Books: The Lances Of Lynwood
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Lances Of Lynwood
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"So, Sir Squire!" exclaimed he, in his harsh voice, "what excuse
do you come to make for slaying my messenger ere he had time to
deliver his charge?"
"I own him as no messenger," returned Gaston. "He was a renegade
traitor from our own Castle, seeking his accomplice in villainy!"
"Well, speak on," said Oliver, to whom the death of a man-at-arms
was a matter of slight importance. "Art thou come to deliver up
the Castle to its rightful lord?"
"No, Messire Oliver," replied Gaston. "I come to bring the reply
of the Castellane, Sir Eustace Lynwood, that he will hold out the
Castle to the last extremity against all and each of your attacks."
"Sir Eustace Lynwood? What means this, Master Squire? Yonder knave
declared he was dead!"
"Hear me, Sir Oliver de Clisson," said Gaston. "Sir Eustace Lynwood
hath a pair of mortal foes at the Prince's court, who prevailed on a
part of the garrison to yield him into your hands. In my absence,
they in part succeeded. By the negligence of a drunken groom they
were enabled to fall upon him in his sleep, and, as they deemed, had
murdered him. I, returning with the rest of the garrison, was enabled
to rescue him, and deliver the Castle, where he now lies--alive,
indeed, but desperately wounded. Now, I call upon you, Sir Oliver,
to judge, whether it be the part of a true and honourable Knight to
become partner of such miscreants, and to take advantage of so foul
a web of treachery?"
"This may be a fine tale for the ears of younger knights-errant,
Sir Squire," was the reply of Clisson. "For my part though I am
no lover of treason, I may not let the King's service be stayed by
scruples. For yourself, Sir Squire, I make you a fair offer. You
are, by your tongue and countenance, a Gascon--a liegeman born of
King Charles of France. To you, and to every other man of French
birth, I offer to enter his service, or to depart whither it may
please you, with arms and baggage, so you will place the Castle
in our hands--and leave us to work our will of the island dogs
it contains!"
"Thanks, Sir Oliver, for such a boon as I would not vouchsafe to
stoop to pick up, were it thrown at my feet!"
"Well and good, Sir Squire," said Clisson, rather pleased at the
bold reply. "We understand each other. Fare thee well."
And Gaston walked back to the Castle, muttering to himself, "Had it
been but the will of the Saints to have sent Du Guesclin hither,
then would Sir Eustace have been as safe and free as in Lynwood
Keep itself! But what matters it? If he dies of his wounds, what
good would my life do me, save to avenge him--and from that he has
debarred me. So, grim Oliver, do thy worst!--Ha!" as he entered
the Castle--"down portcullis--up drawbridge! Archers, bend your
bows! Martin, stones for the mangonel!"
Nor was the assault long delayed. Clisson's men only waited to
secure their horses and prepare their ladders, and the attack was
made on every side.
It was well and manfully resisted. Bravely did the little garrison
struggle with the numbers that poured against them on every side,
and the day wore away in the desperate conflict.
Sir Eustace heard the loud cries of "Montjoie St. Denis! Clisson!"
on the one side, and the "St. George for Merry England! A Lynwood!"
with which his own party replied; he heard the thundering of heavy
stones, the rush of combatants, the cries of victory or defeat.
Sometimes his whole being seemed in the fight; he clenched his
teeth, he shouted his war-cry, tried to raise himself and lift his
powerless arm; then returned again to the consciousness of his
condition, clasped either the rosary or the crucifix, and turned
his soul to fervent prayer; then, again, the strange wild cries
without confounded themselves into one maddening noise on his
feverish ear, or, in the confusion of his weakened faculties, he
would, as it were, believe himself to be his brother dying on the
field of Navaretta, and scarce be able to rouse himself to a feeling
of his own identity.
So passed the day--and twilight was fast deepening into night, when
the cries, a short time since more furious than ever, and nearer
and more exulting on the part of the French, at length subsided,
and finally died away; the trampling steps of the men-at-arms could
be heard in the hall below, and Gaston himself came up with hasty
step, undid his helmet, and, wiping his brow, threw himself on the
ground with his back against the chest, saying, "Well, we have done
our devoir, at any rate! Poor Brigliador! I am glad he has a kind
master in Ingram!"
"Have they won the court?" asked Eustace. "I thought I heard their
shouts within it."
"Ay! Even so. How could we guard such an extent of wall with barely
five and twenty men? Old Silverlocks and Jaques de l'Eure are slain
Martin badly wounded, and we all forced back into the inner court,
after doing all it was in a man to do."
"I heard your voice, bold and cheerful as ever, above the tumult,"
said Eustace. "But the inner court is fit for a long defence--that
staircase parapet, where so few can attack at once."
"Ay," said Gaston, "it was that and the darkness that stopped
them. There I can detain them long enough to give the chance of the
succours, so those knaves below do not fail in spirit--and they know
well enough what chance they have from yon grim-visaged Breton! But
as to those succours, I no more expect them than I do to see the
Prince at their head! A hundred to one that he never hears of our
need, or, if he should, that Pembroke and Clarenham do not delay the
troops till too late."
"And there will be the loss of the most important castle, and the
most faithful and kindest heart!" said Eustace. "But go, Gaston--
food and rest you must need after this long day's fight--and the
defences must be looked to, and the men cheered!"
"Yes," said Gaston, slowly rising, and bending over the Knight; "but
is there nought I can do for you, Sir Eustace?"
"Nought, save to replenish my cup of water. It is well for me that
the enemy have not cut us off from the Castle well."
Gaston's supper did not occupy him long. He was soon again in
Eustace's room, talking over his plan of defence for the next day;
but with little, if any, hope that it would be other than his last
struggle. At last, wearied out with the exertions of that day and
the preceding, he listened to Eustace's persuasions, and, removing
the more cumbrous portions of his armour, threw himself on his bed,
and, in a moment, his regular breathings announced that he was
sound asleep.
It was in the pale early light of dawn that he awoke, and, starting
up while still half asleep, exclaimed, "Sir Eustace, are you there?
I should have relieved guard long since!" Then, as he recalled his
situation, "I had forgot! How is it with you, Sir Eustace? Have
you slept?"
"No," said Eustace. "I have not lost an hour of this last night
I shall ever see. It will soon be over now--the sun is already
reddening the sky; and so, Gaston, ends our long true-hearted
affection. Little did I think it would bring thee to thy death
in the prime of they strength and manhood!" and he looked
mournfully on the lofty stature and vigorous form of the Squire,
as he stood over him.
"For that, Sir Eustace, there is little cause to grieve. I have been
a wanderer, friendless and homeless, throughout my life; and save for
yourself, and, perhaps, poor little Arthur's kind heart, where is one
who would cast a second thought on me, beyond, perhaps, saying, 'He
was a brave and faithful Squire!' But little, little did I think,
when I saw your spurs so nobly won, that this was to be the end of
it--that you were to die, defamed and reviled, in an obscure den, and
by the foul treachery of--"
"Speak not of that, Gaston," said Eustace. "I have dwelt on it in
the long hours of the night, and I have schooled my mind to bear
it. Those with whom we shall soon be, know that if I have sinned
in many points, yet I am guiltless in that whereof they accuse me--
and, for the rest, there are, at least, two who will think no shame
of Eustace Lynwood. And now, if there is yet time, Gaston, since
no Priest is at hand, I would pray thee to do me the last favour of
hearing the confession of my sins."
And Gaston kneeling down, the Knight and Squire, according to the
custom of warriors in extremity, confessed to each other, with the
crucifix raised between them. Eustace then, with his weak and
failing voice, repeated several prayers and psalms appropriate to
the occasion, in which Gaston joined with hearty devotion. By this
time, a slight stir was heard within the Castle; and Gaston, rising
from his knees, went to the loophole, which commanded a view of the
court, where the French had taken up their quarters for the night
in some of the outbuildings--and the lion rampant of Clisson was
waving in triumph on the gateway tower.
"All silent there," said he; "but I must go to rouse our knaves in
time to meet the first onset." And, as he clasped on his armour,
he continued, "All that is in the power of man will we do! Rest
assured, Sir Eustace, they reach you not save through my body;
and let your prayers be with me. One embrace, Sir Eustace, and
we meet no more--"
"In this world." Eustace concluded the sentence, as Gaston hung
over him, and his tears dropped on his face. "Farewell, most
faithful and most true-hearted! Go, I command thee! Think not
on me--think on thy duty--and good angels will be around us both.
Farewell, farewell."
Gaston, for the first time in his life, felt himself unable to speak.
He crossed the room with slow and lingering step; then, with a great
effort, dashed out at the door, closing his visor as he did so, and,
after a short interval, during which he seemed to have stopped on the
stairs, Eustace could hear his gay bold tones, calling, "Up! up! my
merry men, all! Let not the French dogs find the wolf asleep in his
den. They will find our inner bartizan a hard stone for their teeth--
and it will be our own fault, if they crack it before the coming of
our brave comrades from Bordeaux!"
CHAPTER XIV
The open space beyond the walls of Bordeaux presented a bright and
lively scene. It was here that the pages of the Black Prince were
wont to exercise those sports and pastimes for which the court of
the palace scarce offered sufficient space, or which were too noisy
for the neighbourhood of the ladies, and of the invalid Prince.
Of noble and often of princely birth were all who entered that
school of chivalry, and, for the most part, the fine open
countenances, noble bearing, and well-made figures of the boys,
testified their high descent, as completely as the armorial
bearings embroidered on the back and front of their short kirtles.
Many different provinces had sent their noblest to be there
trained in the service of the bravest Knights and Princes. There,
besides the brown-haired, fair-skinned English boy, was the quick
fiery Welsh child, who owned an especial allegiance to the Prince;
the broad blue-eyed Fleming, whose parents rejoiced in the fame of
the son of Philippa of Hainault; the pert, lively Gascon, and the
swarthy Navarrese mountaineer--all brought together in close and
ever-changing contrast of countenance, habits, and character.
Of all the merry groups scattered through that wide green space, the
most interesting was one formed by three boys, who stood beneath a
tree, a little from the rest. The two eldest might be from ten to
eleven years old, the third two or three years younger, and his
delicate features, fair pale complexion, and slender limbs, made him
appear too weak and childish for such active sports as the rest were
engaged in, but that the lordly glance of his clear blue eye, his
firm tread, and the noble carriage of his shapely head, had in them
something of command, which attracted notice even before the exceeding
beauty of his perfectly moulded face, and long waving curls of golden
hair.
So like him, that they might have passed for brothers, was one of the
elder boys, who stood near--there was the same high white brow, proud
lip, regular features, and bright eye; but the complexion, though
naturally fair, was tanned to a healthy brown where exposed to the
sun; the frame was far stronger and more robust; and the glance of
the eye had more in it of pride and impatience, than of calm command
so remarkable in the little one. The three boys were standing in
consultation over an arrow which they had just discovered, stuck
deep in the ground.
"'Tis my arrow, that I shot over the mark on Monday," said the elder.
"Nay, Harry," said the younger boy, "that cannot be; for remember
Thomas Holland said your arrow would frighten the good nuns of St.
Ursula in their garden."
"It must be mine," persisted Harry--"for none of you all can shoot
as far."
"Yes, English Arthur can," said the little boy. "He shot a whole
cloth-yard beyond you the day--"
"Well, never mind, Edward," said Harry, sharply--"who cares for
arrows?--weapons for clowns, and not for Princes!"
"Nay, not so, Lord Harry," interrupted the third boy: "I have heard
my uncle say, many a time, that England's archery is half her strength
--and how it was our archers at the battle of Crecy--"
"I know all that--how the men of Genoa had wet bow-strings, and ours
dry ones," said Henry; "but they were peasants, after all!"
"Ay; but a King of England should know how to praise and value his
good yeomen."
Henry turned on his heel, and, saying, "Well, let the arrow be whose
it will, I care not for it," walked off.
"Do you know why Harry of Lancaster goes, Arthur?" said Edward,
smiling.
"No, my Lord," replied Arthur.
"He cannot bear to hear aught of King of England," was the answer.
"If you love me, good Arthur, vex him not with speaking of it."
"Father Cyril would say, he ought to learn content with the rank
where he was born," said Arthur.
"Father Cyril, again!" said Prince Edward. "You cannot live a day
without speaking of him, and of your uncle."
"I do not speak of them so much now," said Arthur, colouring, "It
is only you, Lord Edward, who never make game of me for doing so--
though, I trow, I have taught Pierre de Greilly to let my uncle's
name alone."
"Truly, you did so," said Edward, laughing, "and he has scarce yet
lost his black eye. But I love to hear your tales, Arthur, of that
quiet Castle, and the old Blanc Etoile, and your uncle, who taught
you to ride. Sit down here on the grass, and tell me more. But what
are you staring at so fixedly? At the poor jaded horse, that yonder
man-at-arms is urging on so painfully?"
"'Tis--No, it is not--Yes, 'tis Brigliador, and John Ingram himself,"
cried Arthur. "Oh, my uncle! my uncle!" And, in one moment, he
had bounded across the ditch, which fenced in their exercising
ground, and had rushed to meet Ingram. "Oh, John!" exclaimed he,
breathlessly, "have they done it? Oh, tell me of Uncle Eustace!
I he alive?"
"Master Arthur!" exclaimed Ingram, stopping his wearied horse.
"Oh, tell me, Ingram," reiterated Arthur, "is my uncle safe?"
"He is alive, Master Arthur--that is, he was when I came away, but
as sore wounded as ever I saw a Knight. And the butcher of Brittany
is upon them by this time! And here I am sent to ask succours--and
I know no more whom to address myself, than the cock at the top of
Lynwood steeple!"
"But what has chanced, John?--make haste, and tell me."
And John, in his own awkward and confused style, narrated how he
had been entrapped by Sanchez, and the consequences of his excess.
"But," said he, "I have vowed to our Lady of Taunton, and St.
Joseph of Glastonbury, that never again--"
Arthur had covered his face with his hands, and gave way to tears
of indignation and grief, as he felt his helplessness. But one
hand was kindly withdrawn, and a gentle voice said, "Weep not,
Arthur, but come with me, and my father will send relief to the
Castle, and save your uncle."
"You here, Lord Edward?" exclaimed Arthur, who had not perceived
that the Prince had followed him. "Oh yes, thanks, thanks! None
but the Prince can save him. Oh, let me see him myself, and that
instantly!"
"Then, let us come," said Edward, still holding Arthur's hand.
Arthur set off at such a pace, as to press the little Prince into
a breathless trot by his side; but he, too, was all eagerness, and
scorned to complain. They proceeded without interruption to the
court of the palace. Edward, leading the way, hastened to his
mother's apartments. He threw open the door, looked in, and,
saying to Arthur, "He must be in the council chamber," cut short
an exclamation of Lady Maude Holland, by shutting the door, and
running down a long gallery to an ante-chamber, where were several
persons waiting for an audience, and two warders, with halberts
erect, standing on guard outside a closed door.
"The Prince is in council, my Lord."
Edward drew up his head, and, waving them aside with a gesture that
became the heir of England, said, "I take it upon myself." He then
opened the door, and, still holding Arthur fast by the hand, led him
into the chamber where the Prince of Wales sat in consultation.
There was a pause of amazement as the two boys advanced to the high
carved chair on which the Prince was seated--and Edward exclaimed,
"Father, save Arthur's uncle!"
"What means this, Edward?" demanded the Prince of Wales, somewhat
sternly. "Go to your mother, boy--we cannot hear you now, and--"
"I cannot go, father," replied the child, "till you have promised
to save Arthur's uncle! He is wounded!--the traitors have wounded
him!--and the French will take the Castle, and he will be slain!
And Arthur loves him so much!"
"Come here, Edward," said the Prince, remarking the flushed cheek
and tearful eye of his son. "and tell me what this means."
Edward obeyed, but without loosing his hold of his young friend's
hand. "The man-at-arms is come, all heat and dust, on the poor
drooping, jaded steed--and he said, the Knight would be slain, and
the Castle taken, unless you would send him relief. It is Arthur's
uncle that he loves so well."
"Arthur's uncle?" repeated the Prince--and, turning his eyes on the
suppliant figure, he said, "Arthur Lynwood! Speak, boy."
"Oh, my Lord," said Arthur, commanding his voice with difficulty,
"I would only pray you to send succour to my uncle at Chateau
Norbelle, and save him from being murdered by Oliver de Clisson."
It was a voice which boded little good to Arthur's suit that now
spoke. "If it be Sir Eustace Lynwood, at Chateau Norbelle, of
whom the young Prince speaks, he can scarce be in any strait, since
the garrison is more than sufficient."
The little page started to his feet, and, regarding the speaker with
flashing eyes, exclaimed, "Hearken not to him, my Lord Prince! He is
the cause of all the treachery!--he is the ruin and destruction of my
uncle;--he has deceived you with his falsehoods! --and now he would
be his death!"
"How now, my young cousin!" said Clarenham, in a most irritating tone
of indifference--"you forget in what presence you are."
"I do not," replied Arthur, fiercely. "Before the Prince, Fulk
Clarenham, I declare you a false traitor!--and, if you dare deny
it, there lies my gloves!"
Fulk only replied by a scornful laugh, and, addressing the Prince,
said, "May I pray of your Grace not to be over severe with my young
malapert relation."
The Captal de Buch spoke: "You do not know what an adversary you
have provoked, Fulk! The other day, I met my nephew, little Pierre,
with an eye as black as the patch we used to wear in our young days
of knight-errantry. 'What wars have you been in, Master Pierre?'
I asked. It was English Arthur who had fought with him, for
mocking at his talking of nothing but his uncle. But you need not
colour, and look so abashed, little Englishman!--I bear no more
malice than I hope Pierre does--I only wish I had as bold a champion!
I remember thine uncle, if he is the youth to whom the Constable
surrendered at Navaretta, and of whom we made so much."
"Too much then, and too little afterwards," said old Sir John Chandos.
"You do not know all, Chandos," said the Prince.
"You do not yourself know all, my Lord," said Arthur, turning eagerly.
"Lord de Clarenham has deceived you, and led you to imagine that my
uncle wished ill to me, and wanted to gain my lands; whereas it is
he himself who wants to have me in his hands to bend me to his will.
It is he who has placed traitors in Chateau Norbelle to slay my uncle
and deliver him to the enemy; they have already wounded him almost to
death"--here Arthur's lips quivered, and he could hardly restrain a
burst of tears--"and they have sent for Sir Oliver de Clisson, the
butcher. Gaston will hold out as long as they can, but if you will
not send succours, my Lord, he will--will be slain; and kind Gaston
too;" and Arthur, unable to control himself any longer, covered his
face with his hands, and gave way to a silent suppressed agony of
sobs and tears.
"Cheer thee, my boy," said the Prince, kindly; "we will see to thine
uncle." Then, looking at his nobles, he continued, "It seems that
these varlets will allow us no more peace; and since there does in
truth appear to be a Knight and Castle in jeopardy, one of you had,
perhaps, better go with a small band, and clear up this mystery. If
it be as the boy saith, Lynwood hath had foul wrong."
"I care not if I be the one to go, my Lord," said Chandos; "my men
are aver kept in readiness, and a night's gallop will do the lazy
knaves all the good in the world."
Arthur, brushing off the tears, of which he was much ashamed, looked
at the old Knight in transport.
"Thanks, Chandos," said the Prince; "I would commit the matter to
none so willingly as to you, though I scarce would have asked it,
considering you were not quite so prompt on a late occasion."
"My Lord of Pembroke will allow, however, that I did come in time,"
said Sir John. "It was his own presumption and foolhardiness that
got him into the scrape, and he was none the worse for the lesson
he received. But this young fellow seems to have met with this
mischance by no fault of his own; and I am willing to see him
righted; for he is a good lad as well as a brave, as far as I have
known him."
"How came the tidings?" asked the Prince. "Did not one of you boys
say somewhat of a man-at-arms?"
"Yes, my Lord," said Arthur; "John Ingram, my uncle's own yeoman, has
come upon Brigliador with all speed. I sent him to the guard-room,
where he now waits in case you would see him."
"Ay," said old Chandos, "a man would have some assurance that he is
not going on a fool's errand. Let us have him here, my Lord."
"Cause him to be summoned," said the Prince to Arthur.
"And at the same time," said Chandos, "send for my Squire, Henry
Neville, to the ante-chamber. The men may get on their armour in
the meantime."
In a few minutes John Ingram made his appearance, the dust not yet
wiped from his armour, his hair hanging is disordered masses over
his forehead, and his jaws not completely resting from the
mastication of a huge piece of pasty. His tale, though confused,
could not be for an instant doubted, as he told of the situation
in which he had left Chateau Norbelle and its Castellane, "The best
man could wish to live under. Well, he hath forgiven me, and given
me his hand upon it"
"Forgiven thee--for what?" said the Prince.
"Ah! my Lord, I may speak of treason, but I am one of the traitors
myself! Did not the good Knight leave me in charge to make my
rounds constantly in the Castle, while he slept after his long
watching? and lo, there comes that wily rascal, the Seneschal,
Sanchez, with his ''Tis a cold night, friend John; the Knight wakes
thee up early; come down to the buttery, and crack a cup of sack in
all friendliness!' Down then go I, oaf that I was, thinking that,
may be, our Knight was over strict and harsh, and pulled the reins
so tight, that a poor man-at-arms must needs get a little diversion
now and then--as the proverb says, "when the cat's away, the mice
may play.' But it was drugged, my Lord, else when would one cup
of spiced wine have so overcome me that I knew nought till I hear
Master d'Aubricour shouting treason in the courtyard like one
frantic? But the Knight has forgiven me, and I have sworn to our
blessed Lady of Taunton, and St. Joseph of Glastonbury, that not a
draught of wine, spiced or unspiced, shall again cross my lips."
"A wholesome vow," said the Prince; "and her is a token to make
thee remember it,"--and he placed in the hand of the yeoman a
chain of some value. "Go to the guard-room, where you shall be
well entertained till such time as we need thee again, as we may,
if you have been, as you say, long in Sir Eustace Lynwood's service.
But what now? Hast more to say?"
"I would say--so please you, my Lord--that I pray you but to let me
ride back to Chateau Norbelle with this honourable Knight, for I owe
all service to Sir Eustace, nor could I rest till I know how it fares
with him."
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