoiding a fatal blow,
he did not escape, for the axe, glancing off the crest, caught the
projecting visor. Unable to stand the strain, the leathern laces of
his helmet burst, and the bascinet, though prevented by the camail
from falling off, was turned back to front, so that the unfortunate
wearer was unable to see through the openings of the visor.
Dazed by the blow and in total darkness, the Frenchman staggered
blindly about, still striking feeble and aimless blows, till the
defenders, with taunts and execrations, beat him to the ground and
despatched him with their axes.
Meanwhile Redward bent over the prostrate form of his son, but ere he
could ascertain whether the blow had been fatal the main attack had
commenced. Gallantly the besieged met the shock; many fell on both
sides, and for the space of a quarter of an hour the issue hung in
the balance.
At length, reinforced by a band of knights under Louis d'Espagne, the
assailants bore back all before them. Barbenoire, fighting gallantly
to the last, fell covered with wounds. Redward, standing over his
son's body, kept back the press for a time, till, borne down by the
weight of numbers, he was struck to the earth, but ere he lost
consciousness he was dimly aware of the sound of English voices and
the renewed clash of arms.
At the critical moment the long-expected aid had arrived!
Once more the tide of battle turned, and the followers of the House
of Blois, unable to withstand the fierce onslaught of the English,
fled panic-stricken before the reinforcements, the knights and
mounted men-at-arms of Sir Walter Manny riding down all who came in
their way.
When at length the victorious Manny returned from the pursuit, the
Countess of Montfort came forth and warmly greeted him.
"Of a truth, fair sir," she exclaimed, as the warrior knelt and
kissed her hand, "I cannot but liken you to the Archangel Michael
sent from heaven in answer to our prayers!"
Meanwhile the inhabitants of the town were busy pillaging the camp of
their enemies, bringing in additional food supplies and tending their
own wounded--for those of their assailants who were left in their
hands were mercilessly despatched, save where their rank made them
likely subjects for ransom.
Redward and his son were found surrounded by the bodies of friend and
foe, senseless but still breathing. The Countess had been apprised of
the fall of her gallant messenger, and had ordered the young squire
and his father to be carried into her own house within the castle.
Sir Walter Manny himself also came frequently to see how fared the
forerunner of his arrival, and brought with him his own chirurgeon to
attend the two.
For four days Raymond lay unconscious, till one morning his scattered
senses returned, and he opened his eyes to find himself in a roomy
apartment overlooking the town walls. Instead of the clash of arms
the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing. Beside him
were the Countess and a group of Englishmen of quality; a little
distance off lay Redward on a soft couch, his gaze fixed intently
upon his son.
Then the young squire realised that Hennebon was saved, and that his
father was still with him; and with a sigh of contentment he fell
into a deep and natural slumber.
The wounds of both Raymond and his father were severe, and a
considerable time elapsed ere they were capable of moving about,
while their complete recovery, in spite of the kindly climate of fair
Brittany, was a tedious business. Thus they missed the remaining
portion of the Brittany campaign, in which Robert of Artois captured
Vannes, and was soon afterwards driven from that town by a surprise
attack on the part of some Breton adherents of Charles of Blois.
Shortly after, the existing treaty between England and France was
terminated, for during the struggle in Brittany a truce was nominally
in force, the armies of England and France ostentatiously supporting
the claim of the rival dukes; but on the expiration of the treaty war
was openly resumed between the two great nations.
The King of England landed at Marbain with 12,000 men, and
simultaneously laid siege to Vannes, Rennes, and Mantes, but the
triple task was beyond his power, and under the influence of the
Pope's legates he agreed to observe a truce for three years.
Immediately following this pacific arrangement King Edward
re-embarked for his own dominions, and with the army went Raymond and
Redward, the former despondent at the news of the truce, regarding it
as being fatal to his cherished hopes of winning the golden spurs of
knighthood.