The seven months' siege ended at last, but it was not until the
brightness of May was on the fields outside, and the deadly blight of
famine on all within, that a haggard, wasted-looking deputation came down
from the upper city to treat with the King.
Henry was never severe with the inhabitants of French cities, and exacted
no harsh terms, save that he insisted that Vaurus, the robber captain,
and his two chief lieutenants, should be given up to him to suffer
condign punishment. The warriors who had shut themselves up to hold out
the place by honourable warfare for the Dauphin must be put to ransom as
prisoners of war; but the burghers were to be unmolested, on condition of
their swearing allegiance to Henry as regent for, and heir of, Charles
VI.
To this the deputies consented, and the next day was fixed for the
surrender. The difficulty was, as Henry had found at Harfleur, Rouen,
and many other places, to enforce forbearance on his soldiery, who
regarded plunder as their lawful prey, the enemy as their natural game,
and the trouble a city had given them as a cause for unmercifulness. The
more time changed his army from the feudal gathering of English country
gentlemen and yeomen to mercenary bands of men-at-arms, the mere greedy,
rapacious, and insubordinate became their temper. Well knowing the
greatness of the peril, and that the very best of his captains had
scarcely the will, if they had the power, to restrain the license that
soon became barbarity unimaginable, he spoke sadly overnight of his dread
of the day of surrender, when it might prove impossible to prevent deeds
that would be not merely a blot on his scutcheon, but a shame to human
nature; looking back to the exultation with which he had entered Harfleur
as a mere effect of boyish ignorance and thoughtlessness.
Having taken all possible precautions, he stood in his full armour, with
the fox's brush in his helmet, under the great elm in the market-place,
received the keys, accepted the sword of the captain commissioned by
Charles with royal courtesy, gave his hand to be kissed by the mayor; and
then, with grave inexorable air, like a statue of steel, watched as the
freebooter Vaurus and his two chief companions were led down with their
hands tied, halters round their necks, and priests at their sides,
preparing them to be hung on that very tree. They were proud hard men,
and uttered no entreaty for grace. They had hung too many travellers
upon these same branches not to expect their own turn, and they were no
cravens to abase themselves.
That act of justice ended, Henry mounted his warhorse and rode in at the
gates. His wont was to go straight to the principal church, and there
attend a solemn mass of thanksgiving; but experience had taught him that
his devotions were the very opportunity of his men's rapine: he had
therefore arranged that as soon as he should have arrived in the choir of
the cathedral, James should take his place, and he slip out by a side
door, so as to return to the scene of action.
In full procession he and his suite reached the chief door, and there
dismounted in an immense crowd, which thronged in at the doors.
'Come, Glenuskie,' said Ralf Percy, as the two youths were pushed chose
together in the press; 'if you have a fancy for being smothered in the
minster, I have none. We shall never be missed. 'Twill be sport to walk
round and see how these hardy rogues contrived to hold out.'
Malcolm willingly turned aside with him, and looked down the sloping
street, which was swarming with comers and goers. The whole place was in
an inflammable state. Soldiers were demanding quarters, which the
citizens unwillingly gave. A refusal or expostulation against a rough
entry led to violence; and ever as the two youths walked farther from the
cathedral, there was more of excitement, more rude oaths of soldiers,
more shrieking of women, often crying out even before any harm was done
to them or their houses.
At last, before a tall overhanging house, there was an immense press, and
a frightful din of shouts and imprecations, filling both the new-comers
with infectious eagerness.
'How now? how now?' called Percy. 'Keep the peace, good fellows.'
'Sir,' cried a number of voices, passionately, 'the French villains have
barred their door. There's a lot of cowardly Armagnacs hid there with
their gold, trying to balk honest men of their ransom.'
Such was the cry resounding on all sides. 'Have at them! There's the
rogue at the windows. Out on the fellows! Burn down the door! 'Tis
Vaurus himself and all his gold. Treason! treason!'
The clamour was convincing to the spirit, if not to the senses. The two
lads believed in the concealed Armagnacs, or perhaps more truly were
carried away by the vehemence around them; and with something of the
spirit of the chase, threw themselves headlong into the affair.
'Open! open!' shouted Ralf. 'Open, in the name of King Henry!'
An old man's face peeped through a little wicket in the door, and at
sight of the two youths, evidently of high rank, said in a trembling
voice, 'Alas! alas! Sir, bid these cruel men go away. I have nothing
here--no one--only my sick daughter.'
'You hear,' said Malcolm, turning round; 'only his sick daughter.'
'Sick daughter!--old liar! Here's an honest tinker makes oath he has
hoards of gold laid up for Vaurus, and ten Armagnacs hidden in his house.
Have at him! Bring fire!'
Blows hailed thick on the door; a flaming torch was handed over the heads
of the throng; horrible growls and roars pervaded them. Malcolm and
Ralf, furious at the cheat, stood among the foremost, making so much
noise themselves between thundering and reviling, and calling out, 'Where
are the Armagnacs? Down with the traitors!' that they were not aware of
a sudden hush behind them, till a buffet from a heavy hand fell on
Malcolm's shoulder, and a mighty voice cried 'Shame! shame! What, you
too!'
'There are traitors hid here, Sir,' said Percy, in angry
self-justification.
'And what an if there are? Back, every one of you! rogues that you
be!--Here, Fitzhugh, see those villains back to the camp. Let their arms
be given up to the Provost-marshal.--Kites and crows as you are! Away,
out with you!'
Henry pointed to the broken door, and the cowed and abashed soldiers
slunk away from the terrible light of his eyes. No man could stand
before the face of the King.
There was a stillness. He stood leaning on his sword, his chest heaving
with his panting breaths. He was naturally as fleet as the swift-footed
Achilles, but the winter had told upon him, and the haste with which he
had rushed to the rescue left him breathless and speechless, while he
seemed as it were to nail the two lads to the spot by his steady gaze of
mingled distress and displeasure.
Neither could brook his eye: Percy hung his head like a boy in a scrape;
Malcolm quailed with terror, but at the same time felt a keen sense of
injury in being thus treated as a plunderer, and the blow under which his
shoulder ached seemed an indignity to his royal blood.
'Boys,' said Henry, still low and breathlesly, but all the more
impressively, 'what is to become of honour and mercy if such as you must
needs become ravening wolves at scent of booty?'
'It was not booty, Sir; they said traitors were hid here,' said Percy,
sulkily.
'Tush! the old story! Ever the plea for rapine and bloodthirstiness.
After the warnings of last night you should have known better; but you
are all alike in frenzy for a sack. You have both put off your
knighthood till you have learnt not to become a shame thereto.'
'I take not knighthood at your hands, Sir,' burst out Malcolm, goaded
with hot resentment, but startled the next moment at the sound of his own
words.
'I cry you mercy,' said King Henry, in a cold, short tone.
Malcolm turned on his heel and walked away, without waiting to see how
the poor old man in the house threw himself at the King's feet with a
piteous history of his sick daughter and her starving children, nor how
Ralf hurried off headlong to the lower town to send them immediate relief
in bread, wine, and doctors. The gay, good-natured, thoughtless lad no
mere harboured malice for the chastisement than if his tutor had caught
him idling; but things went deeper with Malcolm. True, he had undergone
many a brutal jest and cruel practical joke from his cousins; but that
was all in the family, not like a blow from an alien king, and one not
apologized for, but followed up by a rebuke that seemed to him unjust,
lowering him in his own eyes and those of Esclairmonde, and making him
ready to gnaw himself with moody vexation.
'You here, Malcolm!' said King James, entering his quarters; 'did you
miss me in the throng? I have not seen you all day.'
'I have been insulted, Sir,' said Malcolm. 'I pray your license to
depart and carry my sword to my kinsmen in the French camp.'
'How now! Is it the way to treat an insult to run away from it?'
'Not when the world judges men to be on equal terms, my lord.'
'What! Who has done you wrong, you silly loon?'
'King Henry, Sir; he struck me with his fist, and rated me like his
hound; and I will not eat another morsel of his bread unless he would
answer it to me in single combat.'
'Little enough bread you'd eat after that same answer!' ejaculated James.
'Oh! I understand now. You were with young Hotspur and the rest that
set on the poor townsmen, and Harry made small distinction of persons!
Nay, Malcolm, it was ill in you, that talked of so loathing spulzie!'
'I wanted no spulzie. There were Armagnacs hid in the house, and the
King would not hear us.'
'He knew that story too well. Were you asleep or idling last night, when
he warned all, on no plea whatever, to break into a house, but, if the
old tale of treachery came up, to set a guard, and call one of the
captains? Did you hear him--eh?'
'I can take chiding from you, Sir, but neither words nor blows from any
other king in Christendom, still less when he threatens me that I have
deferred my knighthood! As if I would have it from him!'
'From me you will not have it until he have pardoned Ralf Percy,' said
James, dryly. 'Malcolm, I had not thought you such a fule body! Under a
captain's banner, what can be done but submit to his rule? I should do
so myself, were Salisbury or March in command.'
'Then, Sir,' said Malcolm, much hurt that the King did not take his part,
'I shall carry my service elsewhere.'
'So,' said James, much vexed, 'this is the meek lad that wanted to hide
in a convent from an ill world, flying off from his king and kinsman that
he may break down honest men's doors at his will.'
'That I may be free from insult, Sir.'
'You think John of Buchan like to cosset you! You found the Black
Douglas so courtly to me the other day as to expect him to be tender to
this nicety of yours! Malcolm, as your prince and guardian, I forbid
this folly, and command you to lay aside this fit of malice and do your
devoir. What! sobbing, silly lad--where's your manhood?'
'Sir, Sir, what will they think of me--the Lady Esclairmonde and all--if
they hear I have sat down tamely with a blow?'
'She will never think about you at all but as a sullen malapert ne'er-do-
weel, if you go off to that camp of _routiers_, trying to prop a bad
cause because you cannot take correction, nor observe discipline.'
A sudden suspicion came over Malcolm that the King would not thus make
light of the offence, if it had really been the inexpiable insult he had
supposed it, and the thought was an absolute relief; for in effect the
parting from James, and joining the party opposed to Esclairmonde's
friends, would have been so tremendous a step, that he could hardly have
contemplated it in his sober senses, and he murmured, 'My honour, Sir,'
in a tone that James understood.
'Oh, for your honour--you need not fear for that! Any knight in the army
could have done as much without prejudice to your honour. Why, you silly
loon, d'ye think I would not have been as angered as yourself, if your
honour had been injured?'
Malcolm's heart felt easier, but he still growled. 'Then, Sir, if you
assure me that I can do so without detriment to my honour, I will not
quit you.'
James laughed. 'It might have been more graciously spoken, my good
cousin, but I am beholden to you.'
Malcolm, ashamed and vexed at the sarcastic tone, held his tongue for a
little while, but presently exclaimed, 'Will the Bishop of Therouenne
hear of it?'
James laughed. 'Belike not; or, if he should, it would only seem to him
the reasonable training of a young squire.'
The King did not say what crossed his own mind, that the Bishop of
Therouenne was more likely to think Henry over-strict in discipline, and
absurdly rigorous.
The prelate, Charles de Luxemburg, brother to the Count de St. Pol, had
made several visits to the English camp. He was one of these princely
younger sons, who, like Beaufort at home, took ecclesiastical preferments
as their natural provision, and as a footing whence they might become
statesmen. He was a great admirer of Henry's genius, and, as the chief
French prelate who was heartily on the English side, enjoyed a much
greater prominence than he could have done at either the French or
Burgundian Court. He and his brother of St. Pol were Esclairmonde's
nearest kinsmen--'oncles a la mode de Bretagne,' as they call the
relationship which is here sometimes termed Welsh uncle, or first cousins
once removed--and from him James had obtained much more complete
information about Esclairmonde than he could ever get from the flighty
Duchess.
Her mother, a beautiful Walloon, had been heiress to wide domains in
Hainault, her father to great estates in Flanders, all which were at
present managed by the politic Bishop. Like most of the
statesman-secular-clergy, the Bishop hated nothing so much as the
monastic orders, and had made no small haste to remove his fair niece
from the convent at Dijon, where she had been educated, lest the
Cistercians should become possessed of her lands. He had one scheme for
her marriage; but his brother, the Count, had wished to give her to his
own second son, who was almost an infant; and the Duke of Burgundy had
designs on her for his half-brother Boemond; and among these various
disputants, Esclairmonde had never failed to find support against
whichever proposal was forced upon her, until the coalition between the
Dukes of Burgundy and Brabant becoming too strong, she had availed
herself of Countess Jaqueline's discontent to evade them both.
The family had, of course, been much angered, and had fully expected that
her estates would go to some great English abbey, or to some English lord
whose haughty reserve and insularity would be insupportable. It was
therefore a relief to Monseigneur de Therouenne to hear James's designs;
and when the King further added, that he would be willing to let the
claims on the Hainault part of her estates be purchased by the Count de
St. Pol, and those in Flanders by the Duke of Burgundy, the Bishop was
delighted, and declared that, rather than such a negotiation should fail,
he would himself advance the sum to his brother; but that the Duke of
Burgundy's consent was more doubtful, only could they not do without it?
And he honoured Malcolm with a few words of passing notice from time to
time, as if he almost regarded him as a relation. No doubt it would have
been absurd to fly from such chances as these to Patrick Drummond and the
opposite camp; and yet there were times when Malcolm felt as if he should
get rid of a load on his heart if he were to break with all his present
life, hurry to Patrick, confess the whole to him, and then--hide his head
in some hermitage, leaving his pledge unforfeited!
That, however, could not be. He was bound to the King, and might not
desert him, and it was not unpleasant to brood over the sacrifice of his
own displeasure.
'See,' said Henry, in the evening, as he came into the refectory and
walked up to James, 'I have found my signet. It was left in the finger
of my Spanish glove, which I had not worn since the beginning of winter.
Thanks to all who took vain pains to look for it.'
But Malcolm did not respond with his pleased look to the thanks. He was
not in charity with Henry, and crept out of hearing of him, while James
was saying, 'You had best destroy one or the other, or they will make
mischief. Here, I'll crush it with the pommel of my sword.'
'Ay,' said Henry, laughing, 'you'd like to shew off one of your sledge-
hammer blows--Sir Bras de Fer! But, Master Scot, you shall not smash the
English shield so easily. This one hangs too loose to be safe; I shall
keep it to serve me when we have fattened up at Paris, after the leanness
of our siege.'
'Hal,' said James, seeing his gay temper restored, 'you have grievously
hurt that springald of mine. His northern blood cannot away with the
taste he got of your fist.'
'Pretty well for your godly young monk, to expect to rob unchecked!'
laughed Henry.
'He will do well at last,' said James. 'Manhood has come on him with a
rush, and borne him off his feet; nor would I have him over-tame.'
'There spake the Scot!' said Henry. 'By my faith, Jamie, we should have
had you the worst robber of all had we not caught you young! Well, what
am I do for this sprig of royalty? Say I struck unawares? Nay, had I
known him, I'd have struck with as much of a will as his slight bones
would bear.'
'An you love me, Hal, do something to cool his ill blood, and remove the
sense of shame that sinks a lad in his own eyes.'
'Methought,' said Henry, 'there was more shame in the deed than in the
buffet.'
Nevertheless the good-natured King took an occasion of saying: 'My Lord
of Glenuskie, I smote without knowing you. It was no place for a
prince--nay, for any honest man; otherwise no hand should have been laid
on my guest or my brother's near kinsman. And whereas I hear that both
you and my fiery hot Percy verily credited the cry that prisoners were
hid in that house, let me warn you that never was place yielded on
composition but some villain got up the shout, and hundreds of fools
followed it, till they learnt villainy in their turn. Therefore I ever
chastise transgression of my command to touch neither dwelling nor
inhabitant. You have both learnt your lesson, and the lion rampant and
he of the straight tail will both be reined up better another time.'
Malcolm had no choice but to bend his head, mutter something, and let the
King grasp his hand, though to him the apology seemed none at all, but
rather to increase the offence, since the blame was by no means taken
back again, while the condescension was such as could not be rejected,
and thus speciously took away his excuse for brooding over his wrath. His
hand lay so unwillingly in that strong hearty clasp that the King dropped
it, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered to himself, 'Sullen
young dog! No Scot can let bygones be bygones!' and then he turned away
and cast the trifle from his memory.
James was amazed not to see the moody face clear up, and asked of Malcolm
whether he were not gratified with this ample satisfaction.
'I trow I must be, Sir,' said Malcolm.
'I tell thee, boy,' said James, 'not one king--nay, not one man--in a
thousand would have offered thee the frank amends King Harry hath done
this day: nay, I doubt whether even he could so have done, were it not
that the hope of his wife's coming hath made him overflow with joy and
charity to all the world.'
Malcolm did not make much reply, and James regarded him with some
disappointment. The youth was certainly warmly attached to him, but
these tokens of superiority to the faults of his time and country which
had caused the King to seek him for a companion seemed to have vanished
with his feebleness and timidity. The manhood that had been awakened was
not the chivalrous, generous, and gentle strength of Henry and his
brothers, but the punctilious pride and sullenness, and almost something
of the license, of the Scot. The camp had not proved the school of
chivalry that James, in his inexperience, had imagined it must be under
Henry, and the tedium and wretchedness of the siege had greatly added to
its necessary evils by promoting a reckless temper and willingness to
snatch at any enjoyment without heed to consequences. Close attendance
on the kings had indeed prevented either Malcolm or Percy from even
having the temptation of running into any such lengths as those gentry
who had plundered the shrine of St. Fiacre at Breuil, or were continually
galloping off for an interval of dissipation at Paris; but they were both
on the outlook for any snatch of stolen diversion, for in ceasing from
monastic habits Malcolm seemed to have laid aside the scruples of a
religious or conscientious youth, and specially avoided Dr. Bennet, the
King's almoner.
James feared he had been mistaken, and looked to the influence of
Esclairmonde to repair the evil, if perchance she should follow the Queen
to France. And this it was almost certain she must do, since she was
entirely dependent upon the Countess of Hainault, and could not obtain
admission to a nunnery without recovering a portion of her estates.