CHAPTER VII.

THE LANDING OF LORD WARWICK, AND THE EVENTS THAT ENSUE THEREON.

And Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, "prepared such a greate navie

as lightly hath not been seene before gathered in manner of all

nations, which armie laie at the mouth of the Seyne ready to fight

with the Earl of Warwick, when he should set out of his harborowe."

[Hall, p. 282, ed. 1809.]

But the winds fought for the Avenger. In the night came "a terrible

tempest," which scattered the duke's ships "one from another, so that

two of them were not in compagnie together in one place;" and when the

tempest had done its work, it passed away; and the gales were fair,

and the heaven was clear, when, the next day, the earl "halsed up the

sayles," and came in sight of Dartmouth.

It was not with an army of foreign hirelings that Lord Warwick set

forth on his mighty enterprise. Scanty indeed were the troops he

brought from France,--for he had learned from England that "men so

much daily and hourely desired and wished so sore his arrival and

return, that almost all men were in harness, looking for his landyng."

[The popular feeling in favour of the earl is described by Hall, with

somewhat more eloquence and vigour than are common with that homely

chronicler: "The absence of the Earle of Warwick made the common

people daily more and more to long and bee desirous to have the sight

of him, and presently to behold his personage. For they judged that

the sunne was clerely taken from the world when hee was absent. In

such high estimation amongst the people was his name, that neither no

one manne they had in so much honour, neither no one persone they so

much praised, or to the clouds so highly extolled. What shall I say?

His only name sounded in every song, in the mouth of the common

people, and his persone [effigies] was represented with great

reverence when publique plaies or open triumphes should bee skewed or

set furthe abrode in the stretes," etc. This lively passage, if not

too highly coloured, serves to show us the rude saturnalian kind of

liberty that existed, even under a king so vindictive as Edward IV.

Though an individual might be banged for the jest that he would make

his son heir to the crown (namely, the grocer's shop, which bore that

sign), yet no tyranny could deal with the sentiment of the masses. In

our own day it would be less safe than in that to make public

exhibition "in plaies and triumphes" of sympathy with a man attainted

as a traitor, and in open rebellion to the crown.] As his ships

neared the coast, and the banner of the Ragged Staff, worked in gold,

shone in the sun, the shores swarmed with armed crowds, not to resist

but to welcome. From cliff to cliff, wide and far, blazed rejoicing

bonfires; and from cliff to cliff, wide and far, burst the shout,

when, first of all his men, bareheaded, but, save the burgonet, in

complete mail, the popular hero leaped to shore.

"When the earl had taken land, he made a proclamation, in the name of

King Henry VI., upon high paynes commanding and charging all men apt

or able to bear armour, to prepare themselves to fight against Edward,

Duke of York, who had untruly usurped the croune and dignity of this

realm." [Hall, p. 82.]

And where was Edward? Afar, following the forces of Fitzhugh and

Robin of Redesdale, who by artful retreat drew him farther and farther

northward, and left all the other quarters of the kingdom free to send

their thousands to the banners of Lancaster and Warwick. And even as

the news of the earl's landing reached the king, it spread also

through all the towns of the North; and all the towns of the North

were in "a great rore, and made fires, and sang songs, crying, 'King

Henry! King Henry! a Warwicke! a Warwicke!'" But his warlike and

presumptuous spirit forsook not the chief of that bloody and fatal

race,--the line of the English Pelops,--"bespattered with kindred

gore." [Aeschylus: Agamemnon] A messenger from Burgundy was in his

tent when the news reached him. "Back to the duke!" cried Edward;

"tell him to recollect his navy, guard the sea, scour the streams,

that the earl shall not escape, nor return to France; for the doings

in England, let me alone! I have ability and puissance to overcome

all enemies and rebels in mine own realm." [Hall, p. 283.]

And therewith he raised his camp, abandoned the pursuit of Fitzhugh,

summoned Montagu to join him (it being now safer to hold the marquis

near him, and near the axe, if his loyalty became suspected), and

marched on to meet the earl. Nor did the earl tarry from the

encounter. His army, swelling as he passed, and as men read his

proclamations to reform all grievances and right all wrongs, he

pressed on to meet the king, while fast and fast upon Edward's rear

came the troops of Fitzhugh and Hilyard, no longer flying but

pursuing. The king was the more anxious to come up to Warwick,

inasmuch as he relied greatly upon the treachery of Clarence, either

secretly to betray or openly to desert the earl. And he knew that if

he did the latter on the eve of a battle, it could not fail morally to

weaken Warwick, and dishearten his army by fear that desertion should

prove, as it ever does, the most contagious disease that can afflict a

camp. It is probable, however, that the enthusiasm which had

surrounded the earl with volunteers so numerous had far exceeded the

anticipations of the inexperienced Clarence, and would have forbid him

that opportunity of betraying the earl. However this be, the rival

armies drew nearer and nearer. The king halted in his rapid march at

a small village, and took up his quarters in a fortified house, to

which there was no access but by a single bridge. [Sharon Turner,

Comines.] Edward himself retired for a short time to his couch, for

he had need of all his strength in the battle he foresaw; but scarce

had he closed his eyes, when Alexander Carlile [Hearne: Fragment], the

serjeant of the royal minstrels, followed by Hastings and Rivers

(their jealousy laid at rest for a time in the sense of their king's

danger), rushed into his room.

"Arm, sire, arm!--Lord Montagu has thrown off the mask, and rides

through thy troops, shouting 'Long live King Henry!'"

"Ah, traitor!" cried the king, leaping from his bed. "From Warwick

hate was my due, but not from Montagu! Rivers, help to buckle on my

mail. Hastings, post my body-guard at the bridge. We will sell our

lives dear."

Hastings vanished. Edward had scarcely hurried on his helm, cuirass,

and greaves, when Gloucester entered, calm in the midst of peril.

"Your enemies are marching to seize you, brother. Hark! behind you

rings the cry, 'A Fitzhugh! a Robin! death to the tyrant!' Hark! in

front, 'A Montagu! a Warwick! Long live King Henry!' I come to

redeem my word,--to share your exile or your death. Choose either

while there is yet time. Thy choice is mine!"

And while he spoke, behind, before, came the various cries nearer and

nearer. The lion of March was in the toils.

"Now, my two-handed sword!" said Edward. "Gloucester, in this weapon

learn my choice!"

But now all the principal barons and captains, still true to the king

whose crown was already lost, flocked in a body to the chamber. They

fell on their knees, and with tears implored him to save himself for a

happier day.

"There is yet time to escape," said D'Eyncourt, "to pass the bridge,

to gain the seaport! Think not that a soldier's death will be left

thee. Numbers will suffice to encumber thine arm, to seize thy

person. Live not to be Warwick's prisoner,--shown as a wild beast in

its cage to the hooting crowd!"

"If not on thyself," exclaimed Rivers, "have pity on these loyal

gentlemen, and for the sake of their lives preserve thine own. What

is flight? Warwick fled!"

"True,--and returned!" added Gloucester. "You are right, my lords.

Come, sire, we must fly. Our rights fly not with us, but shall fight

for us in absence!"

The calm WILL of this strange and terrible boy had its effect upon

Edward. He suffered his brother to lead him from the chamber,

grinding his teeth in impotent rage. He mounted his horse, while

Rivers held the stirrup, and with some six or seven knights and earls

rode to the bridge, already occupied by Hastings and a small but

determined guard.

"Come, Hastings," said the king, with a ghastly smile,--"they tell us

we must fly!"

"True, sire, haste, haste! I stay but to deceive the enemy by

feigning to defend the pass, and to counsel, as I best may, the

faithful soldiers we leave behind."

"Brave Hastings!" said Gloucester, pressing his hand, "you do well,

and I envy you the glory of this post. Come, sire."

"Ay, ay," said the king, with a sudden and fierce cry, "we go,--but at

least slaughtering as we go. See! yon rascal troop! ride we through

their midst! Havock and revenge!"

He set spurs to his steed, galloped over the bridge, and before his

companions could join him, dashed alone into the very centre of the

advanced guard sent to invest the fortress, and while they were yet

shouting, "Where is the tyrant, where is Edward?"

"Here!" answered a voice of thunder,--"here, rebels and faytors, in

your ranks!"

This sudden and appalling reply, even more than the sweep of the

gigantic sword, before which were riven sallet and mail as the

woodman's axe rives the fagot, created amongst the enemy that singular

panic, which in those ages often scattered numbers before the arm and

the name of one. They recoiled in confusion and dismay. Many

actually threw down their arms and fled. Through a path broad and

clear amidst the forest of pikes, Gloucester and the captains followed

the flashing track of the king, over the corpses, headless or

limbless, that he felled as he rode.

Meanwhile, with a truer chivalry, Hastings, taking advantage of the

sortie which confused and delayed the enemy, summoned such of the

loyal as were left in the fortress, advised them, as the only chance

of life, to affect submission to Warwick; but when the time came, to

remember their old allegiance, [Sharon Turner, vol. iii. 280.] and

promising that he would not desert them, save with life, till their

safety was pledged by the foe, reclosed his visor, and rode back to

the front of the bridge.

And now the king and his comrades had cut their way through all

barrier, but the enemy still wavered and lagged, till suddenly the cry

of "Robin of Redesdale!" was heard, and sword in hand, Hilyard,

followed by a troop of horse, dashed to the head of the besiegers,

and, learning the king's escape, rode off in pursuit. His brief

presence and sharp rebuke reanimated the falterers, and in a few

minutes they gained the bridge.

"Halt, sirs," cried Hastings; "I would offer capitulation to your

leader! Who is he?"

A knight on horseback advanced from the rest. Hastings lowered the

point of his sword.

"Sir, we yield this fortress to your hands upon one condition,--our

men yonder are willing to submit, and shout with you for Henry VI.

Pledge me your word that you and your soldiers spare their lives and

do them no wrong, and we depart."

"And if I pledge it not?" said the knight.

"Then for every warrior who guards this bridge count ten dead men

amongst your ranks."

"Do your worst,--our bloods are up! We want life for life! revenge

for the subjects butchered by your tyrant chief! Charge! to the

attack! charge! pike and bill!" The knight spurred on, the

Lancastrians followed, and the knight reeled from his horse into the

moat below, felled by the sword of Hastings.

For several minutes the pass was so gallantly defended that the strife

seemed uncertain, though fearfully unequal, when Lord Montagu himself,

hearing what had befallen, galloped to the spot, threw down his

truncheon, cried "Hold!" and the slaughter ceased. To this nobleman

Hastings repeated the terms he had proposed.

"And," said Montagu, turning with anger to the Lancastrians, who

formed a detachment of Fitzhugh's force--"can Englishmen insist upon

butchering Englishmen? Rather thank we Lord Hastings that he would

spare good King Henry so many subjects' lives! The terms are granted,

my lord; and your own life also, and those of your friends around you,

vainly brave in a wrong cause. Depart!"

"Ah, Montagu," said Hastings, touched, and in a whisper, "what pity

that so gallant a gentleman should leave a rebel's blot upon his

scutcheon!"

"When chiefs and suzerains are false and perjured, Lord Hastings,"

answered Montagu, "to obey them is not loyalty, but serfdom; and

revolt is not disloyalty, but a freeman's duty. One day thou mayst

know that truth, but too late." [It was in the midst of his own

conspiracy against Richard of Gloucester that the head of Lord

Hastings fell.]

Hastings made no reply, waved his hand to his fellow-defenders of the

bridge, and, followed by them, went slowly and deliberately on, till

clear of the murmuring and sullen foe; then putting spurs to their

steeds, these faithful warriors rode fast to rejoin their king;

overtook Hilyard on the way, and after a fierce skirmish, a blow from

Hastings unhorsed and unhelmed the stalwart Robin, and left him so

stunned as to check further pursuit. They at last reached the king,

and gaining, with him and his party, the town of Lynn, happily found

one English and two Dutch vessels on the point of sailing. Without

other raiment than the mail they wore, without money, the men a few

hours before hailed as sovereign or as peers fled from their native

land as outcasts and paupers. New dangers beset them on the sea: the

ships of the Easterlings, at war both with France and England, bore

down upon their vessels. At the risk of drowning they ran ashore near

Alcmaer. The large ships of the Easterlings followed as far as the

low water would permit, "intendeing at the fludde to have obtained

their prey." [Hall.] In this extremity, the lord of the province

(Louis of Grauthuse) came aboard their vessels, protected the

fugitives from the Easterlings, conducted them to the Hague, and

apprised the Duke of Burgundy how his brother-in-law had lost his

throne. Then were verified Lord Warwick's predictions of the faith of

Burgundy! The duke for whose alliance Edward had dishonoured the man

to whom he owed his crown, so feared the victorious earl, that "he had

rather have heard of King Edward's death than of his discomfiture;"

[Hall, p. 279] and his first thought was to send an embassy to the

king-maker, praying the amity and alliance of the restored dynasty.

The Last of the Barons — Volume 10 · 第 7 / 11 章