THE SCOTS AT POICTIERS
I have mentioned, in an earlier part of my narrative, that, when
John of Valois was on his way from Paris to Poictiers to intercept
the Prince of Wales, some Scottish nobles and knights, including
Lord Douglas, Sir Archibald Douglas, and Sir William Ramsay, who had
assumed the Cross and were under a vow to repair to the Holy Land, so
far forgot the oaths they had taken as to come and offer their swords
to aid the cause of France; and I have said that they were gladly
welcomed by their ancient allies. Moreover, they were treated with high
distinction, and, on the day of battle, Lord Douglas and the Scots were
assigned an honourable post in that battalion of the French army which
John of Valois commanded in person, and in the conflict they fought
bravely. But, when defeat stared the French in the face, Lord Douglas,
who had by no means anticipated such a close to an enterprise in favour
of which the odds were so great, and into which he had thrown his
energies, became excessively alarmed, and nervously eager to escape.
"By St. Bride!" said he, "I dread so much falling into the hands of the
English, that, rather than become their prisoner, I should elect to die
at once."
Accordingly, Lord Douglas, when he saw that the engagement must end
in the discomfiture of the French, lost no time in attempting to save
himself by flight, and, with many of his companions, succeeded in
escaping. But some of his friends had no such good fortune. Both Sir
Archibald Douglas and Sir William Ramsay were taken prisoners; and
the former being in magnificent armour, was naturally supposed by his
captors to be some great lord who could pay an immense ransom.
Nothing, indeed, but the extraordinary presence of mind which was
displayed by his comrade in captivity could have saved Sir Archibald
Douglas from the inconvenience of enduring a long imprisonment, or
paying a large ransom.
But in this wise did Ramsay contrive to set his companion in arms at
liberty.
It was several hours after the battle had been won and the victory
secured, and the English were about to disencumber Archibald Douglas of
his sumptuous armour, when Ramsay, stepping suddenly forward, eyed his
fellow-prisoner with a look of fierce indignation, and, pretending to
be in a violent rage, seized him by the collar.
"You impudent rapscallion!" said he, affecting to treat Douglas as a
servant, "how comes it, in the name of the fiend, that you are thus
decked out in your master's armour?"
Douglas, perceiving the scheme at a glance, did not answer, but looked
the picture of convicted imposture and conscious guilt.
"Come hither, knave, and pull off my boots," continued Ramsay,
determined to lose no time in executing the project so well conceived.
Nor did Douglas fail to play his part skilfully. In fact, perceiving
that his escape was becoming almost a matter of certainty, he
approached as if trembling, and, kneeling down, pulled off one of the
boots; and, while he was busy with the other, Ramsay, seizing that
which was on the ground, beat him soundly.
"How is this?" asked the English who were present; "surely the person
whom you have just beaten is a lord of high rank?"
"What!" cried Ramsay with the utmost scorn, "do you call him a lord?
He is a scullion and a base knave, and I warrant he has rifled his
master's corpse. Go, you villain, to the field, search for the body of
my cousin, your master, and when you have found it return hither, that
I may give him decent burial."
"But his ransom?" said the English.
"Well," answered Ramsay, "I will pay the sum of forty shillings, which
is more than he is worth--body, bones, and all."
Not entertaining the slightest suspicion of the trick that was being
played at their expense, the English accepted the ransom that was
offered, and Ramsay, having once more soundly buffeted his comrade,
sent him about his business.
"Get you gone, sirrah!" cried he, pushing him roughly away; and then
whispered, "Fly!"
Douglas did not require a second hint.
Now it happened that Eustace the Strong had been quartered in the same
place as the Scots; and, knowing well who they were, he was greatly
diverted with the scene that was enacted before his eyes; and, when I
visited him somewhat later, he talked merrily on the subject.
"What?" asked I; "mean you that the Scot has escaped without paying his
ransom?"
"In truth," replied Eustace, "he has escaped, but his ransom has
been paid for him, and it amounted to forty shillings; and, certes,
Sir Squire, if you would name as moderate a ransom for me, I should
not long continue your prisoner; for I have a wife at home who is an
Englishwoman, and I would not that she fancied her countrymen had cut
me into mincemeat."
"On my faith, Eustace," said I, "I cannot do you the injustice of
rating you too low; but I will, at sunrise, name such a ransom as
you can easily pay without hurting your fortune, and you can have
your liberty to-morrow if you promise to pay the amount to me before
Christmas, at Bordeaux."
"Thanks for your courtesy," replied Eustace gladly; "and, trust me, I
will not fail to requite it."
"And now," said I, "if I could only reclaim the Scottish bird that has
flown!"
"Archibald Douglas is too knowing a bird to let you put salt on his
tail, under the circumstances," answered Eustace; "as well try to catch
a wandering star."