CHAPTER XXXV.
HOW SIR NIGEL HAWKED AT AN EAGLE.
To the south of Pampeluna in the kingdom of Navarre there
stretched a high table-land, rising into bare, sterile hills,
brown or gray in color, and strewn with huge boulders of granite.
On the Gascon side of the great mountains there had been running
streams, meadows, forests, and little nestling villages. Here, on
the contrary, were nothing but naked rocks, poor pasture, and
savage, stone-strewn wastes. Gloomy defiles or barrancas
intersected this wild country with mountain torrents dashing and
foaming between their rugged sides. The clatter of waters, the
scream of the eagle, and the howling of wolves the only sounds
which broke upon the silence in that dreary and inhospitable
region.
Through this wild country it was that Sir Nigel and his Company
pushed their way, riding at times through vast defiles where the
brown, gnarled cliffs shot up on either side of them, and the sky
was but a long winding blue slit between the clustering lines of
box which fringed the lips of the precipices; or, again leading
their horses along the narrow and rocky paths worn by the
muleteers upon the edges of the chasm, where under their very
elbows they could see the white streak which marked the _gave_
which foamed a thousand feet below them. So for two days they
pushed their way through the wild places of Navarre, past Fuente,
over the rapid Ega, through Estella, until upon a winter's
evening the mountains fell away from in front of them, and they
saw the broad blue Ebro curving betwixt its double line or
homesteads and of villages. The fishers of Viana were aroused
that night by rough voices speaking in a strange tongue, and ere
morning Sir Nigel and his men had ferried the river and were safe
upon the land of Spain.
All the next day they lay in a pine wood near to the town of
Logrono, resting their horses and taking counsel as to what
they should do. Sir Nigel had with him Sir William Felton,
Sir Oliver Buttesthorn, stout old Sir Simon Burley, the Scotch
knight-errant, the Earl of Angus, and Sir Richard Causton, all
accounted among the bravest knights in the army, together with
sixty veteran men-at-arms, and three hundred and twenty archers.
Spies had been sent out in the morning, and returned after
nightfall to say that the King of Spain was encamped some
fourteen miles off in the direction of Burgos, having with him
twenty thousand horse and forty-five thousand foot.
A dry-wood fire had been lit, and round this the leaders
crouched, the glare beating upon their rugged faces, while the
hardy archers lounged and chatted amid the tethered horses, while
they munched their scanty provisions.
"For my part," said Sir Simon Burley, "I am of opinion that we
have already done that which we have come for. For do we not now
know where the king is, and how great a following he hath, which
was the end of our journey."
"True," answered Sir William Felton, "but I have come on this
venture because it is a long time since I have broken a spear in
war, and, certes, I shall not go back until I have run a course
with some cavalier of Spain. Let those go back who will, but I
must see more of these Spaniards ere I turn."
"I will not leave you, Sir William," returned Sir Simon Burley;
"and yet, as an old soldier and one who hath seen much of war, I
cannot but think that it is an ill thing for four hundred men to
find themselves between an army of sixty thousand on the one side
and a broad river on the other."
"Yet," said Sir Richard Causton, "we cannot for the honor of
England go back without a blow struck."
"Nor for the honor of Scotland either," cried the Earl of Angus.
"By Saint Andrew! I wish that I may never set eyes upon the water
of Leith again, if I pluck my horse's bridle ere I have seen this
camp of theirs."
"By Saint Paul! you have spoken very well," said Sir Nigel, "and
I have always heard that there were very worthy gentlemen among
the Scots, and fine skirmishing to be had upon their border.
Bethink you, Sir Simon, that we have this news from the lips of
common spies, who can scarce tell us as much of the enemy and of
his forces as the prince would wish to hear."
"You are the leader in this venture, Sir Nigel," the other
answered, "and I do but ride under your banner."
"Yet I would fain have your rede and counsel, Sir Simon. But,
touching what you say of the river, we can take heed that we
shall not have it at the back of us, for the prince hath now
advanced to Salvatierra, and thence to Vittoria, so that if we
come upon their camp from the further side we can make good our
retreat."
"What then would you propose?" asked Sir Simon, shaking his
grizzled head as one who is but half convinced.
"That we ride forward ere the news reach them that we have
crossed the river. In this way we may have sight of their army,
and perchance even find occasion for some small deed against
them."
"So be it, then," said Sir Simon Burley; and the rest of the
council having approved, a scanty meal was hurriedly snatched,
and the advance resumed under the cover of the darkness. All
night they led their horses, stumbling and groping through wild
defiles and rugged valleys, following the guidance of a
frightened peasant who was strapped by the wrist to Black Simon's
stirrup-leather. With the early dawn they found themselves in a
black ravine, with others sloping away from it on either side,
and the bare brown crags rising in long bleak terraces all round
them.
"If it please you, fair lord," said Black Simon, "this man hath
misled us, and since there is no tree upon which we may hang him,
it might be well to hurl him over yonder cliff."
The peasant, reading the soldier's meaning in his fierce eyes and
harsh accents dropped upon his knees, screaming loudly for mercy.
"How comes it, dog?" asked Sir William Felton in Spanish. "Where
is this camp to which you swore that you would lead us?"
"By the sweet Virgin! By the blessed Mother of God! cried the
trembling peasant, "I swear to you that in the darkness I have
myself lost the path."
"Over the cliff with him!" shouted half a dozen voices; but ere
the archers could drag him from the rocks to which he clung Sir
Nigel had ridden up and called upon them to stop.
"How is this, sirs?" said he. "As long as the prince doth me the
honor to entrust this venture to me, it is for me only to give
orders; and, by Saint Paul! I shall be right blithe to go very
deeply into the matter with any one to whom my words may give
offence. How say you, Sir William? Or you, my Lord of Angus?
Or you, Sir Richard?"
"Nay, nay, Nigel!" cried Sir William. "This base peasant is too
small a matter for old comrades to quarrel over. But he hath
betrayed us, and certes he hath merited a dog's death."
"Hark ye, fellow," said Sir Nigel. "We give you one more chance
to find the path. We are about to gain much honor, Sir William,
in this enterprise, and it would be a sorry thing if the first
blood shed were that of an unworthy boor. Let us say our morning
orisons, and it may chance that ere we finish he may strike upon
the track."
With bowed heads and steel caps in hand, the archers stood at
their horse's heads, while Sir Simon Burley repeated the Pater,
the Ave, and the Credo. Long did Alleyne bear the scene in
mind--the knot of knights in their dull leaden-hued armor, the
ruddy visage of Sir Oliver, the craggy features of the Scottish
earl, the shining scalp of Sir Nigel, with the dense ring of
hard, bearded faces and the long brown heads of the horses, all
topped and circled by the beetling cliffs. Scarce had the last
deep "amen" broken from the Company, when, in an instant, there
rose the scream of a hundred bugles, with the deep rolling of
drums and the clashing of cymbals, all sounding together in one
deafening uproar. Knights and archers sprang to arms, convinced
that some great host was upon them; but the guide dropped upon
his knees and thanked Heaven for its mercies.
"We have found them, caballeros!" he cried. "This is their
morning call. If ye will but deign to follow me, I will set them
before you ere a man might tell his beads."
As he spoke he scrambled down one of the narrow ravines, and,
climbing over a low ridge at the further end, he led them into a
short valley with a stream purling down the centre of it and a
very thick growth of elder and of box upon either side. Pushing
their way through the dense brushwood, they looked out upon a
scene which made their hearts beat harder and their breath come
faster.
In front of them there lay a broad plain, watered by two winding
streams and covered with grass, stretching away to where, in the
furthest distance, the towers of Burgos bristled up against the
light blue morning sky. Over all this vast meadow there lay a
great city of tents--thousands upon thousands of them, laid out
in streets and in squares like a well-ordered town. High silken
pavilions or colored marquees, shooting up from among the crowd
of meaner dwellings, marked where the great lords and barons of
Leon and Castile displayed their standards, while over the white
roofs, as far as eye could reach, the waving of ancients, pavons,
pensils, and banderoles, with flash of gold and glow of colors,
proclaimed that all the chivalry of Iberia were mustered in the
plain beneath them. Far off, in the centre of the camp, a huge
palace of red and white silk, with the royal arms of Castile
waiving from the summit, announced that the gallant Henry lay
there in the midst of his warriors.
As the English adventurers, peeping out from behind their
brushwood screen, looked down upon this wondrous sight they could
see that the vast army in front of them was already afoot. The
first pink light of the rising sun glittered upon the steel caps
and breastplates of dense masses of slingers and of crossbowmen,
who drilled and marched in the spaces which had been left for
their exercise. A thousand columns of smoke reeked up into the
pure morning air where the faggots were piled and the camp-kettles
already simmering. In the open plain clouds of light horse
galloped and swooped with swaying bodies and waving javelins,
after the fashion which the Spanish had adopted from their
Moorish enemies. All along by the sedgy banks of the rivers
long lines of pages led their masters' chargers down to water,
while the knights themselves lounged in gayly-dressed groups
about the doors of their pavilions, or rode out, with their
falcons upon their wrists and their greyhounds behind them,
in quest of quail or of leveret.
"By my hilt! mon gar.!" whispered Aylward to Alleyne, as the
young squire stood with parted lips and wondering eyes, gazing
down at the novel scene before him, "we have been seeking them
all night, but now that we have found them I know not what we are
to do with them."
"You say sooth, Samkin," quoth old Johnston. "I would that we
were upon the far side of Ebro again, for there is neither honor
nor profit to be gained here. What say you, Simon?"
"By the rood!" cried the fierce man-at-arms, "I will see the
color of their blood ere I turn my mare's head for the mountains.
Am I a child, that I should ride for three days and nought but
words at the end of it?"
"Well said, my sweet honeysuckle!" cried Hordle John. "I am with
you, like hilt to blade. Could I but lay hands upon one of those
gay prancers yonder, I doubt not that I should have ransom enough
from him to buy my mother a new cow."
"A cow!" said Aylward. "Say rather ten acres and a homestead on
the banks of Avon."
"Say you so? Then, by our Lady! here is for yonder one in the red
jerkin!"
He was about to push recklessly forward into the open, when Sir
Nigel himself darted in front of him, with his hand upon his
breast.
"Back!" said he. "Our time is not yet come, and we must lie here
until evening. Throw off your jacks and headpieces, least their
eyes catch the shine, and tether the horses among the rocks."
The order was swiftly obeyed, and in ten minutes the archers were
stretched along by the side of the brook, munching the bread and
the bacon which they had brought in their bags, and craning their
necks to watch the ever-changing scene beneath them. Very quiet
and still they lay, save for a muttered jest or whispered order,
for twice during the long morning they heard bugle-calls from
amid the hills on either side of them, which showed that they had
thrust themselves in between the outposts of the enemy. The
leaders sat amongst the box-wood, and took counsel together as to
what they should do; while from below there surged up the buzz of
voices, the shouting, the neighing of horses, and all the uproar
of a great camp.
"What boots it to wait?" said Sir William Felton. "Let us ride
down upon their camp ere they discover us."
"And so say I," cried the Scottish earl; "for they do not know
that there is any enemy within thirty long leagues of them."
"For my part," said Sir Simon Burley, "I think that it is
madness, for you cannot hope to rout this great army; and where
are you to go and what are you to do when they have turned upon
you? How say you, Sir Oliver Buttesthorn?"
"By the apple of Eve!" cried the fat knight, "it appears to me
that this wind brings a very savory smell of garlic and of onions
from their cooking-kettles. I am in favor of riding down upon
them at once, if my old friend and comrade here is of the same
mind."
"Nay," said Sir Nigel, "I have a plan by which we may attempt
some small deed upon them, and yet, by the help of God, may be
able to draw off again; which, as Sir Simon Burley hath said,
would be scarce possible in any other way."
"How then, Sir Nigel?" asked several voices.
"We shall lie here all day; for amid this brushwood it is ill for
them to see us. Then when evening comes we shall sally out upon
them and see if we may not gain some honorable advancement from
them."
"But why then rather than now?"
"Because we shall have nightfall to cover us when we draw off, so
that we may make our way back through the mountains. I would
station a score of archers here in the pass, with all our pennons
jutting forth from the rocks, and as many nakirs and drums and
bugles as we have with us, so that those who follow us in the
fading light may think that the whole army of the prince is upon
them, and fear to go further. What think you of my plan, Sir
Simon?"
"By my troth! I think very well of it," cried the prudent old
commander. "If four hundred men must needs run a tilt against
sixty thousand, I cannot see how they can do it better or more
safely."
"And so say I," cried Felton, heartily. "But I wish the day were
over, for it will be an ill thing for us if they chance to light
upon us."
The words were scarce out of his mouth when there came a clatter
of loose stones, the sharp clink of trotting hoofs, and a
dark-faced cavalier, mounted upon a white horse, burst through
the bushes and rode swiftly down the valley from the end which
was farthest from the Spanish camp. Lightly armed, with his
vizor open and a hawk perched upon his left wrist, he looked
about him with the careless air of a man who is bent wholly upon
pleasure, and unconscious of the possibility of danger.
Suddenly, however, his eyes lit upon the fierce faces which
glared out at him from the brushwood. With a cry of terror, he
thrust his spurs into his horse's sides and dashed for the narrow
opening of the gorge. For a moment it seemed as though he would
have reached it, for he had trampled over or dashed aside the
archers who threw themselves in his way; but Hordle John seized
him by the foot in his grasp of iron and dragged him from the
saddle, while two others caught the frightened horse.
"Ho, ho!" roared the great archer. "How many cows wilt buy my
mother, if I set thee free?"
"Hush that bull's bellowing!" cried Sir Nigel impatiently. "Bring
the man here. By St. Paul! it is not the first time that we have
met; for, if I mistake not, it is Don Diego Alvarez, who was once
at the prince's court."
"It is indeed I," said the Spanish knight, speaking in the French
tongue, "and I pray you to pass your sword through my heart, for
how can I live--I, a caballero of Castile--after being dragged
from my horse by the base hands of a common archer?"
"Fret not for that," answered Sir Nigel. "For, in sooth, had he
not pulled you down, a dozen cloth-yard shafts had crossed each
other in your body."
"By St. James! it were better so than to be polluted by his
touch," answered the Spaniard, with his black eyes sparkling with
rage and hatred. "I trust that I am now the prisoner of some
honorable knight or gentleman."
"You are the prisoner of the man who took you, Sir Diego,"
answered Sir Nigel. "And I may tell you that better men than
either you or I have found themselves before now prisoners in the
hands of archers of England."
"What ransom, then, does he demand?" asked the Spaniard.
Big John scratched his red head and grinned in high delight when
the question was propounded to him. "Tell him," said he, "that I
shall have ten cows and a bull too, if it be but a little one.
Also a dress of blue sendall for mother and a red one for Joan;
with five acres of pasture-land, two scythes, and a fine new
grindstone. Likewise a small house, with stalls for the cows,
and thirty-six gallons of beer for the thirsty weather."
"Tut, tut!" cried Sir Nigel, laughing. "All these things may be
had for money; and I think, Don Diego, that five thousand crowns
is not too much for so renowned a knight."
"It shall be duly paid him."
"For some days we must keep you with us; and I must crave leave
also to use your shield, your armor, and your horse."
"My harness is yours by the law of arms," said the Spaniard,
gloomily.
"I do but ask the loan of it. I have need of it this day, but it
shall be duly returned to you. Set guards, Aylward, with arrow
on string, at either end of the pass; for it may happen that some
other cavaliers may visit us ere the time be come." All day the
little band of Englishmen lay in the sheltered gorge, looking
down upon the vast host of their unconscious enemies. Shortly
after mid-day, a great uproar of shouting and cheering broke out
in the camp, with mustering of men and calling of bugles.
Clambering up among the rocks, the companions saw a long rolling
cloud of dust along the whole eastern sky-line, with the glint
of spears and the flutter of pennons, which announced the
approach of a large body of cavalry, For a moment a wild hope
came upon them that perhaps the prince had moved more swiftly
than had been planned, that he had crossed the Ebro, and that
this was his vanguard sweeping to the attack.
"Surely I see the red pile of Chandos at the head of yonder
squadron!" cried Sir Richard Causton, shading his eyes with his
hand.
"Not so," answered Sir Simon Burley, who had watched the
approaching host with a darkening face. "It is even as I feared.
That is the double eagle of Du Guesclin."
"You say very truly," cried the Earl of Angus. "These are the
levies of France, for I can see the ensigns of the Marshal
d'Andreghen, with that of the Lord of Antoing and of Briseuil,
and of many another from Brittany and Anjou."
"By St. Paul! I am very glad of it," said Sir Nigel. "Of these
Spaniards I know nothing; but the French are very worthy
gentlemen, and will do what they can for our advancement."
"There are at the least four thousand of them, and all men-at-arms,"
cried Sir William Felton. "See, there is Bertrand himself, beside
his banner, and there is King Henry, who rides to welcome him.
Now they all turn and come into the camp together."
As he spoke, the vast throng of Spaniards and of Frenchmen
trooped across the plain, with brandished arms and tossing
banners. All day long the sound of revelry and of rejoicing from
the crowded camp swelled up to the ears of the Englishmen, and
they could see the soldiers of the two nations throwing
themselves into each other's arms and dancing hand-in-hand round
the blazing fires. The sun had sunk behind a cloud-bank in the
west before Sir Nigel at last gave word that the men should
resume their arms and have their horses ready. He had himself
thrown off his armor, and had dressed himself from head to foot
in the harness of the captured Spaniard.
"Sir William," said he, "it is my intention to attempt a small
deed, and I ask you therefore that you will lead this outfall
upon the camp. For me, I will ride into their camp with my
squire and two archers. I pray you to watch me, and to ride
forth when I am come among the tents. You will leave twenty men
behind here, as we planned this morning, and you will ride back
here after you have ventured as far as seems good to you."
"I will do as you order, Nigel; but what is it that you propose
to do?"
"You will see anon, and indeed it is but a trifling matter.
Alleyne, you will come with me, and lead a spare horse by the
bridle. I will have the two archers who rode with us through
France, for they are trusty men and of stout heart. Let them
ride behind us, and let them leave their bows here among the
bushes for it is not my wish that they should know that we are
Englishmen. Say no word to any whom we may meet, and, if any
speak to you, pass on as though you heard them not. Are you
ready?"
"I am ready, my fair lord," said Alleyne.
"And I," "And I," cried Aylward and John.
"Then the rest I leave to your wisdom, Sir William; and if God
sends us fortune we shall meet you again in this gorge ere it be
dark."
So saying, Sir Nigel mounted the white horse of the Spanish
cavalier, and rode quietly forth from his concealment with his
three companions behind him, Alleyne leading his master's own
steed by the bridle. So many small parties of French and Spanish
horse were sweeping hither and thither that the small band
attracted little notice, and making its way at a gentle trot
across the plain, they came as far as the camp without challenge
or hindrance. On and on they pushed past the endless lines of
tents, amid the dense swarms of horsemen and of footmen, until
the huge royal pavilion stretched in front of them. They were
close upon it when of a sudden there broke out a wild hubbub from
a distant portion of the camp, with screams and war-cries and all
the wild tumult of battle. At the sound soldiers came rushing
from their tents, knights shouted loudly for their squires, and
there was mad turmoil on every hand of bewildered men and
plunging horses. At the royal tent a crowd of gorgeously dressed
servants ran hither and thither in helpless panic for the guard
of soldiers who were stationed there had already ridden off in
the direction of the alarm. A man-at-arms on either side of the
doorway were the sole protectors of the royal dwelling.
"I have come for the king," whispered Sir Nigel; "and, by Saint
Paul! he must back with us or I must bide here."
Alleyne and Aylward sprang from their horses, and flew at the two
sentries, who were disarmed and beaten down in an instant by so
furious and unexpected an attack. Sir Nigel dashed into the
royal tent, and was followed by Hordle John as soon as the horses
had been secured. From within came wild screamings and the clash
of steel, and then the two emerged once more, their swords and
forearms reddened with blood, while John bore over his shoulder
the senseless body of a man whose gay surcoat, adorned with the
lions and towers of Castile, proclaimed him to belong to the
royal house. A crowd of white-faced sewers and pages swarmed at
their heels, those behind pushing forwards, while the foremost
shrank back from the fierce faces and reeking weapons of the
adventurers. The senseless body was thrown across the spare
horse, the four sprang to their saddles, and away they thundered
with loose reins and busy spurs through the swarming camp.
But confusion and disorder still reigned among the Spaniards for
Sir William Felton and his men had swept through half their camp,
leaving a long litter of the dead and the dying to mark their
course. Uncertain who were their attackers, and unable to tell
their English enemies from their newly-arrived Breton allies, the
Spanish knights rode wildly hither and thither in aimless fury.
The mad turmoil, the mixture of races, and the fading light, were
all in favor of the four who alone knew their own purpose among
the vast uncertain multitude. Twice ere they reached open ground
they had to break their way through small bodies of horses, and
once there came a whistle of arrows and singing of stones about
their ears; but, still dashing onwards, they shot out from among
the tents and found their own comrades retreating for the
mountains at no very great distance from them. Another five
minutes of wild galloping over the plain, and they were all back
in their gorge, while their pursuers fell back before the rolling
of drums and blare of trumpets, which seemed to proclaim that the
whole army of the prince was about to emerge from the mountain
passes.
"By my soul! Nigel," cried Sir Oliver, waving a great boiled ham
over his head, "I have come by something which I may eat with my
truffles! I had a hard fight for it, for there were three of
them with their mouths open and the knives in their hands, all
sitting agape round the table, when I rushed in upon them. How
say you, Sir William, will you not try the smack of the famed
Spanish swine, though we have but the brook water to wash it
down?"
"Later, Sir Oliver," answered the old soldier, wiping his grimed
face. "We must further into the mountains ere we be in safety.
But what have we here, Nigel?"
"It is a prisoner whom I have taken, and in sooth, as he came
from the royal tent and wears the royal arms upon his jupon, I
trust that he is the King of Spain."
"The King of Spain!" cried the companions, crowding round in
amazement.
"Nay, Sir Nigel," said Felton, peering at the prisoner through
the uncertain light, "I have twice seen Henry of Transtamare, and
certes this man in no way resembles him."
"Then, by the light of heaven! I will ride back for him," cried
Sir Nigel.
"Nay, nay, the camp is in arms, and it would be rank madness.
Who are you, fellow?" he added in Spanish, "and how is it that
you dare to wear the arms of Castile?"
The prisoner was bent recovering the consciousness which had been
squeezed from him by the grip of Hordle John. "If it please
you," he answered, "I and nine others are the body-squires of the
king, and must ever wear his arms, so as to shield him from even
such perils as have threatened him this night. The king is at the
tent of the brave Du Guesclin, where he will sup to night. But I
am a caballero of Aragon, Don Sancho Penelosa, and, though I be
no king, I am yet ready to pay a fitting price for my ransom."
"By Saint Paul! I will not touch your gold," cried Sir Nigel. "Go
back to your master and give him greeting from Sir Nigel Loring
of Twynham Castle, telling him that I had hoped to make his
better acquaintance this night, and that, if I have disordered
his tent, it was but in my eagerness to know so famed and
courteous a knight. Spur on, comrades! for we must cover many a
league ere we can venture to light fire or to loosen girth. I had
hoped to ride without this patch to-night, but it seems that I
must carry it yet a little longer."
