CALAIS
Calais was a petty fishing village in the tenth century, and its first
appearance in the annals of history was when Baldwin the Fourth, Count
of Flanders, took it under his fostering care and its earliest
fortifications were built.
Perceiving its natural advantages, Philip of France, Count of Boulogne,
took serious steps for its defence. A citadel was built, forts were
erected, a lofty watch-tower was constructed on the bastion fronting the
sea, which for centuries was the chief light-house of Calais. The town
was encircled by strong walls, deep moats were constructed, every art
known to the engineers of that age was employed, and the town was
thought to be impregnable.
King Edward the Third captured it after the great battle of Crécy, and
it took that warlike monarch eleven months ere he became master of the
town, chiefly aided by the grim necessities of famine. It became an
English town, and for two hundred years it had resisted the repeated
efforts of France to reconquer it. The English rebuilt the cathedral of
Notre Dame, whose lofty tower served as a landmark for sailors. When the
sovereigns of England and France met on the "Field of the Cloth of
Gold," much money was spent on the town by the English.
Wolsey's keen eye marked the decrepitude of its walls, and he spent
twenty thousand crowns in strengthening them. Yet vague rumours had
lately gone abroad that its fortifications were tottering to a fall,
undermined by the action of the sea; that the ancient artillery which
defended its walls was but a vain show, and that its garrison of eight
hundred men was not only inadequate, but it was untrustworthy from a
military point of view. It had become a kind of depôt for old soldiers,
ill watch was kept, and loose discipline was maintained.
Alarmed by the reports which the Bishop of Acqs had conveyed to the
French Government (all of which were known by him), Philip took serious
alarm. In hot haste he laid these matters before the English Government,
only to find his reports to be received with the utmost incredulity. The
two hundred years of almost quiet possession had begotten a fatal sense
of security on the part of the English.
Again Philip sent to Cardinal Pole, who was the Queen's chief adviser,
offering to garrison Calais with Spaniards at his own expense; but this
offer was received coldly by the English Government, whose suspicion of
the Spaniard, and of Philip himself especially, reigned supreme. Then
Philip suggested a greatly increased garrison, of which one half should
be English and the other Spanish. The offer was refused.
It was under these circumstances that the King had sent Geoffrey,
William and Ralph to make a secret inspection of the town and its
garrison. Their report was to be given to Cardinal Pole himself. Philip
knew that these three young Englishmen were favourably known to the
Cardinal, and that his eminence would feel sure that their testimony
would be disinterested and reliable.
It was under these circumstances that Geoffrey and his companions landed
at Calais on a fine September evening in the year 1557. The approach of
their boat had been perceived from the watch-tower, and as it grated on
the shore a company of armed men waited to receive them. The uniforms of
the young men gave assurance to the captain of the guard, he recognized
the blue accoutrements of the English contingent, now serving with King
Philip. It was therefore with the utmost courtesy and with military
salute that Captain Lascelles advanced towards the visitors and asked to
be allowed to inspect their papers.
"We come from St. Quentin as direct envoys from the King to Lord
Wentworth, the Governor of Calais," replied Geoffrey. "May we ask you to
conduct us to him?" he continued.
"Whom have I the honour to address?" inquired the Captain.
"Geoffrey de Fynes, William Jefferay, Ralph Jefferay, aides-de-camp to
Lord Clinton, second in command of the English contingent serving in
France," replied Geoffrey.
Captain Lascelles bowed low.
"I will conduct you to the Governor's lodgings in the citadel
forthwith," he replied; "but I fear you will not see Lord Wentworth to-
night, he is entertaining the officers of the garrison to supper."
"We thank you for your courtesy, sir," replied Geoffrey; and the Captain
leading the way the party ascended to the citadel which overlooked the
little town.
Through narrow, ill-paved streets, dimly lit, they proceeded in silence
till the plateau was reached which fronted the gloomy old citadel.
The Captain gave the password at the gates, then he called for Lord
Wentworth's major-domo, with whom he held a brief consultation apart.
Then turning to Geoffrey, he said—
"The Castle is very full of guests to-night, yet the major-domo can give
you 'soldiers' quarters' if you will deign to accept so humble a
lodging."
"We are soldiers," replied Geoffrey cheerfully, "we ask for nothing
better."
Forthwith the official led them through a long vaulted passage, lit with
oil lamps, from which they emerged into a large low vaulted room,
roughly but sufficiently furnished with tables and wooden benches. A
great fire-place occupied one end of the room, and a quantity of
firewood lay on the hearth waiting to be kindled.
Three stone-mullioned windows gave light and air, and from them the
twinkling lights of the town could be perceived as it stretched itself
out below them. Cressets hung from the walls, and into one of them the
major-domo thrust the blazing torch he had been carrying.
"By my faith I am sorry to give you so poor a lodging," said Captain
Lascelles; "but to-morrow the major-domo will be able to do something
better for you. Beyond this room there lies another exactly like it, but
furnished with truckle-beds, which shall be provided with fresh and
clean linen and blankets for you. And now, gentlemen," he continued,
"may I suggest that you come to my quarters in the Castle, which, poor
as they are, present a few more comforts than this cold stone room.
Meanwhile, your varlets can light your fires and help the major-domo to
lay your supper—what say you?"
The offer was so kindly made and evidently so well meant, that Geoffrey
at once answered—
"Most willingly, sir, and we are greatly your debtors. Meanwhile," he
added, "I have a letter from Lord Clinton to the Governor, will you
kindly see that it reaches his hand to-night; the royal mandate from
King Philip I must deliver to his Lordship myself."
"It shall be done," said Captain Lascelles; "and now, if it please you,
I beg you to follow me."
A few steps brought them to the courtyard, and crossing it the Captain
led the way to a flight of stone steps on the southern side. Ascending
these the party found themselves in front of a strong, heavy door, on
which Captain Lascelles rapped loudly.
A soldier speedily answered the summons and led the way to his master's
quarters, holding aloft a flaming torch. It was a stone-built room, even
the floor was stone, like every other chamber in that ancient citadel,
but in every other respect it was luxuriously furnished. Glittering
designs in daggers and poniards of every age adorned the walls, which
were covered with rich tapestries, soft couches and divans invited to
repose, curiously carved tables and chairs testified to the taste and
elegance of the young Captain of the guard.
"Be seated, gentlemen," cried Lascelles, as he sounded a gong and bade
his servants bring wine and refreshment.
"But are we not keeping you from the Governor's hospitable table?" said
Geoffrey, as the sounds of arriving guests ascended from the courtyard.
"Nay," said the Captain, with a laugh; "I am on duty to-night."
"Then, in that case, I pray that you will not let us burden you with our
company," replied Geoffrey.
"I am free for an hour," replied Lascelles; "De Courcy, my lieutenant,
takes my place."
So they sat down while rich wines were being poured into silver goblets
and toasts were drunk. Lascelles would fain know all the recent military
news from St. Quentin, of which the world knew little as yet. He was
eager to hear of the King's present position and his schemes for the
future. On many such points Geoffrey was able and willing to give
information; on others he preserved a discreet silence, as became a
King's envoy sent on a secret mission.
Thus an hour flew rapidly by, and then Geoffrey, pleading fatigue,
obtained his host's permission to withdraw to the quarters assigned to
them. There they found bright fires burning, and a substantial meal had
been provided by the major-domo, with wines for the gentlemen and small-
beer for the varlets.
The evening was speeding on, and the Englishmen were about to retire to
their truckle-beds, when an unlooked-for intervention occurred. There
was a knock at the door, then it was thrown open and a young aide-de-
camp, richly dressed, stepped into the room with the words—
"May it please you, gentlemen, his Excellency the Governor!" and
therewith the Earl of Wentworth appeared on the threshold.
He was splendidly dressed, as became a great noble. He had left his
guests for a brief space, and so was in all the rich attire of the
banqueting-room. Bowing courteously to the young men, he besought them
to take their seats, as he sat down on one of the rough chairs of the
guard-room. Turning to his aide-de-camp the Governor said—
"Descend to the courtyard and wait there for me, take with you the three
grooms, and let no man disturb us."
The envoys were left alone with the Earl.
Lord Wentworth was an elderly man of grave and even majestic mien. As
"Lord of the Marches" he had seen much service in the Border warfare
between England and Scotland; he had only recently been appointed to the
Governorship of Calais. In quiet and easy tones he addressed the envoys.
"Lord Clinton's letter has just reached my hands," he said, "and in it
he tells me that you are the bearers of a royal mandate for me from King
Philip. He tells me that the matter is urgent, and that must be my
excuse for disturbing you at this late hour of the night. I crave your
pardon therein. I shall be glad to read the mandate ere I retire to
rest."
Geoffrey at once arose, bowed low, and presented the royal document.
"I thank you, young sir," said the Earl. "To-morrow morning at nine
o'clock I ask your company to breakfast, there is much that you can tell
me which I am very desirous to hear, for Lord Clinton tells me that you
come direct from St. Quentin. And now I will not detain you from your
rest, you have travelled far and must needs be fatigued. And so good-
night, gentlemen!"
And therewith the Earl, attended by Geoffrey, who carried a torch,
descended to the courtyard. Ere the Governor quitted his young
companion, he said—
"I gather from Lord Clinton's letter that one of you three gentlemen is
Geoffrey de Fynes—are you he?"
"Yes, your Lordship," replied Geoffrey.
"Then you are of the family of the 'Dacres of the South,' I presume,"
said the Earl. "I have known the 'Dacres of the North' all my life and I
have been honoured by their friendship."
Then the Earl shook hands warmly with Geoffrey.
"I am glad to know you, sir, and to welcome you to this town of Calais,
of which your grandfather was Governor in the famous year of 'The Field
of the Cloth of Gold,' unless I err?"
Geoffrey bowed acquiescence, and the interview came to an end.
Soon the six weary travellers sought their truckle-beds and found solace
in sleep.
--------------
The morning had come, the Earl and his three young guests had
breakfasted in the great hall of the Castle. The servants had been
dismissed and the gentlemen sat alone.
"Last night," said the Earl to them, "I read King Philip's letter, and I
gather from it that he wishes me to allow you three gentlemen to make a
thorough, but informal, inspection of the fortifications and the
garrison of Calais. You will carry your report to Cardinal Pole, and the
King earnestly hopes that the English Government will remedy whatsoever
may be lacking here. His Majesty's wishes are commands to me, and they
shall be willingly obeyed. Indeed, I am heartily glad to have this new
opportunity of laying our needs before the Government, to whom I have
written many letters and sent many messengers in vain. The King is
rightly informed respecting the condition of matters here; it is true we
need more men, more guns, and a greater supply of ammunition, and our
walls are crumbling into ruin in many important points. Yet I do not
fear any foe, nor do I believe that Calais can fall. I held Berwick
Castle against all the power of Scotland, with a smaller garrison and
with poorer means of defence!
"But now we will go forth and you shall see for yourselves how matters
stand with us. First, we will inspect the Castle itself, and I will show
you our magazines. And we go unattended, remembering that your mission
is a secret one. The garrison is being drilled in the great courtyard at
this moment. You shall see the men under arms."
The Governor had ordered a full muster this morning, and the courtyard
presented a scene full of life and animation when the whole garrison
presented arms as the Earl and his guests made their appearance.
The envoys passed between the lines and closely inspected the men and
their equipment. The review was soon completed, and the men went to
their quarters with a great beating of drums and blowing of trumpets.
"What think you of them?" asked the Governor, as he and his guests moved
on to the bastions.
The envoys consulted together for a brief space, and then Geoffrey, as
spokesman, gave their opinion.
"The men were gallant English soldiers, but they were chiefly old men,
some of them surely past the usual age for men on service. Their weapons
were older still, and the arquebusiers were astonishingly few in
number," such was their verdict.
The Governor sighed as he admitted that the criticism was just, and he
now proceeded to lead the party to the Castle wall.
Many of the great guns were so old that it would be dangerous to use
them; one wondrous piece of artillery dated back to the days of Crécy.
"But others are on their way hither," the Governor explained. "They were
at Dover waiting for shipment," according to his latest information.
Then a circuit of the fortifications was made, and it was all too
evident that many towers were crumbling to ruin.
Later in the day the Governor took his guests to the outer walls of the
town, the bulwarks of Froyton and Neslé were visited, Newhaven Bridge
(as it was somewhat curiously named) was traversed, and they inspected
the Risbank and the great moats. These moats formed a vital point in the
defence of Calais, should the day of trial come, yet were so ill cared
for that some were dry, and in others the water was so shallow that
great mudbanks displayed themselves in their midst.
It was with saddened hearts that the envoys returned to the Castle,
having inspected the sea walls and the surrounding country as far as
Guisnes and Hames.
--------------
The night had fallen, the great gates of the Castle were closed and the
watches were set.
The envoys were the guests of the Governor, and they sat at supper in
the great hall. This was the noblest room in the Castle, it had been
built by King Henry the Fifth, and it was a worthy trophy of the Warrior
King. Its lofty roof towered above them, dimly seen by the light of the
great lanterns which hung upon the walls. On festive nights the iron
cressets, suspended at intervals between the lanterns, were filled with
blazing torches, and over the "high table" hung handsome candelabra,
which on rare occasions glittered with the light of hundreds of wax
candles. But this was a "low night," and the daïs was illuminated by
lanterns only.
"So to-morrow you leave us," said the Governor, as the supper being
finished they sat over their wine. "I am sorry that you cannot prolong
your stay, for I would fain have seen more of you, but I know it is
impossible. I will not ask you aught respecting your report to the
Cardinal, but I can divine what it will be. You tell me that the English
contingent are clamouring for their return home: ask him to send me but
a thousand of those gallant men and I will pledge my honour that in
Calais the flag of St. George will never give place to the lilies of
France! But above all things let the help, whatever it may be, come
quickly. I have forgotten what little Latin I ever knew, but there is an
old tag which I learnt at Carlisle Grammar School which dwells in my
memory: _Bis dat qui cito dat!_"
The young men were much moved as the veteran soldier talked.
"God grant that the Cardinal may listen to us, and that the Government
will heed him," said Ralph.
"But the Cardinal _is_ the Government, for at this moment he rules
supreme in the council, and the Queen relies implicitly upon his
advice," replied the Governor. "Persuade him and the thing is
accomplished. Calais will stand for another two hundred years as the
brightest gem in the English crown—Heaven grant it!"
"But meanwhile," interposed Ralph again, "meanwhile, _if Guise come_?"
"Our latest advice is that Guise will _not_ come," answered the
Governor; "he has joined De Nevers and their combined armies are moving
into Picardy: all men say that France will make a desperate effort to
reconquer St. Quentin—and will make it soon."
"It is the unexpected which happens," said Geoffrey.
So they talked till the hour grew late and it was time to retire. This
night they were to occupy the "Guest chamber" in the Governor's lodging.
"To-morrow, then," said the Earl, as he bade them a good-night, "to-
morrow the tide serves at ten in the morning, and I have ordered a swift
fly-boat to be ready for you at the quay at that hour. And now good-
night, good-night!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------