HOW HUGH WON KNIGHTHOOD
For nine days the host tarried on the Asiatic shore, collecting
stores of food in preparation for undertaking the siege of the city.
A mile away on the opposite side of the strait lay the army of the
Greeks, five times as numerous, gaily caparisoned, well-drilled,
equipped with all the arms and engines of warfare. And behind this
army were ten times as many more soldiers, if they were needed. By
losses at Zara and the desertion of the malcontents the host had
shrunk to some 20,000 fighting men. In Constantinople, alone, there
were 200,000 men of arms-bearing age, and the populations of the
suburbs, flowing in to take refuge behind the impregnable walls,
added considerably to this total. In Adrianople, Messinopolis,
Tchorlu, Salonika, Nicea and many another city there were hundreds of
thousands more. The Crusaders were as a chip of wood beside an
oak-tree in comparison to the Empire they had attacked.
On the tenth day a Parliament was held after mass in the open fields
by Scutari. It was attended by every knight and baron, fully
armoured and horsed. Boniface, Dandolo and the Young Alexius sat
their saddles in the centre of a horse-shoe of steel-clad men and
chargers. A forest of lances ringed them round. The words of
counsel were punctuated by the clatter of hoofs, the jingling of bits
and the clank of shields on hauberks. Fierce-visaged, eager, the
knights cried with one voice to be led to the attack. Alexius,
sumptuously clad in silks and velvets, seemed ill at ease in such
martial surroundings, but Dandolo and Boniface surveyed the
glittering ranks with the exultant eyes of leaders who know
themselves staunchly served.
"Forward, lords!" shouted the host. "Let the lances be couched! Out
swords!"
Pennons and banners fluttered like the beating wings of birds of
prey, and a storm of war-cries rose from the ranks. Boniface raised
his hand in a sign for silence.
"I wot well what ye seek, Messers," he said. "And it is my hope that
every valiant knight and brave sergeant shall have full opportunity
to prove his metal. We have now gained such store of food that our
wise ally, the magnificent Lord Doge, advises we may pass over the
straits and show the enemies of the Lord Alexius here that Our Lady
of Heaven fights on our side. To the ships, Messers!"
The host moved in seven battalions in orderly array, as became
veteran men-at-arms. The vanward was commanded by Count Baldwin,
because among his Flemings there were plenty of archers and
crossbowmen. The five divisions of the centre were led by Count
Baldwin's brother, Henry; by Count Hugh, by Count Louis, by the Lord
Matthew de Montmorency--in this battalion were the men of Champagne;
and by Odo de Champlitte. Boniface himself led the rearward, the
largest body of all, composed of all those peoples who were not of
the north of France.
The Venetian shipmasters directed the embarkation. The knights and
squires and mounted sergeants went on board the horse-transports,
with their chargers. The footmen boarded the great ships and
galleys. And when the last man had been assigned his place, the
galleys took the transports and ships in tow and began the passage of
the strait. It was a fair summer's day, with a gentle breeze blowing
out of the Black Sea, and the sun shone on the armour and weapons,
whilst trumpets sounded gaily from sterncastles and the coats-of-arms
on shields and surcoats glowed with vivid colour.
Hugh and Matteo were aboard the transport which carried the Marshal
of Champagne. They stood with other knights and squires in the
hollow waist of the ship, beside their chargers, all saddled and
ready to leap into the water the instant the keel struck ground. In
front of them the shipmen crouched along the transport's side,
waiting to unfasten the great doors, which dropped down and became
bridges over which the horses could be led.
In the depths of the hold they could see nothing of the fleet's
progress, but as they approached the European shore they heard the
trumpets of the Greeks, shrill and challenging, and presently
enormous stones, flung by petraries and mangonels, commenced to drop
in the water beside them. Cross-bow bolts hissed through the air and
struck the transport's hull with a vicious "ts-ss-st!" On the high
forecastle the Venetian shipmen laboured at the machinery of a
mangonel, which presently answered the missiles of the Greeks. The
air was full of arrows and hurtling stones.
"Ha, Messers," said Villehardouin, patting the flank of his charger,
"this promiseth to be a joyous enterprise. Steady, there!"
An arrow, shot high, dropped to the planks betwixt the horse's hoofs,
and stuck upright, its feathers quivering.
"And do they call that an arrow, Messer Hugh?" demanded Ralph,
stooping over it. "St. Cuthbert be my witness, I gave over playing
with such toys before I left the village butts."
"Mayhap, Ralph," said Hugh, amidst the general laughter of the
knights, "yet even so, it might have caused the death of Beosund or
another."
"Nay, Messer Hugh," protested the archer, "no war-horse could come by
his death from such a toy. But I will teach them a thing or two, an
they will but bide in bowshot of me."
"I will warrant you do," assented Villehardouin. "St. Remi guide
your shafts, brave varlet. But what says the shipmaster?"
The Venetian captain leaned over the rail of the sterncastle and
shouted down to them:
"Be prepared, lords! We approach the shore. Ho, there, varlets,
draw the door-pins."
The galley which had been towing them sheered to one side, casting
off the tow-rope, and their keel ran into the soft sand of the beach.
The shipmen let the side-doors drop, and the knights and squires led
the horses down the inclined bridges which were formed by this
manoeuvre. Hugh found himself splashing along in water up to his
middle, clutching Beosund's bridle in one hand and his lance in the
other. Matteo was beside him and Ralph a pace or two behind, holding
his precious bow overhead to protect its string from the water that
was boiling under the tumult of men and beasts.
"Form ranks, Messers," ordered Villehardouin, as the transport's
company gained the beach. "So! With the lance! St. Remi be our
guardian!"
They galloped forward in line with other units of their battalion,
but the Greeks would not withstand them. Before they came to the
shock the enemy had scattered and retired under shelter of a hail of
arrows.
"Hold!" called Villehardouin. "We must not outrun our archers."
"Nay, Lord Marshal, but there is one with you," said Ralph,
dismounting from his horse.
The Greeks had halted just out of what they deemed safe bowshot and
were occupied in rearranging the dense ranks of their companies.
Ralph flicked a blade of grass into the air, marked the drift of the
wind, and nocked a shaft.
"The tall knight in the green surcoat, Ralph," suggested Hugh.
"Ay, Messer Hugh. Here is a message for him."
The bowstring hummed, and whilst the company breathed twice nothing
happened. Then the green knight fell from his horse. There was a
riffle of panic in the Greek ranks, and they retired hastily a
considerable distance farther to the rear.
"Well shot," approved Villehardouin. "Here come our foot-sergeants.
Now we may prick up these people again."
The seven battalions of the host were duly arrayed in line, archers
in front and the main strength of mailed horsemen and footmen
bringing up the rear. But the Greeks would not stay to meet the
onset. Five times as strong though they were, the enemy retired
slowly, pausing only occasionally to harry the Crusaders' advance.
The pursuit continued all day, until the host were in sight of the
walls and towers of Constantinople on the other side of the Golden
Horn, and the camp of the Greeks on the near shore was occupied,
including the pavilion of the Emperor Alexius, who had come forth
from the city to encourage his troops.
But his presence was of no avail. The Greeks would not close battle,
and the Crusaders were exasperated at the illusiveness of the enemy.
Whilst their footmen and archers kept the advancing host in play, the
knights and men-at-arms of the Greek army were ferried across the
Golden Horn to Constantinople or else sought shelter in the fortress
of Galata, which guarded the chain barring the entrance to the city's
port.
"Truly such people are scarce worthy to bear arms," said Hugh
scornfully. "They could have surrounded us on all sides after we
left the shore, yet they were afraid to come to blows."
"Be not so sure of that, Hugh," returned Matteo. "I grant you the
Greeks are not such hardy men of their hands as our people, but they
are very shrewd enemies, and it is their wont to fight more with
their heads. According to their rule, they came out against us in
order that they might test our strength and valour. When they saw
how orderly was our array and how ready we were to give battle, they
reasoned that it would be foolish for them to risk fighting in the
open, where if they were defeated, they must have heavy losses.
Rather, they will wait behind their walls, where they will have us at
a great disadvantage."
Dandolo and Boniface had come up with Villehardouin, whilst the
jongleur was speaking, and the Doge nodded his head.
"You speak wisely, Messer Matteo," he agreed. "It is as you say.
Lords, I acquaint you that we have not yet begun our enterprise."
There was a moment's silence and Hugh and the others within hearing
of this declaration experienced a feeling of disappointment.
"What do you suggest now, Lord Doge?" asked Boniface.
"Let the men make camp in front of Galata. They have the tents left
by the Greeks. There is naught to be done before night. In the
morning we will bring the galleys and the ships to this place, land
the machines and assail Galata. For know, lords, that we may do
nothing against Constantinople itself until we have possession of the
Golden Horn."
A vigilant watch was kept all night; but in the morning the men of
the host became interested in the possibilities of loot in the
surrounding country, and the guard on Galata was relaxed. Hugh and
Matteo were returning from a ride up the shore of the Golden Horn,
whence they had studied that aspect of Constantinople, when Ralph met
them, flogging his horse along the road.
"Oh, Messers!" cried the archer. "Make haste! The Greeks have come
out of Galata, and they are assailing our people right bloodily."
The comrades put spurs to their horses, and galloped to the verge of
the open space betwixt the walls of Galata and the Jewry of Stenon
and adjoining suburbs. Here the fight raged bitterly, and there was
no doubt that the Crusaders were getting the worst of it. James
D'Avesnes, who had commanded the gate-guard, was down; his men had
been separated into isolated groups, and many of them were in flight.
The Greeks were elated by the easy victory they had won. Instead of
pushing on to take the main body of the host by surprise, as they had
the gate-guard, they were stopping to slaughter the remnants of the
guard. They gave no heed to their flanks or rear. In the meantime,
too, groups of Crusaders were coming up continually and gathering
behind the comrades in the main street of Stenon. There were belted
knights among these reinforcements, but in the heat of the moment
none thought to question the leadership which Hugh assumed by
instinct.
"This is no time for arrows, Messers," he said curtly. "Nor may we
await the coming of more of our friends. Lances and swords! Forward
with God!"
"Forward!" they echoed him. "Our Lady of Mercy!" "St. Remi for
Champagne!" "St. Nicholas to the rescue!" "Hola, men of Burgundy!"
"St. Mark for Venice!" "Hainault! Hainault!"
Matteo, at Hugh's elbow, started to whisper in his ear; but as the
jongleur saw Hugh's eye sweep the field, he settled in his saddle
with a smile of content.
Hugh couched his lance.
"Follow me, Messers!" he flung over his shoulder.
Like a landslide that mass of armoured men and horses shot down the
slope of the hill and smote the unprotected flank of the Greeks,
slicing through opposition as a sword slices through a leather
doublet. On the farther side of the field they turned and charged
back into the melee, emerging finally at the spot where they had
first struck. Behind them was a wide swath of dead men and horses.
The Greeks were checked. The captains of the bandoi were rallying
their men for a withdrawal. But Hugh was not satisfied. He led his
column around again, and charged the enemy from the front.
This time the blow was expected, and the charge met a wall of spears.
Arrows hissed and stung. Sling-stones rapped on helms. Holes gaped
in the charging ranks. But still the Crusaders won through, and the
Greeks, threatened with disintegration, closed around them in one
swirling, milling medley of death and agony. The column was split
asunder, disintegrated in its turn, and became a series of
independent groups, each fighting to save itself or clear the press.
Hugh, with Matteo and Ralph, was completely separated from the rest.
So desperate was their onset that they plunged beyond the enemy ranks
and were caught up in the stream of retreating Greeks and carried
with them toward the gate of Galata. Enemies surrounded them, but
the comrades struggled on. Hugh's lance had been shivered early in
the fray. He fought now with his sword and Beosund's high-flung
heels, for the good horse loved the combat as did his master.
"On, comrades!" he cried hoarsely. "They must not bar the gate!"
"On!" croaked Matteo and Ralph behind him.
They slashed their way through the intervening ranks of fugitive
Greeks, cut down the warders who were endeavouring hastily to swing
the ponderous doors in place, and then rested on their arms for one
precious minute. Within Galata all was disorder, and few knew that
the enemy was actually across the threshold. Outside, the remaining
Greeks were hotly engaged with the men of Hugh's company.
"Hugh," said Matteo. "This has been a brave venture. But we three
cannot hope to stand for long by ourselves."
"Nay, then, Matteo, we will perish as must be."
"We need not perish," returned the jongleur. "Let us two bide here
and hold the gate, whilst Ralph rides at speed to summon aid. Our
people are fighting with the Greeks outside, unwitting where we are.
But let them know, and we shall soon have aid in plenty."
"You speak sooth," agreed Hugh. "Ralph, off with you, and be swift,
if you would see us alive again."
"But, Messer Hugh----"
"Off with you! 'Tis our one chance."
Ralph shot out of the archway like one of his own arrows from its
bow. And the vaulted roof still resounded with the thunder of his
departure when a flight of real arrows tinkled on the stones and the
comrades' armour. Hugh looked along the arch of the gateway. At the
farther end he saw a squad of Greeks, who dodged this way and that,
seeking to get a good shot at him.
"We shall never live to see our friends," he exclaimed, leaping from
his horse, "if we bide here in the open. We must have cover."
Matteo pointed to a doorway, scarce wide enough to permit of the
horses' passage.
"Ay, that will do," said Hugh, and led in Beosund.
The scant light that straggled through the loopholes revealed the
emptiness of the room, a chamber evidently reserved for the warders
of the gate. The comrades stabled their horses, and then returned to
the archway, in time to witness a shower of arrows, followed by an
outburst of shrill Greek war-cries and the thudding of feet on the
stone floor of the passage.
Hugh took a firmer hold on the hand-grips of his shield.
"There is more space for sword-play in the open. What say you,
comrade?"
"Ay, Hugh. Back to back."
Side by side the comrades stepped out to meet the rush. Then, as the
Greeks flowed around them, attacking from every angle, with sword and
mace, axe and javelin, they set shoulders together and fought
desperately to ward off the terrible pressure. Hugh, as of old, slew
by sheer muscle and might, shattering helms and byrnies with his
great sword. Matteo, hampered as he was by the press of foes, still
contrived to swing his curved blade with all the trickery of the
Saracens. They exacted a fearful toll, but despite themselves the
comrades were obliged to give ground before this weight of men. They
were forced backward, steadily, inexorably, toward the patch of
sunshine that marked the outer exit of the gateway. There came a
moment, when Matteo, who faced that way, saw that they might not
retreat another step, else the enemy's purpose was achieved.
"Side by side again, Hugh," he gasped between thrusts.
"Together--now! Ha! Christ and the Sepulchre!"
"St. James!" panted Hugh. "A Chesby for St. James!"
They cast off the leaden weight of weariness which bowed down their
limbs. Reckless of all, save the need for victory, they turned and
chopped a path in their enemies' ranks, until they stood safely
inside the barrier. But they could do no more. Hugh reeled under
the blows that rang on helm and hauberk, unable even to raise his
sword to guard his head. His strength was gone, and suddenly behind
him he felt Matteo's body sag and give.
"This is the end," he thought. "Dear Christ, receive my soul!
Edith----"
A chorus of shouts filled the archway, and the entrance was darkened
by a rush of tall figures. Vaguely, Hugh heard well-remembered
battle-cries, the names of Saints of the Western Church, the
full-throated roar of Frankish voices. Then his ears seemed to close
and his eyes were dimmed.... When he came to himself, he was leaning
against the wall of the gateway supported on Ralph's shoulder.
Matteo hung limp between two knights. The floor was littered with
bodies. In the midst of the carnage stood Boniface and Dandolo, the
old Doge in full armour like those around him.
"Messers," said Boniface, "this is a right knightly exploit that you
have done. It is my pleasure that you kneel before me to receive the
accolade."
Hugh knelt stumblingly in the blood and slime, but Matteo made a
gesture of protest.
"It may not be, Lord Marquis," he said weakly. "I am not---- It is
forbidden."
"Then is knighthood the loser thereby," answered the Marquis
courteously, "for, save this young English lord, there is no knight
in the host could match you for deserving honour and credit.
However, Messer Matteo, an you may not receive knighthood, yet you
shall have my favour and all service that I can render you, and
certes, no man will esteem you less for that you are not knight."
He turned to Hugh.
"It is in my mind that you will become as good a knight as your
father," he continued. "Rise, Sir Hugh."
The light stroke of the sword inspired Hugh with new strength. He
seemed to look along a corridor of blazing light, at the end of which
stood the sweet-faced Lady of Heaven herself, extending her hands in
a gesture of beneficence. St. Michael and the brave St. James stood
beside her, holding sword and shield. The vision faded, but his
dolour had vanished with it. He rose up, a whole man again, little
the worse for the fighting.
The knights thronged around him, questioning and congratulating; but
Matteo was first to clutch his hand.
"Ah, Hugh," said the jongleur earnestly. "God knows that I am glad
of your great joy this day, and if ever knight won to honour, then
have you."
"But you, Matteo? What I did, you did--and more!"
Matteo shook his head.
"We are at odds on that point, comrade, and so shall ever be. But I
quarrel not with you now. I ask a boon."
"A boon to you! All that I have is yours!"
The tears came in Matteo's eyes.
"It is like you to say so! But all I would crave is that you take me
for esquire of your body."
"You my esquire?"
Hugh laughed.
"Comrade, it is I who should buckle your armour, not you mine. Nay,
Matteo, in this I have my way. Comrades we remain. There is no such
thing as knight and squire between us two."