MY ADVENTURES AT CRESSY
On that memorable day when, at Cressy, King Edward so gloriously
overcame his enemies, and the Prince of Wales so gallantly won his
spurs, I, Arthur Winram, was no inactive spectator of the conflict that
was raging and the deeds that were being wrought. Nor, so far as I was
concerned, did that day come to a close without such adventures as
give colour to life and youth, and furnish food for the memory in more
advanced life.
When the French host, with banners waving, and clarions sounding,
and crowds of peasants shouting, "Kill! kill! kill!" advanced upon
Cressy, and when the English, after sitting quietly on the grass, rose
undauntedly to meet their foes, I lost no time in mounting my steed and
taking my place among the squires and pages who surrounded the Prince
of Wales. At that time the clouds that had for hours obscured the face
of day had dispersed, and the sun, shining between the two armies,
flashed on their armour and weapons. It was a fair sight to behold,
and the eye of the prince gleamed with enthusiasm as he gazed on the
exciting spectacle.
"Now may we be thankful to God and to good St. George," exclaimed the
young hero, "that the sun at length deigns to shine on our array."
"My lord," said Sir Thomas Norwich with a smile, "that, it seems to me,
is a blessing which has been equally vouchsafed to our enemies."
"But mark you not the difference, and how much it is in our favour?"
said the prince proudly. "The sun," continued he, "is on our backs, and
in their faces; and methinks," added he, "that is a circumstance which
they can hardly deem to their advantage, and for which it becomes us to
be devoutly thankful."
Such was the conversation that took place by the prince's standard
after we mounted our horses, and almost as he uttered the last words
the battle began in earnest.
I cannot pretend to have any accurate recollection of what took place
for hours after the embattled hosts met in the shock of war. It was in
reality my first field; my blood was hot; my brain was on fire; and my
memory retains nothing beyond a vague idea of the confusion and carnage
caused by the clash of steel, the rush of war-steeds, and the flights
of arrows that darkened the air and carried destruction into the ranks
of the foemen. I believe, however, that the novelty, the excitement,
and the very terror of the scene had upon me an intoxicating influence;
and I have been told that I fought like one drunk with new wine.
As the hours sped on, however, I became more calm; and, some time
after the attempt of the Count of Alençon and the Count of Flanders
to turn the fortune of the day had ended in their fall, and the utter
discomfiture of their forces, I recovered possession of my senses
sufficiently to be aware that it was after the hour of vespers, that I
had left the battle, and that I was keenly pursuing a young warrior,
evidently of high rank, who, seeing that all hope of victory had
departed, was bent on escaping from a field which his friends had
irretrievably lost.
Even in my soberer mood I had no inclination to favour his project of
escape, and I loudly summoned him to turn and prove that he was not a
coward.
"What ho!" cried I, "turn about. You ought to be ashamed of yourself
thus to fly from a single adversary."
For a time the young warrior paid no attention to the reproaches which
I launched at him. After a time, however, he seemed to think that
it was necessary, for his honour, to give proof of his valour; and,
halting, he turned his horse's head, put his sword under his arm after
the manner of a lance, and charged me with all his might, hoping to
transfix me.
But he was disappointed. I saw my danger in an instant, and taking
my sword by the handle, and exerting all my skill and dexterity,
I contrived not only to elude the thrust of my adversary, but, in
passing, to strike his sword to the ground.
But here I lost myself. In fact, I failed to follow up my advantage
with sufficient speed, and my antagonist, springing nimbly from his
steed, ere I was aware of his purpose, repossessed himself of his
weapon, and placed himself on the defensive. My blood by this time was
again up; and I had already resolved that, if no accident intervened,
he should not depart from me on easy terms. But he, believing,
doubtless, that, as I was on the winning side, the danger of delay was
almost, if not altogether, on his, looked around with the air of one
eager to escape from a conflict likely to result in captivity.
"Frenchman," said I, "it is vain to dream of escape. We part not till
we have proved which is the better man."
"Who are you that follow me thus?" asked my adversary, apparently
astonished at my persistency.
"I am an Englishman, and page to my lord the Prince of Wales," answered
I, "and I mortally hate him whom the French call king; and as there
can, therefore, be no peace between thee, as a Frenchman, and myself, I
pray thee look to thy defence."
"In truth," replied the youth, "I am not, as you deem me, a Frenchman,
but Louis, son of the Count of Flanders, and merely fighting against
the English as an ally of the King of France."
"Louis of Flanders!" exclaimed I. "By the Holy Rood, so much the worse
for you! Ever has your sire been England's bitter foe; and it behoves
every Englishman worthy of his country, as I hold myself to be, to
avenge, on your head, the blood of Jacob von Arteveldt, who, by your
father's instigation, was barbarously murdered."
"Dog of an islander!" cried the young prince, stung to fury, and
brandishing his sword, "I cannot longer brook your insolence. Dismount,
and receive the chastisement you have provoked."
As he spoke, I leaped from my steed. Instantly our swords met, and we
engaged in hand-to-hand conflict--he attacking with all the energy
which rage could inspire, and I defending myself with the determination
inspired by the hope of making a captive almost worth his weight in
gold.
And thus on foot, and in the dusk of evening, took place a fierce
encounter, with no lookers-on save our steeds, which stood silently
by. So equally were we matched, that, for minutes, neither of us had
the slightest advantage, and the issue was doubtful in the extreme.
Fortunately, however, for me, I was now by far the cooler of the two;
and at last, not without great difficulty, I succeeded in disarming him
and bringing him to his knee. Immediately I threw myself upon him, and,
with visions of the grandeur I was to acquire from taking a prisoner
of such rank, I told him, on pain of death, to surrender, rescue or
no rescue, and awaited his answer, the nature of which I could hardly
doubt.
But, as the proverb has it, there is much between the cup and the lip.
Of this I was, on that occasion, destined to learn the whole truth by
bitter experience. At the moment I spoke the tramp of cavalry reached
my ears; and, almost ere I could turn my head, my prostrate foe uttered
a loud cry for aid, and several horsemen rode forward.
"I should know that voice," said the foremost of the party, reining up
at the distance of a few yards from the spot where I was bending over
the prince I had destined for my prisoner.
"Yes, sire, I am Louis of Flanders," cried my vanquished adversary. "I
am Louis of Flanders; and I lie here at the mercy of an English varlet."
The horseman who had already spoken, and who was no other than Philip
of Valois, turned towards those who attended him.
"Slay the varlet, and rescue my cousin of Flanders," said he in accents
of anger; and two of his companions dismounted and advanced.
It now appeared that I was doomed to instant death; and I well-nigh
gave myself up for lost. But neither my instinctive sagacity nor my
mother wit deserted me. Quick as thought, my resolution was taken.
"Hold!" shouted I loudly and menacingly. "Beware, and be not rash, but
listen."
The two men, whose mission was to kill me, stayed their steps, and the
others forming Philip's escort were silent.
"Mark," continued I, seeing that I was attended to, and feeling hope
revive, "my knee is on this young lord's breast; of my hands, one is
on his neck, and in the other is a dagger, the point of which touches
his throat."
"It is true," cried the Flemish prince in great alarm, a feeling which
I took care should not diminish.
"You may kill me, doubtless," added I slowly and sternly, "but not
until I have sacrificed a victim. Advance a step farther, and this
young lord dies on the instant."
I looked my enemies in the face, and, as well as I could perceive by
the dim light, had no reason utterly to despair. My presence of mind
had saved me, for the moment at least. The two men stood still, and,
a brief conference having taken place among the party on horseback, a
cavalier advanced.
"Sir page," said he, "relax your grasp, and permit the young prince to
rise, and you shall not be exposed to injury in life or limb."
"No," exclaimed I sternly. "He rises not till I am assured of life and
liberty."
"I assure you that you shall be unharmed," was the reply; "and as for
your liberty, we must, as a matter of prudence, keep you with us for
the time being; but I promise that, within as short a space of time as
consists with policy, you will be restored to freedom."
I hesitated.
"And whose word have I for such conditions being fulfilled?" asked I,
after a pause, and not without curiosity.
"You have my word," answered the cavalier; "and I am John of Hainault,
whose name is not unknown in England."
I, with difficulty, curbed my tongue, and suppressed the reply that
sprang to my lips; for the martial Hainaulter had recently deserted
the cause of King Edward for that of Philip of Valois; and everybody
had told each other with surprise that he had changed sides from the
most mercenary motives. But I felt the full peril of my position, and
answered with the respect which might be supposed due from me to the
uncle of Queen Philippa, and the man who originally escorted her to
England.
"The word of the Lord John of Hainault," I said, "is sufficient, and I
rely confidently on his honour."
I now hesitated no longer. Rising, I assisted the Flemish prince to
his feet; and, while I surrendered my sword to John of Hainault, with
all the grace of which I was master, Louis of Flanders approached the
stirrup of Philip of Valois.
"Where is your father, cousin?" asked Philip kindly.
"Alas! sire, he is slain," replied the boy--"slain before my eyes;" and
he burst into tears.
"Compose yourself, cousin," said Philip kindly; "it has been the fate
of many brave men to die to-day."
"You are right, sire," replied the young count suddenly. "It is no time
to mourn; it is more meet to think of vengeance."
"Yes, sire," added John of Hainault; "and, that we may be alive and
free to fight another day, let us tarry here no longer. I say, as I
have already said, that, if you have lost this battle, another time you
may be a conqueror. Let us ride."
"And whither go you?" asked the young Count of Flanders.
"To the castle of La Broyes," answered John of Hainault.
"And what are we to make of this English page?" inquired one of the
horsemen.
"Kill him!" cried Philip, bending upon me his eyes fully and fiercely,
like a hawk that has long been kept in the dark.
"No, sire," protested John of Hainault calmly; "I have pledged my word
for his safety; he must mount and accompany us as a prisoner."
"By St. Denis!" exclaimed Philip. "Why cumber ourselves with such as he
is, when a thrust would settle the question at once?"
"My lord," replied John of Hainault gravely, "my word is passed; and
that is conclusive in my view as to his life being spared, however
worthless it may be."
No more time was wasted. I was ordered to mount my horse. I obeyed
readily, making the best of a bad business, and, disarmed and
vigilantly guarded, accompanied the cavaliers who escorted Philip of
Valois from the field in which he had met with a defeat more terrible
than any that had befallen the warriors of France since that day when
the paladins of Charlemagne were attacked and routed by a half-Spanish,
half-Moorish host, at the pass of Roncesvalles.
Mournfully and sadly the vanquished warriors rode on through the fields
of Picardy; and so much darker grew the night as they pursued their
way, that, at one time, they believed they had lost the path, and
feared that they would find themselves at the English camp. Late at
night, however, they perceived before them the lights of La Broyes,
and, with hearts somewhat lightened, they approached the gate. But, as
it happened, the gate was shut for the night, and the vanquished Valois
was refused admittance into his own fortress.
"Summon the governor," said Philip, in a commanding tone.
Having been hastily summoned, the governor appeared on the battlements.
"Who is it that calls at such an hour?" demanded the functionary, in a
mood by no means serene.
"Open, governor, open!" cried Philip impatiently.
"Who is it?" again demanded the governor, in a querulous tone.
"It is the Fortune of France," answered Philip solemnly.
And the governor, knowing his master's voice, came down; and the gate
was speedily opened; and Philip of Valois and his friends, and I, their
captive, silently entered La Broyes; and, so far as I was concerned,
that melancholy night ride was ended.