CHAPTER XXIII.
HOW ENGLAND HELD THE LISTS AT BORDEAUX.
So used were the good burghers of Bordeaux to martial display and
knightly sport, that an ordinary joust or tournament was an everyday
matter with them. The fame and brilliancy of the prince's court had
drawn the knights-errant and pursuivants-of-arms from every part of
Europe. In the long lists by the Garonne on the landward side of
the northern gate there had been many a strange combat, when the
Teutonic knight, fresh from the conquest of the Prussian heathen,
ran a course against the knight of Calatrava, hardened by continual
struggle against the Moors, or cavaliers from Portugal broke a
lance with Scandinavian warriors from the further shore of the great
Northern Ocean. Here fluttered many an outland pennon, bearing
symbol and blazonry from the banks of the Danube, the wilds of
Lithuania and the mountain strongholds of Hungary; for chivalry
was of no clime and of no race, nor was any land so wild that the
fame and name of the prince had not sounded through it from
border to border.
Great, however, was the excitement through town and district when
it was learned that on the third Wednesday in Advent there would
be held a passage-at-arms in which five knights of England would
hold the lists against all comers. The great concourse of
noblemen and famous soldiers, the national character of the
contest, and the fact that this was a last trial of arms before
what promised to be an arduous and bloody war, all united to make
the event one of the most notable and brilliant that Bordeaux had
ever seen. On the eve of the contest the peasants flocked in
from the whole district of the Medoc, and the fields beyond the
walls were whitened with the tents of those who could find no
warmer lodging. From the distant camp of Dax, too, and from
Blaye, Bourge, Libourne, St. Emilion, Castillon, St. Macaire,
Cardillac, Ryons, and all the cluster of flourishing towns which
look upon Bordeaux as their mother, there thronged an unceasing
stream of horsemen and of footmen, all converging upon the great
city. By the morning of the day on which the courses were to be
run, not less than eighty people had assembled round the lists
and along the low grassy ridge which looks down upon the scene of
the encounter.
It was, as may well be imagined, no easy matter among so many
noted cavaliers to choose out five on either side who should have
precedence over their fellows. A score of secondary combats had
nearly arisen from the rivalries and bad blood created by the
selection, and it was only the influence of the prince and the
efforts of the older barons which kept the peace among so many
eager and fiery soldiers. Not till the day before the courses
were the shields finally hung out for the inspection of the
ladies and the heralds, so that all men might know the names of
the champions and have the opportunity to prefer any charge
against them, should there be stain upon them which should
disqualify them from taking part in so noble and honorable a
ceremony.
Sir Hugh Calverley and Sir Robert Knolles had not yet returned
from their raid into the marches of the Navarre, so that the
English party were deprived of two of their most famous lances.
Yet there remained so many good names that Chandos and Felton, to
whom the selection had been referred, had many an earnest
consultation, in which every feat of arms and failure or success
of each candidate was weighed and balanced against the rival
claims of his companions. Lord Audley of Cheshire, the hero of
Poictiers, and Loring of Hampshire, who was held to be the
second lance in the army, were easily fixed upon. Then, of the
younger men, Sir Thomas Percy of Northumberland, Sir Thomas Wake
of Yorkshire, and Sir William Beauchamp of Gloucestershire, were
finally selected to uphold the honor of England. On the other
side were the veteran Captal de Buch and the brawny Olivier de
Clisson, with the free companion Sir Perducas d'Albret, the
valiant Lord of Mucident, and Sigismond von Altenstadt, of the
Teutonic Order. The older soldiers among the English shook their
heads as they looked upon the escutcheons of these famous
warriors, for they were all men who had spent their lives upon
the saddle, and bravery and strength can avail little against
experience and wisdom of war.
"By my faith! Sir John," said the prince as he rode through the
winding streets on his way to the list, "I should have been glad
to have splintered a lance to-day. You have seen me hold a spear
since I had strength to lift one, and should know best whether I
do not merit a place among this honorable company."
"There is no better seat and no truer lance, sire," said Chandos;
"but, if I may say so without fear of offence, it were not
fitting that you should join in this debate."
"And why, Sir John?"
"Because, sire, it is not for you to take part with Gascons
against English, or with English against Gascons, seeing that you
are lord of both. We are not too well loved by the Gascons now,
and it is but the golden link of your princely coronet which
holds us together. If that be snapped I know not what would
follow."
"Snapped, Sir John!" cried the prince, with an angry sparkle in
his dark eyes. "What manner of talk is this? You speak as
though the allegiance of our people were a thing which might be
thrown off or on like a falcon's jessel."
"With a sorry hack one uses whip and spur, sire," said Chandos;
"but with a horse of blood and spirit a good cavalier is gentle
and soothing, coaxing rather than forcing. These folk are
strange people, and you must hold their love, even as you have it
now, for you will get from their kindness what all the pennons in
your army could not wring from them."
"You are over-grave to-day, John," the prince answered. "We may
keep such questions for our council-chamber. But how now, my
brothers of Spain, and of Majorca, what think you of this
challenge?"
"I look to see some handsome joisting," said Don Pedro, who rode
with the King of Majorca upon the right of the prince, while
Chandos was on the left. "By St. James of Compostella! but these
burghers would bear some taxing. See to the broadcloth and
velvet that the rogues bear upon their backs! By my troth! if
they were my subjects they would be glad enough to wear falding
and leather ere I had done with them. But mayhap it is best to
let the wool grow long ere you clip it."
"It is our pride," the prince answered coldly, "that we rule over
freemen and not slaves."
"Every man to his own humor," said Pedro carelessly. "Carajo!
there is a sweet face at yonder window! Don Fernando, I pray you
to mark the house, and to have the maid brought to us at the
abbey."
"Nay, brother, nay!" cried the prince impatiently. "I have had
occasion to tell you more than once that things are not ordered
in this way in Aquitaine."
"A thousand pardons, dear friend," the Spaniard answered quickly,
for a flush of anger had sprung to the dark cheek of the English
prince. "You make my exile so like a home that I forget at times
that I am not in very truth back in Castile. Every land hath
indeed its ways and manners; but I promise you, Edward, that when
you are my guest in Toledo or Madrid you shall not yearn in vain
for any commoner's daughter on whom you may deign to cast your
eye."
"Your talk, sire," said the prince still more coldly, "is not
such as I love to hear from your lips. I have no taste for such
amours as you speak of, and I have sworn that my name shall be
coupled with that of no woman save my ever dear wife."
"Ever the mirror of true chivalry!" exclaimed Pedro, while James
of Majorca, frightened at the stern countenance of their all-powerful
protector, plucked hard at the mantle of his brother
exile.
"Have a care, cousin," he whispered; "for the sake of the Virgin
have a care, for you have angered him."
"Pshaw! fear not," the other answered in the same low tone. "If
I miss one stoop I will strike him on the next. Mark me else.
Fair cousin," he continued, turning to the prince, "these be rare
men-at-arms and lusty bowmen. It would be hard indeed to match
them."
"They have Journeyed far, sire, but they have never yet found
their match."
"Nor ever will, I doubt not. I feel myself to be back upon my
throne when I look at them. But tell me, dear coz, what shall we
do next, when we have driven this bastard Henry from the kingdom
which he hath filched?"
"We shall then compel the King of Aragon to place our good friend
and brother James of Majorca upon the throne."
"Noble and generous prince!" cried the little monarch.
"That done," said King Pedro, glancing out of the corners of his
eyes at the young conqueror, "we shall unite the forces of
England, of Aquitaine, of Spain and of Majorca. It would be
shame to us if we did not do some great deed with such forces
ready to our hand."
"You say truly, brother," cried the prince, his eyes kindling at
the thought. "Methinks that we could not do anything more
pleasing to Our Lady than to drive the heathen Moors out of the
country."
"I am with you, Edward, as true as hilt to blade. But, by St.
James! we shall not let these Moors make mock at us from over the
sea. We must take ship and thrust them from Africa."
"By heaven, yes!" cried the prince. "And it is the dream of my
heart that our English pennons shall wave upon the Mount of
Olives, and the lions and lilies float over the holy city."
"And why not, dear coz? Your bowmen have cleared a path to
Paris, and why not to Jerusalem? Once there, your arms might
rest."
"Nay, there is more to be done," cried the prince, carried away
by the ambitious dream. "There is still the city of Constantine
to be taken, and war to be waged against the Soldan of Damascus.
And beyond him again there is tribute to be levied from the Cham
of Tartary and from the kingdom of Cathay. Ha! John, what say
you? Can we not go as far eastward as Richard of the Lion
Heart?"
"Old John will bide at home, sire," said the rugged soldier. "By
my soul! as long as I am seneschal of Aquitaine I will find
enough to do in guarding the marches which you have entrusted to
me. It would be a blithe day for the King of France when he
heard that the seas lay between him and us."
"By my soul! John," said the prince, "I have never known you turn
laggard before."
"The babbling hound, sire, is not always the first at the mort,"
the old knight answered.
"Nay, my true-heart! I have tried you too often not to know.
But, by my soul! I have not seen so dense a throng since the day
that we brought King John down Cheapside."
It was indeed an enormous crowd which covered the whole vast
plain from the line of vineyards to the river bank. From the
northern gate the prince and his companions looked down at a dark
sea of heads, brightened here and there by the colored hoods of
the women, or by the sparkling head-pieces of archers and
men-at-arms. In the centre of this vast assemblage the lists
seemed but a narrow strip of green marked out with banners and
streamers, while a gleam of white with a flutter of pennons at
either end showed where the marquees were pitched which served as
the dressing-rooms of the combatants. A path had been staked off
from the city gate to the stands which had been erected for the
court and the nobility. Down this, amid the shouts of the
enormous multitude, the prince cantered with his two attendant
kings, his high officers of state, and his long train of lords
and ladies, courtiers, counsellors, and soldiers, with toss of
plume and flash of jewel, sheen of silk and glint of gold--as
rich and gallant a show as heart could wish. The head of the
cavalcade had reached the lists ere the rear had come clear of
the city gate, for the fairest and the bravest had assembled from
all the broad lands which are watered by the Dordogne and the
Garonne. Here rode dark-browed cavaliers from the sunny south,
fiery soldiers from Gascony, graceful courtiers of Limousin or
Saintonge, and gallant young Englishmen from beyond the seas.
Here too were the beautiful brunettes of the Gironde, with eyes
which out-flashed their jewels, while beside them rode their
blonde sisters of England, clear cut and aquiline, swathed in
swans'-down and in ermine, for the air was biting though the sun
was bright. Slowly the long and glittering train wound into the
lists, until every horse had been tethered by the varlets in
waiting, and every lord and lady seated in the long stands which
stretched, rich in tapestry and velvet and blazoned arms, on
either side of the centre of the arena.
The holders of the lists occupied the end which was nearest to
the city gate. There, in front of their respective pavilions,
flew the martlets of Audley, the roses of Loring, the scarlet
bars of Wake, the lion of the Percies and the silver wings of
the Beauchamps, each supported by a squire clad in hanging green
stuff to represent so many Tritons, and bearing a huge
conch-shell in their left hands. Behind the tents the great
war-horses, armed at all points, champed and reared, while their
masters sat at the doors of their pavilions, with their helmets
upon their knees, chatting as to the order of the day's doings.
The English archers and men-at-arms had mustered at that end of
the lists, but the vast majority of the spectators were in favor
of the attacking party, for the English had declined in
popularity ever since the bitter dispute as to the disposal of
the royal captive after the battle of Poictiers. Hence the
applause was by no means general when the herald-at-arms
proclaimed, after a flourish of trumpets, the names and styles of
the knights who were prepared, for the honor of their country and
for the love of their ladies, to hold the field against all who
might do them the favor to run a course with them. On the other
hand, a deafening burst of cheering greeted the rival herald,
who, advancing from the other end of the lists, rolled forth the
well-known titles of the five famous warriors who had accepted
the defiance.
"Faith, John," said the prince, "it sounds as though you were
right. "Ha! my grace D'Armagnac, it seems that our friends on
this side will not grieve if our English champions lose the day."
"It may be so, sire," the Gascon nobleman answered. "I have
little doubt that in Smithfield or at Windsor an English crowd
would favor their own countrymen."
"By my faith! that's easily seen," said the prince, laughing,
"for a few score English archers at yonder end are bellowing as
though they would out-shout the mighty multitude. I fear that
they will have little to shout over this journey, for my gold
vase has small prospect of crossing the water. What are the
conditions, John?"
"They are to tilt singly not less than three courses, sire, and
the victory to rest with that party which shall have won the
greater number of courses, each pair continuing till one or other
have the vantage. He who carries himself best of the victors
hath the prize, and he who is judged best of the other party hath
a jewelled clasp. Shall I order that the nakirs sound, sire?"
The prince nodded, and the trumpets rang out, while the champions
rode forth one after the other, each meeting his opponent in the
centre of the lists. Sir William Beauchamp went down before the
practiced lance of the Captal de Buch. Sir Thomas Percy won the
vantage over the Lord of Mucident, and the Lord Audley struck Sir
Perducas d'Albret from the saddle. The burly De Clisson,
however, restored the hopes of the attackers by beating to the
ground Sir Thomas Wake of Yorkshire. So far, there was little to
choose betwixt challengers and challenged.
"By Saint James of Santiago!" cried Don Pedro, with a tinge of
color upon his pale cheeks, "win who will, this has been a most
notable contest."
"Who comes next for England, John?" asked the prince in a voice
which quivered with excitement.
"Sir Nigel Loring of Hampshire, sire."
"Ha! he is a man of good courage, and skilled in the use of all
weapons."
"He is indeed, sire. But his eyes, like my own, are the worse
for wars. Yet he can tilt or play his part at hand-strokes as
merrily as ever. It was he, sire, who won the golden crown which
Queen Philippa, your royal mother, gave to be jousted for by all
the knights of England after the harrying of Calais. I have
heard that at Twynham Castle there is a buffet which groans
beneath the weight of his prizes."
"I pray that my vase may join them," said the prince. "But here
is the cavalier of Germany, and by my soul! he looks like a man
of great valor and hardiness. Let them run their full three
courses, for the issue is over-great to hang upon one."
As the prince spoke, amid a loud flourish of trumpets and the
shouting of the Gascon party, the last of the assailants rode
gallantly into the lists. He was a man of great size, clad in
black armor without blazonry or ornament of any kind, for all
worldly display was forbidden by the rules of the military
brotherhood to which he belonged. No plume or nobloy fluttered
from his plain tilting salade, and even his lance was devoid of
the customary banderole. A white mantle fluttered behind him,
upon the left side of which was marked the broad black cross
picked out with silver which was the well-known badge of the
Teutonic Order. Mounted upon a horse as large, as black, and as
forbidding as himself, he cantered slowly forward, with none of
those prancings and gambades with which a cavalier was accustomed
to show his command over his charger. Gravely and sternly he
inclined his head to the prince, and took his place at the
further end of the arena.
He had scarce done so before Sir Nigel rode out from the holders'
enclosure, and galloping at full speed down the lists, drew his
charger up before the prince's stand with a jerk which threw it
back upon its haunches. With white armor, blazoned shield, and
plume of ostrich-feathers from his helmet, he carried himself in
so jaunty and joyous a fashion, with tossing pennon and curveting
charger, that a shout of applause ran the full circle of the arena.
With the air of a man who hastes to a joyous festival, he waved
his lance in salute, and reining the pawing horse round without
permitting its fore-feet to touch the ground, he hastened back to
his station.
A great hush fell over the huge multitude as the two last
champions faced each other. A double issue seemed to rest upon
their contest, for their personal fame was at stake as well as
their party's honor. Both were famous warriors, but as their
exploits had been performed in widely sundered countries, they
had never before been able to cross lances. A course between
such men would have been enough in itself to cause the keenest
interest, apart from its being the crisis which would decide who
should be the victors of the day. For a moment they waited--the
German sombre and collected, Sir Nigel quivering in every fibre
with eagerness and fiery resolution. Then, amid a long-drawn
breath from the spectators, the glove fell from the marshal's
hand, and the two steel-clad horsemen met like a thunderclap in
front of the royal stand. The German, though he reeled for an
instant before the thrust of the Englishman, struck his opponent
so fairly upon the vizor that the laces burst, the plumed helmet
flew to pieces, and Sir Nigel galloped on down the lists with his
bald head shimmering in the sunshine. A thousand waving scarves
and tossing caps announced that the first bout had fallen to the
popular party.
The Hampshire knight was not a man to be disheartened by a
reverse. He spurred back to the pavilion, and was out in a few
instants with another helmet. The second course was so equal
that the keenest judges could not discern any vantage. Each
struck fire from the other's shield, and each endured the jarring
shock as though welded to the horse beneath him. In the final
bout, however, Sir Nigel struck his opponent with so true an aim
that the point of the lance caught between the bars of his vizor
and tore the front of his helmet out, while the German, aiming
somewhat low, and half stunned by the shock, had the misfortune
to strike his adversary upon the thigh, a breach of the rules of
the tilting-yard, by which he not only sacrificed his chances of
success, but would also have forfeited his horse and his armor,
had the English knight chosen to claim them. A roar of applause
from the English soldiers, with an ominous silence from the vast
crowd who pressed round the barriers, announced that the balance
of victory lay with the holders. Already the ten champions had
assembled in front of the prince to receive his award, when a
harsh bugle call from the further end of the lists drew all eyes
to a new and unexpected arrival.
