During the wars of the French in the Milanese, in the reign of Louis
XII., the Chevalier Bayard fell in with an Italian party in the
neighbourhood of Milan, and attacked it warmly. On his arriving at
the gates of Milan, a French gendarme cried out to him with a loud
voice, “Turn, man-at-arms, turn!” Bayard, transported by the desire of
conquering, was deaf to these repeated cries, and entered the city at
full gallop, as if, says an historian, he meant to take that capital
alone. Soldiers, people, even women, fell upon him. Cajazzo, whom his
valour astonished, ordered his men-at-arms to cover him from these
assaults, and made him his prisoner. He took him to his own house, and
afterwards to sup with the duke of Milan. Ludovic, who had witnessed
the extraordinary feats of the Chevalier from his palace windows,
spoke of the brave Frenchman with great admiration, and with a view
of ascertaining his character, conversed freely with him. “My brave
gentleman,” said the duke, “what brought you hither?” “The desire of
conquering, my lord,” replied Bayard. “And pray did you think of taking
Milan alone?” “No,” rejoined the knight, “but I reckoned upon being
followed by my companions.” “They and you together,” said Ludovic,
“could not do it.” “Well,” said Bayard, with his characteristic
frankness, “I must admit they are wiser than I have been; they are
free, and I am a prisoner, although to one of the bravest and most
generous of men.” The prince then asked him, with an air of disdain,
“What is the strength of the French army?” “For our parts,” replied
Bayard, “we never think of counting our enemies; but what I can assure
you is, that my master’s soldiers are all picked men, before whom
yours will have no chance.” Ludovic, very much piqued, replied that
effects gave a very different idea of his troops, and that a battle
would soon proclaim both his right and their courage. “Would to God,”
cried Bayard, “that it were to-morrow, and I were free!” “You are
free,” replied the prince; “I like your frankness and your courage,
and, to the first benefit, I beg to add whatever you desire.” Bayard,
penetrated with so much kindness, threw himself on his knees before the
duke, and begged him to pardon, in favour of his duty, all that might
have appeared too bold in his speech. He then requested to have his
horse and his arms, and returned to the French camp, to give a highly
favourable account of the generosity of Ludovic.