The march of a feudal army of that day was a beautiful thing to see.
Although a part of the splendour which it afterwards assumed, when the
surcoats of the knights were embroidered with their arms, was not yet
displayed, still those arms were emblazoned upon the banners and on the
shields, still the richest colours that the looms of France, Italy, and
England could supply, were to be found in the housings of the horses,
and in the pourpoints and coats of the knights, and in the beautiful
scarfs, called cointises, then lately introduced, which, passing over
the right shoulder and under the left arm, fluttered like many tinted
streamers in the air, with every breath of wind.
Yes, it was a beautiful sight to see; and wisely does the rugged front
of war deck itself with every brilliant accessory, to hide the dark and
murderous look which would otherwise scare the hearts of men.
It was a beautiful sight; and as Hugh de Monthermer detached with a
body of horse-archers and men-at-arms from the main army to reconnoitre
the neighbouring country--stood for a moment on a little hill, looking
down the lovely vale of Evesham, and watched the host of De Montfort
winding on its way from Kemestow, probably a more magnificent scene
never met the eyes of man.
Sunshine, the bright sunshine of a summer's day, was over the whole,
mingling the ingredient of its own loveliness with every fair thing in
the landscape. Still, now and then, over the brilliant blue sky floated
a light cloud, like a flying island, casting here and there a deep
shadow, which hurried speedily onward, leaving all shining behind
it--like those fits of gentle pensiveness which come at times even upon
the happiest spirit, scarcely to be called melancholy, but seeming as
if a shade from something above us flitted over our minds for a moment,
and then left them to the sunshine and the light.
On one hand, rising tall and blue, was the beautiful range of Malvern,
with many a lesser hill springing out from the base, wooded to the top,
and often crowned with an embattled tower. On the other side were the
high grounds running down in the direction of Sudleigh, covered with
magnificent trees, and bearing up innumerable castles, while here and
there the spire of a church peeped out, or the pinnacles of an abbey.
In the wide expanse between the two were seen the rich slopes, the
green meadows, the corn-bearing fields, the long lines of forest that
still distinguish the lovely vale of Evesham, with tower, town, and
hamlet, brook and river, offering a confusion of beautiful forms and
splendid colouring; and, in the midst of this, marched on the army of
De Montfort, with banners displayed and pennons fluttering in the wind.
First came the slingers with their staves and leathern bands, and then
the light foot pikemen, armed with the shorter spears and oucins. The
former were totally without defensive armour, and the latter were only
protected by a pectoral, or breastplate of steel scales hanging from
the neck, and a round steel buckler on the arm. All was confusion
amongst them, as they ran on, preceding the rest of the army, somewhat
in the manner of modern skirmishers, only with less discipline and
skill. But immediately following these appeared the first regular
troops, consisting of various bands of heavy armed spearmen, with much
longer lances than the former, and defended by the steel cap, or
_chapel de fer_, the long oval shields, and thickly-stuffed hauqueton,
so stiff and hard as to resist the blow of sword or dagger.
Some of these bands, according to the taste or the means of their
leader, were furnished with the same pectorals of scales that were
borne by the lighter spearmen; while some had short hauberks of steel
rings, set edgewise--and some were unprovided with any other armour for
the body than the hauqueton of which we have already spoken. Marching,
however, in regular order, with their spears leaning on their
shoulders, and their steel caps glistening in the sun, they presented a
fine martial appearance, and were, in fact, a very formidable body to
attack.
After the pikemen came the bands of archers, the pride of the English
army. In general they were covered with the hauberk and the steel
cap of the times, but--upon what account it is difficult to be
discovered--each wore above his armour a sort of leathern cuirass,
ornamented with four round plates of iron. Their arrows were in a belt
at their waist, their bows unbent in their hands, while each man had
his anelace, or short dagger, hanging from his neck by a cord, and many
of the bands were also, furnished with a strong broad sword of about
two feet in length.
Little difference existed in the equipment of the crossbowmen, who in
the army of De Montfort were not very numerous, as the arbalist was a
foreign arm; for his being more especially the English party, care was
taken to avoid everything that had not some touch of the national
character about it.
Bodies of horse-archers followed, and then came the long line of
men-at-arms, marching four abreast, with their polished harness
reflecting every ray, but presenting a very different appearance from
that of the cavalry at an after period, when plate armour had been
introduced. At this time each ring of their mail caught the light, and
sent the rays glancing to the eyes of the beholder, at a different
angle from the one next to it, so that a more sparkling object could
scarcely be seen than the new hauberk of a knight in the middle of the
thirteenth century. Great pride, too, was taken by each soldier in
keeping his arms bright and highly polished; and though many of the
leaders wore a rich surcoat without sleeves, yet others took a pride in
displaying their full panoply. Certainly a more splendid sight has
rarely been witnessed than the long line of De Montfort's cavalry
winding onward through the beautiful vale of Evesham.
Ever and anon, too, the light summer wind brought to the ears of Hugh
de Monthermer the stirring blast of the trumpet, and the loud shouted
word of command; and as he gaged and listened, his high chivalrous soul
seemed to swell within him, and he longed to break a lance or wield a
sword against the most renowned champion that Europe could produce.
Riding onward at the head of his men, through the by-ways by which he
had been directed to advance upon Evesham, visions of glory, and of
honour, and of knightly fame, swam before his eyes, chasing away, for
the first time, a dark train of melancholy images which had possessed
him ever since the father of her he loved had gone over to the enemy.
It was not, indeed, that the hope of winning renown could banish the
memory of Lucy de Ashby, but in those days the passion for glory was so
intimately mingled with the thoughts of love, that they never could be
separated from each other. To know that she would hear of his deeds of
arms--to know that her bosom would thrill at the tidings--to know that
her heart would go with him to the battlefield, and that she would
watch and listen for every tale and every history concerning the scenes
in which he was now mingling, was a solace and a comfort to him.
Glorious actions were one of the ways of wooing in chivalrous times,
and but too often the only way to which the true-hearted lover could
have recourse. Such indeed was now the situation of Hugh de Monthermer
himself, and such, he knew, would, in all probability, be his state for
many years, unless some of the great accidents of war brought to a
speedy extinction the flame which was just kindled in the country.
Thus the desire of military glory was the twin sister of his love for
Lucy de Ashby, and at that moment, when the splendid pageantry of the
marching army passed before his eyes, and the inspiring blast of the
trumpet reached his ear, he would gladly have defied the most renowned
champion in all Europe for honour and the lady that he loved.
The host moved on, however, and, after gazing for a minute or two, Hugh
once more pursued his course, eagerly examining from every little
eminence in the plain the whole country around him, to see if friend or
foe was near, in arms, to the forces of De Montfort. But nothing
appeared--all was calm and tranquil. There was the village girl
tripping away through the fields, the long ears of corn almost reaching
to her head; there was the labourer reaping the barley of a rich and
early season; there was the wagoner guiding his team along the road;
there was the herd driving his cattle into the shade; but the only
martial thing that struck the eye was the glancing of De Montfort's
spears, as they wound onward at the distance of about a mile.
It was towards evening, and the host of the Earl was entering the
little town of Evesham, about two miles from the spot at which Hugh de
Monthermer had by this time arrived, when an object attracted his
attention in a small wood at some short distance. The declining sun
shone upon something glistening under the trees. It might be a
ploughshare, the young knight thought; but a moment after, another
gleam came from a different part of the copse, and he instantly turned
his horse's head thither, advancing cautiously along a narrow lane,
with some archers thrown out in the fields on either side.
After having gone on for about ten minutes, a living creature, creeping
along under the hedge, was observed both by the young lord and the
persons immediately behind him, but in the dimness of the shade they
could not discover what it was.
"'Tis a dog," said Tom Blawket, who was in the first rank behind his
leader.
"Or a wolf," remarked another man near.
"'Tis more like a bear," observed a third, "and it goes like a bear."
"Pooh! you are always thinking of the Holy Land," rejoined Blawket; "we
have no bears here but bears upon two legs."
At that moment Hugh spurred on his horse, and raising his voice,
shouted aloud, "Tangel, Tangel, is that you?"
The dwarf started upon his feet, for he was creeping along with
wonderful swiftness upon his hands and knees; and, turning round at the
well known sound of the young lord's call, he darted towards him with
various wild and extravagant gestures.
"They are here," he cried--"they are here; Robin and Ralph and all, and
right glad will they be to see you, for we have had a sore time of it
these last four days. They thought it was the Prince's army again, and
sent me out of the wood to discover."
"Right glad shall we be to meet them, too," replied Hugh; "for though
we are strong enough, I trust, and shall soon be stronger, yet a
reinforcement of seven or eight hundred gallant men can never come
amiss."
"Not so many as that, good knight--not so many as that!" cried the
dwarf. "Some of the Yorkshire churls were afraid to come by the road we
took, and went round by Stafford--the rascals that Leighton raised, and
Shergold of the bower. Thus there are but Robin and Ralph Harland, and
two hundred and fifty barely counted; but they are good men and true,
who will send you an arrow through the key-hole of Mumbury church-door,
or beat the sheriff's constable into the shape of a horseshoe."
"They shall be welcome--they shall be welcome!" said Hugh; "and as for
the others, the man who has ever felt a doubt or fear in a good cause,
had better not bring his faint heart to spread the mildew through a
gallant army."
When the young knight, however, met his yeoman friends, under the first
trees of the little wood, he found the bearing of bold Robin Hood
somewhat more serious than it was wont to be.
"What is the matter, Robin?" he asked, after they had greeted each
other kindly.
"I know not, my lord," replied the forester; "but wild rumours have
reached us in the course of the day, of a battle fought and De Montfort
routed."
Hugh de Monthermer laughed. "Nay, Robin," he said, "from that little
hill you may see even now the last troops of the great Earl's gallant
force marching into Evesham without a plume shorn from a crest, without
banner torn, or a surcoat rent."
"That is good news, my lord," answered Robin Hood, "that is good news."
But still he looked grave, and added, "the tidings came from the
Warwick side, and I love not such rumours, whether they show what men
fear, or what men hope."
"From the Warwick side!" said Hugh, musing in turn. "My Lord of
Leicester must hear this. Come, Robin--come, Ralph, let us quickly on
to Evesham. My uncle's men keep good quarters for me and mine, and I
will share them with you for to-night. Have you no horses?"
"No, my lord," replied Ralph; "we have marched with our people afoot.
I have here a hundred good spears, and Robin some seven score archers.
If you go on with your mounted men, we will soon follow, now that we
know there are friends before us. For the last four days we have slept
in the fields and woods; for the marchings and countermarchings of
Prince Edward have more than once brought us nearly into a net. Go
on--go on, my lord, and we will follow you."
Hugh de Monthermer did not hesitate to do so; for he was well aware
that at such a critical moment the least intelligence might be of
importance to De Montfort. The moment he reached Evesham he left his
men under the command of one of the principal followers of his house,
and proceeded through the thronged confusion of the streets to seek the
head-quarters of the Earl of Leicester. He found him at the abbey
surrounded by a number of officers, and leading the King, with every
appearance of deference and profound respect, to the apartment which
had been prepared for him. This being done, and the usual measures
having been taken to guard against the monarch's escape, the Earl
turned to go back to the refectory.
The moment his eye fell upon Hugh, De Montfort beckoned him to follow;
and, in the large dining hall of the monks, called him into one of the
deep windows, saying, "You have some news for me, I see. What is it?"
Hugh related to him his meeting with their friends, and mentioned the
rumours they had heard, which brought a sudden gloom on De Montfort's
brow.
"Ah!" he exclaimed; "from Warwick did he say the news had come?"
"From the side of Warwick, my lord," replied Hugh.
"By St. James, that were bad tidings, if true!" continued the Earl;
"but it cannot be! I had letters from my son, last night. No, no; all
is well. He had watched for Edward," he said, "but the Prince had not
come.--Thanks, thanks, my young friend!--these good yeomen arrive most
seasonably. See that they be well lodged and fed. Take care of your own
people too; for, although the King told your uncle just now that he
looked upon him as the worst enemy he had, I regard him as one of the
best subjects in the land. So good night for the present, we must be
early in the saddle to-morrow."