dancing in Ayre until midnight, and the next morning all the knights went
to mass, after which they dined together in good fellowship, and at two
o'clock in the afternoon they repaired to the arena to complete the trial.
And at evening, when they had all done their part in the sport, and the air
was filled with shouting and merry talking, the trumpets were sounded to
command silence, and to Bayard was awarded the honour of decreeing the
prizes. The young knight protested that he was not worthy of so great an
honour, and was about to withdraw, but the people present insisted that he
should adjudge them, and no other, because he had fought the best of all.
So he gave the first prize, which was a bracelet of pure gold, to his
friend Bellabre; and the second one, a fine diamond, to the gallant
Scottish captain. It was usual for the knights to present the prizes they
had thus won to the young maidens whom they had chosen for their brides.
During the time Pierre remained in Ayre he made himself very much beloved
by his liberality, and his readiness to help those who were in distress.
Many of his companions were poor, although they were of noble family, and
if any one of them wanted setting up in arms, or was in need of money,
Bayard was sure to let him share the last crown piece he had in his purse.
Besides this, he never forgot the poor, and every morning he used to attend
the service of the church, which made him happy for the day, and strong to
overcome evil.
When King Charles the Eighth undertook his expedition to Naples, the good
knight accompanied him with the Seigneur de Ligny, and in the battle of
Fornova, which the French gained over the Italians on their way back to
France, he displayed great valour, and had two horses killed under him at
the first charge. Whilst the French companies remained in Italy they were
allowed to amuse themselves in tilting and jousts, provided no particular
warfare was going on at the time; and Bayard had leisure to visit the
Duchess of Savoy, at Carignan, and held a great tournament there in honour
of the favourite playmate of his childhood, who was now married to Monsieur
de Fluxas, an officer belonging to the household of Charles of Savoy. And
here he saw many who recalled the happy days at Chambery: it was a joyous
meeting on both sides, and Bayard remembered all those who had been kind to
him when he first left the old castle of Bayard, and to the master
palfrenier,[21] who was very fond of him, he gave a horse worth fifty
pieces of silver; and to the squire, who had been so loth to part with him
in Lyons, and had now retired from the service of the Duke of Savoy, he
sent a mule, because the old man was ill with the gout, and could not walk.
After the death of Charles VIII., the Italian war was continued by his
successor, Louis XII., and Bayard was constantly engaged in supporting the
honour of the French arms. In the year 1503 Louis declared war against
Ferdinand, of Arragon, because he had behaved very badly to him by
pretending to be his ally, whilst in reality he was planning to take from
the French all the places they had conquered in Italy. Three great armies
were prepared to invade the dominions of Ferdinand on every side. The good
knight served in the first: it was composed of 18,000 infantry, and 2,000
men-at-arms, and was destined for the recovery of the kingdom of Naples,
which had been wrenched out of the hands of the French by Gonsalvo, the
Great Captain.
By the time the army arrived in the south of Italy, the season was far
advanced, and the French and the Spaniards remained for a long time on the
opposite shores of the river Garigliano, near Naples. Pedro de Paz, the
leader of the Spanish troops, was a man of the most daring courage,
although in person he was so small, that it is said when he was on
horseback his head was all that could be seen of him above the saddle. One
day he formed a plan which, had it been carried out, would have caused very
great loss to the French. This was to cross the Garigliano with a hundred
men-at-arms, at a place where he knew there was a ford, in the hope that
the French would hasten thither to resist him, and leave his other troops
to gain possession of a bridge of boats which had been thrown across the
river. His plan was successful in the beginning; there was a sudden alarm
in the French camp. The good knight who always liked to be where the danger
was greatest, had a lodging close by the bridge; he happened to be there at
the time with only one of his squires. Having heard the noise, they were
just going to arm themselves, and hasten to join in the affray, when Bayard
perceived 200 of the enemy's horse advancing towards the bridge. He told
his companion to fly to the rest of the army and give the alarm, whilst he
amused the Spaniards until succour could arrive. The good knight then went
alone to the bridge with his lance in his hand, and found the Spaniards
just ready to cross at the other end. But he did not let them advance, and
kept the bridge single handed until his squire came back with 100
men-at-arms; the enemy thought at last his efforts could not be human! The
men-at-arms, with Bayard at their head, soon forced all the Spaniards to
quit their post, and chased them a good mile beyond it; they would have
pursued them farther, but they saw several hundred men coming to the
rescue, and they turned their horses in the direction of the camp. Bayard
was always the last to retreat; on this occasion he was far behind the
others, his horse being so tired that it could only go very slowly on its
way; and soon a body of Spaniards bore down suddenly upon him, his horse
was thrown into a ditch, and he was surrounded by twenty or thirty Spanish
knights, who kept crying "Surrender, Senor, surrender!" The good knight
defended himself to the utmost, but he thought he should not be able to
hold out long against so many, and fortunately his comrades, who had missed
him just as they had reached the bridge, were seen hastening to the spot
where he was so hardly pressed.
Directly the Spaniards heard the quick tread of their horses they carried
him off, and kept asking his name; but he only replied that he was a
gentleman; because if they had known whom it was they had captured he might
never have come out of their hands alive. A cry, however, rose on the air,
"Turn, Spaniards, you shall not carry away thus the flower of chivalry!"
The French came up, and a fierce struggle ensued. Bayard mounted another
horse, and soon extricated himself from his enemies, exclaiming the while,
"France! Bayard, whom you let go!" The Spaniards were greatly vexed and
discouraged when they found out how important a prize they had lost, and
began at once to retreat, while the French rode home in the winter dusk
joyful and triumphant to their camp.
The good knight held out bravely against the foes of his country, but the
enterprise did not succeed, and a treaty was made which obliged the French
to withdraw all their forces from the kingdom of Naples, and return by sea
or land to their own country. Bayard and another valiant knight named Louis
d' Ars, were very indignant that such a treaty should have been made; they
refused to sign it, and said they would rather stay in Italy and perish by
the sword than allow the Italians to believe that all Frenchmen were
cowards; and they undertook to defend several small towns which remained to
the French in Naples, with a few followers who would not forsake them, and
sold all their jewels and silver plate that they might be able to buy
provisions and ammunition. Thus, to the astonishment of Europe, these two
knights maintained the honour of their countrymen in Italy, and did not
give up the towns they had engaged to defend until the following year, when
the king recalled them to France, and rewarded them in proportion to their
services.
The good knight was dangerously wounded some years later at the taking of
Brescia. This city had opened its gates to the victorious French three
years before, but had been delivered into the hands of the Venetians
through the treachery of an Italian count, who resided within its walls. As
soon as the king's nephew, Gaston, Duke de Nemours[22] heard of this, he
marched forty leagues in the depth of winter, in the hope of recovering the
town, having already sent Bayard on in advance. The day after his arrival,
they took possession of the citadel, which still held out for the French,
and the next day they agreed to take the town by assault. The road leading
down from the citadel to the rampart was very slippery on account of the
heavy rains, and the duke was obliged to take off his shoes to prevent
himself from falling; still he went bravely on, followed by the good
knight and his men-at-arms. When the Venetians saw Bayard at the first
rampart, they tried all they could to kill him; because, they said, if he
were once overcome the others would never dare approach. Bayard steadily
gained his way, however, and cheered his men on to victory until he passed
the rampart, and a thousand of the French were enabled to make their
entrance into the town. But in doing this he received a pike-wound in his
thigh; the pike going in so hard that the end of it broke, and the iron was
left in the flesh. Bayard told the captain beside him that he might lead
off his men now that the town was won, but that he should never pass from
the place again, and reckoned himself a dead man.
The knowledge that the Chevalier was severely wounded only served to make
the French captains press on the assault with greater fury, and they fought
their way into the public place, or square, where they killed many of the
Venetians, and obliged the others to lay down their arms. The good knight
was left with two of his archers, who tried to staunch the blood that
flowed from his wounds. When they saw that all the strongholds in the town
were gained, they sought around until they found a wooden plank, or door,
and on this they carried him into the best looking house they could see.
This house belonged to an Italian gentleman, who not very courageously had
fled for safety to a monastery, and had left his wife and daughters in the
town. The archers knocked at the door, and were allowed to carry in their
burden, and they afterwards stationed themselves outside to prevent the
enemy from entering. The Italian lady received Bayard very kindly; she was
grieved to see him suffering so much, and went herself with one of the
archers to fetch a good surgeon to dress his wound.
It was nearly five weeks before he could rise from his bed, and during that
time he had sent his _maitre d'hotel_ to seek for the lady's husband, so
that the whole family might live happily together under his protection,
their house being the only one in Brescia that was neither sacked nor
pillaged. And he said afterwards that although he had endured the greatest
pain from his wound, he had never once been unhappy, because he had been
with friends; it only vexed him to think that the French were getting
nearer the Spaniards every day, and that a battle would soon take place, in
which he would not be able to assist; and he used to tell the Duke de
Nemours, who came daily to see him whilst he remained in the town, because
he loved him so much, that he would rather be borne to the battle-field in
a litter than not be present at all. For it was the great object of the
king of France to drive the Spaniards out of Lombardy, since he knew that
as long as they were roving about in Italy, his duchy of Milan would never
be secure.
One day Bayard found, to his joyful surprise, that he could walk once more,
and his surgeon gave him leave to start at the expiration of two days for
the French camp. According to the custom of the victorious French, the
whole family were in reality the prisoners of Bayard, and the Italian lady
was in great trouble of mind, thinking that he would demand at least ten
or twelve thousand crowns for their ransom, which was more than they were
able to pay. So on the morning of the day when the good knight was to
depart after dinner, she came to him, and knelt down before him. Bayard
would not suffer her to kneel, so rising, she presented him with a purse
which contained 1,500 ducats. When she had opened it, he laughed: "How many
are there, madam?" he asked. The lady thought that he was laughing because
there were so few, and began to make excuses; but when the Chevalier found
out that she wanted to pay her ransom, he declared that he would take
nothing from her at all; that the welcome she had given him was worth more
than a hundred thousand crowns, and that he should feel himself bound in
gratitude to serve her until the end of his days. It was so unusual for the
French to release their prisoners without a ransom that the Italian lady
was deeply moved; she went down on her knees, and kissing the hand of the
good knight, she said, "Flower of chivalry, may the Lord reward you for
what you have done!" She pressed him so hard however to accept the purse
that Bayard consented to take it out of esteem and respect for her, and her
two daughters then came to bid him farewell. The damsels were very
beautiful; they were skilled in embroidery, and could sing and play the
lute and spinet, and many a time the Chevalier, as he lay writhing in pain,
had been cheered by their music. When they came in, they too would have
knelt to thank him for his kindness and protection, but he made them rise,
and dividing the ducats into three parts, he gave each of them a thousand
for a marriage portion, and the five hundred that remained he gave to
their mother for the relief of the religious houses in Brescia, which had
been plundered by the French. The maidens now produced the parting gifts
they had prepared; the Chevalier received them very graciously, and said
that he should wear them as long as he lived; one was a bracelet made of
gold and silver thread, and the other a purse of crimson worked in gold.
Then they all touched hands after the fashion of Italy, and the good knight
bade them farewell kneeling, and they all wept bitterly when he rode away
from the door, they were so grieved to think they should never see him
again.
When Bayard reached the camp of the Duke de Nemours, he found that his
countrymen had arrived only that day before Ravenna, and that the enemy
were six miles off, but the next day they came nearer by two miles. The
night but one before the famous battle of Ravenna, several captains were at
supper with the Duke de Nemours, talking the while of the contest which was
so soon to take place. Bayard was amongst the guests, and the Duke told him
that as the Spaniards had a great respect for his talents, and were very
anxious to know if he were in the camp, he thought it would be advisable
for him to attempt some skirmish with them the next day, just to see how
well they could fight. The good knight was delighted with the idea;
"Monseigneur," he replied, "I promise you on my word of honour that, God
helping, I shall see them so close before noon, that I shall be able to
bring you news."
Now the Baron of Bearne, the Duke's lieutenant, coveted the glory of being
the first to attack the enemy, and although the Chevalier was known to
rise very early in the morning, he thought that he would rise earlier
still, and thus steal a march upon him. So as soon as soon as the supper
was ended, he went to tell all his followers to be ready armed before break
of day, charging them also to keep the matter a profound secret.
When the good knight returned to his tent, he also arranged with some of
the chief captains how the attack should be made, and then, they all went
to rest until the trumpet should sound to awaken them at dawn.
It was very early the next morning when they set out, carrying with them
the banners of the Duke of Lorraine unfurled, in the hope that they would
bring them good luck. They did not, of course, know that the Baron of
Bearne had already gone the same path; but the sound of weapons clashing,
and of horses' hoofs, soon fell upon their ears; the baron had indeed
crossed the canal which lay between the two armies, and had advanced to the
enemy's camp; but he had been discomfited, and was forced to retire.
When Bayard saw that Neapolitans and Spaniards were boldly crossing the
canal in pursuit of the fugitives, he called to his comrades to fly to the
aid of their countrymen, and rushed before any into the midst of a troop of
one hundred and twenty men. His comrades loved him too well not to follow
him, and he chased the enemy back right into the camp, and overthrew there
numbers of their tents, although the Spaniards were all astir and ready for
battle. When he thought he had aroused them sufficiently, he sounded the
trumpet for a retreat, and arrived in the camp of the Duke de Nemours with
the news he had promised to bring him, but without having lost a single
man.
The Duke now assembled all the captains and knights, and told them, that
his uncle the king desired that a battle should take place at once, because
he had heard that the Venetians and Swiss were about to descend into the
Duchy of Milan; and it was agreed that the French army should pass the
bridge of boats across the canal, and attack the enemy on the morrow.
The next morning the Duke came out of his tent at sunrise. "Look,
gentlemen!" he said to his companions, "how red the sun is!" And one of
them, who was much beloved by him, replied, "Do you know, Monseigneur, what
that signifies? That a great captain will fall to-day: it will be either
you or Cardonna, the viceroy." The duke only laughed at his remark, and
went to watch the army passing the bridge with Bayard and some other
knights, while the Spaniards, in great alarm, hastened to put the whole of
their troops in battle array.
Just as the duke was telling the good knight, that they might fall an easy
prey to their enemies, if any harquebussiers were concealed thereabouts, a
body of from twenty to thirty Spaniards appeared, amongst whom was Pedro de
Pas. Bayard was the first to speak. "Gentlemen," said he, "you will linger
about here like ourselves until the play begins. I entreat that not a
harquebuss be fired on your part, and we will not fire upon you." Pedro de
Pas then asked the name of the knight who had spoken, and was overjoyed to
find that he was really in the company of the Chevalier du Bayard, who had
gained so much renown in Naples.
The Duke de Nemours was a merciful man, and he offered to settle the
quarrel by single combat with the viceroy, to spare the effusion of blood.
His followers, however, thought that the risk was too great; and the army
having crossed the canal by eight o'clock in the morning, the battle began.
It lasted many hours, and was very terrible on both sides; and although the
Spaniards were defeated, the French bought their victory very dearly, with
the life of their brave and good young prince, Gaston of Nemours. For the
prediction of his friend had indeed been fulfilled, and he lay among the
slain! The good knight fought all through that long battle like a hero; he
had gone in pursuit of the enemy, and came back to the field late in the
afternoon, to find that the duke was dead.
A short time after this, the Venetians, the Swiss, and the army sent by the
Pope pressed forward, and the French were soon obliged to retire out of
Lombardy, only leaving garrisons in some of the strong castles. At Pavia,
Bayard made himself very famous by defending a bridge of boats, during two
hours against the Swiss; he had two horses killed under him, and received a
severe wound in the shoulder before he would give way. His companions
thought that his wound was mortal, though he declared it was nothing, and
they staunched it with moss, which they tore off the stems of trees, and
with linen which they tore from their shirts. The good knight did not
recover for a very long time after the French army had recrossed the
mountains, and he went to his uncle the Bishop of Grenoble, in whose
palace he was lodged and watched over, "like the precious stone set in pure
gold." And he was so ill that he thought to his sorrow that he should die
in his bed, instead of closing his eyes for ever on the battle-field; but
all the people of Grenoble prayed for him--his good uncle, nobles,
merchants, monks, and nuns; there was not a voice that did not rise up in
prayer to the Almighty for his recovery. And after a long while his
strength and spirit returned to him, and he remained some months at
Grenoble, greatly honoured for all the brave deeds he had achieved.
In the battle of Guinegatte, commonly called the battle of the Spurs, from
the speed with which the French soldiers took flight, the Chevalier was
made prisoner, but not until he had saved his countrymen from entire
disgrace by his valour. Henry the Eighth was then at war with France, and
Maximilian, Emperor of Germany, was serving in the army of the English
monarch for the pay of a hundred crowns a day.
Before Henry and Maximilian had arrived in the English camp, the Earl of
Shrewsbury had begun the siege of Perouane, a town on the borders of
Picardy, close by Guinegatte. The besieged had defended themselves bravely,
and the governor of the province had succeeded in forcing his way through
the English camp, to bring them a large supply of bacon and gunpowder. He
had got safely back again, when the French horsemen, who had advanced to
protect him, were attacked suddenly by a body of English, whilst they were
straying carelessly about without their helmets and cuirasses, because
they were overpowered by the intense heat of the day. Thus it was that they
took flight, and that several noblemen amongst them of high rank were made
prisoners. Bayard retreated with great regret; he had only fourteen
men-at-arms with him, and yet he often turned back and faced his enemies.
At last they came to a little bridge, where only two horsemen could pass at
a time, and below it there was a deep ditch full of water. The good knight
then sent word to the camp, by an archer that he had arrested the enemy for
at least half an hour, and that delay, would give the army time to get into
order. The archer went straight to the camp, and Bayard was left with his
few men to guard the bridge. He was soon surrounded on all sides, and
advised his people to surrender; and when they were all secured, he rode
towards an English gentleman, who, either wearied with the fight or
oppressed by the heat, was resting beneath a tree. Bayard put his sword to
his throat, and exclaimed, "Surrender, man-at-arms, or you are a dead man!"
The gentleman, naturally wishing to save his life, surrendered, and asked
the stranger who he was. "I am the Captain Bayard," replied the knight,
"and now I surrender to you, and give you my sword to hold, and entreat you
to conduct me to some place of safety, and to have the kindness to let me
have my sword, if we meet with any Englishmen on our way, who may desire to
kill me." The gentleman promised this, and they set off for the camp of
King Henry, and had really to defend themselves more than once, upon the
road thither.
Bayard remained in the tent of his prisoner, who treated him well, but on
the fifth day of his captivity, he said to him, "My gentleman, I wish you
would lead me in safety to the camp of the king, my master, for I am
utterly tired of being here."
"How?" cried the other. "We have not yet agreed as to your ransom."
"To my ransom, indeed!" said the knight; "but it is rather for me to think
of yours, since you are my prisoner; and if I surrendered to you it was
only to save my life. My gentleman," continued he, "whether faith is kept
with me, or not, I feel assured that in some way I shall fight with you by
and by."
The gentleman did not quite relish the idea of a combat with the
redoubtable Bayard, so he replied in courteous terms, that he only wished
to do what was right in the affair, and would consult with his captains.
When the enemy knew that Bayard was safe in the camp, they were as much
pleased as if they had won another victory. The Emperor of Germany sent for
him to his tent.
"Captain Bayard, my friend," said he, "I have great pleasure in seeing you.
Would that I had many men like you! I think in a little while I should be
able to avenge myself of all the tricks, your master has played me in times
gone by." Presently, he said to him, "Methinks we have been at war together
before, and I remember to have heard that Bayard was one who never fled."
"Sire," replied the Good Knight promptly, "if I had fled I should not have
been here."
Then bluff King Harry came up and said, "Truly, Monsieur de Bayard, if all
men were like you, the siege which I have begun before this town, would
soon be raised; but any way you are my prisoner."
"Sire," answered the Chevalier, "I do not own it, and yet I would fain
believe yourself and the emperor."