XXV. HOW THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL AT MAUPERTUIS
The morning of Sunday, the nineteenth of September, in the year of
our Lord 1356, was cold and fine. A haze which rose from the
marshy valley of Muisson covered both camps and set the starving
Englishmen shivering, but it cleared slowly away as the sun rose.
In the red silken pavilion of the French King - the same which had
been viewed by Nigel and Chandos the evening before - a solemn
mass was held by the Bishop of Chalons, who prayed for those who
were about to die, with little thought in his mind that his own
last hour was so near at hand. Then, when communion had been
taken by the King and his four young sons the altar was cleared
away, and a great red-covered table placed lengthwise down the
tent, round which John might assemble his council and determine
how best he should proceed. With the silken roof, rich tapestries
of Arras round the walls and Eastern rugs beneath the feet, his
palace could furnish no fairer chamber.
King John, who sat upon the canopied dais at the upper end, was
now in the sixth year of his reign and the thirty-sixth of his
life. He was a short burly man, ruddy-faced and deep-chested,
with dark kindly eyes and a most noble bearing. It did not need
the blue cloak sewed with silver lilies to mark him as the King.
Though his reign had been short, his fame was already widespread
over all Europe as a kindly gentleman and a fearless soldier - a
fit leader for a chivalrous nation. His elder son, the Duke of
Normandy, still hardly more than a boy, stood beside him, his hand
upon the King's shoulder, and John half turned from time to time
to fondle him. On the right, at the same high dais, was the
King's younger brother, the Duke of Orleans, a pale heavy-featured
man, with a languid manner and intolerant eyes. On the left was
the Duke of Bourbon, sad-faced and absorbed, with that gentle
melancholy in his eyes and bearing which comes often with the
premonition of death. All these were in their armor, save only
for their helmets, which lay upon the board before them.
Below, grouped around the long red table, was an assembly of the
most famous warriors in Europe. At the end nearest the King was
the veteran soldier the Duke of Athens, son of a banished father,
and now High Constable of France. On one side of him sat the
red-faced and choleric Lord Clermont, with the same blue Virgin in
golden rays upon his surcoat which had caused his quarrel with
Chandos the night before. On the other was a noble-featured
grizzly-haired soldier, Arnold d'Andreghen, who shared with
Clermont the honor of being Marshal of France. Next to them sat
Lord James of Bourbon, a brave warrior who was afterwards slain by
the White Company at Brignais, and beside him a little group of
German noblemen, including the Earl of Salzburg and the Earl of
Nassau, who had ridden over the frontier with their formidable
mercenaries at the bidding of the French King. The ridged armor
and the hanging nasals of their bassinets were enough in
themselves to tell every soldier that they were from beyond the
Rhine. At the other side of the table were a line of proud and
warlike Lords, Fiennes, Chatillon, Nesle, de Landas, de Beaujeu,
with the fierce knight errant de Chargny, he who had planned the
surprise of Calais, and Eustace de Ribeaumont, who had upon the
same occasion won the prize of valor from the hands of Edward of
England. Such were the chiefs to whom the King now turned for
assistance and advice.
"You have already heard, my friends," said he, "that the Prince of
Wales has made no answer to the proposal which we sent by the Lord
Cardinal of Perigord. Certes this is as it should be, and though
I have obeyed the call of Holy Church I had no fears that so
excellent a Prince as Edward of England would refuse to meet us in
battle. I am now of opinion that we should fall upon them at
once, lest perchance the Cardinal's cross should again come
betwixt our swords and our enemies."
A buzz of joyful assent arose from the meeting, and even from the
attendant men-at-arms who guarded the door. When it had died away
the Duke of Orleans rose in his place beside the King.
"Sire," said he, "you speak as we would have you do, and I for one
am of opinion that the Cardinal of Perigord has been an ill friend
of France, for why should we bargain for a part when we have but
to hold out our hand in order to grasp the whole? What need is
there for words? Let us spring to horse forthwith and ride over
this handful of marauders who have dared to lay waste your fair
dominions. If one of them go hence save as our prisoner we are
the more to blame."
"By Saint Denis, brother!" said the King, smiling, "if words could
slay you would have had them all upon their backs ere ever we left
Chartres. You are new to war, but when you have had experience of
a stricken field or two you would know that things must be done
with forethought and in order or they may go awry. In our
father's time we sprang to horse and spurred upon these English at
Crecy and elsewhere as you advise, but we had little profit from
it, and now we are grown wiser. How say you, Sieur de Ribeaumont?
You have coasted their lines and observed their countenance.
Would you ride down upon them, as my brother has advised, or how
would you order the matter?"
De Ribeaumont, a tall dark-eyed handsome man, paused ere he
answered. "Sire," he said at last, "I have indeed ridden along
their front and down their flanks, in company with Lord Landas and
Lord de Beaujeu, who are here at your council to witness to what I
say. Indeed, sire, it is in my mind that though the English are
few in number yet they are in such a position amongst these hedges
and vines that you would be well-advised if you were to leave them
alone, for they have no food and must retreat, so that you will be
able to follow them and to fight them to better advantage."
A murmur of disapproval rose from the company, and the Lord
Clermont, Marshal of the army, sprang to his feet, his face red
with anger.
"Eustace; Eustace," said he, "I bear in mind the days when you
were of great heart and high enterprise, but since King Edward
gave you yonder chaplet of pearls you have ever been backward
against the English!"
"My Lord Clermont," said de Ribeaumont sternly, "it is not for me
to brawl at the King's council and in the face of the enemy, but
we will go further into this matter at some other time.
Meanwhile, the King has asked me for my advice and I have given it
as best I might."
"It had been better for your honor, Sir Eustace, had you held your
peace," said the Duke of Orleans. "Shall we let them slip from
our fingers when we have them here and are fourfold their number?
I know not where we should dwell afterwards, for I am very sure
that we should be ashamed to ride back to Paris, or to look our
ladies in the eyes again."
"Indeed, Eustace, you have done well to say what is in your mind,"
said the King; "but I have already said that we shall join battle
this morning, so that there is no room here for further talk. But
I would fain have heard from you how it would be wisest and best
that we attack them?"
"I will advise you, sire, to the best of my power. Upon their
right is a river with marshes around it, and upon their left a
great wood, so that we can advance only upon the center. Along
their front is a thick hedge, and behind it I saw the green
jerkins of their archers, as thick as the sedges by the river. It
is broken by one road where only four horsemen could ride abreast,
which leads through the position. It is clear then that if we are
to drive them back we must cross the great hedge, and I am very
sure that the horses will not face it with such a storm of arrows
beating from behind it. Therefore, it is my council that we fight
upon foot, as the English did at Crecy, for indeed we may find
that our horses will be more hindrance than help to us this day."
"The same thought was in my own mind, sire," said Arnold
d'Andreghen the veteran Marshal. "At Crecy the bravest had to
turn their backs, for what can a man do with a horse which is mad
with pain and fear? If we advance upon foot we are our own
masters, and if we stop the shame is ours."
"The counsel is good," said the Duke of Athens, turning his shrewd
wizened face to the King; "but one thing only I would add to it.
The strength of these people lies in their archers, and if we
could throw them into disorder, were it only for a short time, we
should win the hedge; else they will shoot so strongly that we
must lose many men before we reach it, for indeed we have learned
that no armor will keep out their shafts when they are close."
"Your words, fair sir, are both good and wise," said the King,
"but I pray you to tell us how you would throw these archers into
disorder?"
"I would choose three hundred horsemen, sire, the best and most
forward in the army. With these I would ride up the narrow road,
and so turn to right and left, falling upon the archers behind the
hedge. It may be that the three hundred would suffer sorely, but
what are they among so great a host, if a road may be cleared for
their companions?"
"I would say a word to that, sire," cried the German Count of
Nassau, "I have come here with my comrades to venture our persons
in your quarrel; but we claim the right to fight in our own
fashion, and we would count it dishonor to dismount from our
steeds out of fear of the arrows of the English. Therefore, with
your permission, we will ride to the front, as the Duke of Athens
has advised, and so clear a path for the rest of you."
"This may not be!" cried the Lord Clermont angrily. "It would be
strange indeed if Frenchmen could not be found to clear a path for
the army of the King of France. One would think to hear you talk,
my Lord Count, that your hardihood was greater than our own, but
by our Lady of Rocamadour you will learn before nightfall that it
is not so. It is for me, who am a Marshal of France; to lead
these three hundred, since it is an honorable venture."
"And I claim the same right for the same reason," said Arnold of
Andreghen.
The German Count struck the table with his mailed fist. "Do what
you like!" said he. "But this only I can promise you, that
neither I nor any of my German riders will descend from our horses
so long as they are able to carry us, for in our country it is
only people of no consequence who fight upon their feet."
The Lord Clermont was leaning angrily forward with some hot reply
when King John intervened. "Enough, enough!" he said. "It is for
you to give your opinions, and for me to tell you what you will
do. Lord Clermont, and you, Arnold, you will choose three hundred
of the bravest cavaliers in the army and you will endeavor to
break these archers. As to you and your Germans, my Lord Nassau ,
you will remain upon horseback, since you desire it, and you will
follow the Marshals and support them as best you may. The rest of
the army will advance upon foot, in three other divisions as
arranged: yours, Charles," and he patted his son, the Duke of
Normandy, affectionately upon the hand; "yours, Philip," he
glanced at the Duke of Orleans; "and the main battle which is my
own. To you, Geoffrey de Chargny, I intrust the oriflamme this
day. But who is this knight and what does he desire?"
A young knight, ruddy-bearded and tall, a red griffin upon his
surcoat, had appeared in the opening of the tent. His flushed
face and disheveled dress showed that he had come in haste.
"Sire," said he, "I am Robert de Duras, of the household of the
Cardinal de Perigord. I have told you yesterday all that I have
learned of the English camp. This morning I was again admitted to
it, and I have seen their wagons moving to the rear. Sire, they
are in flight for Bordeaux."
"'Fore God, I knew it!" cried the Duke of Orleans in a voice of
fury. "Whilst we have been talking they have slipped through our
fingers. Did I not warn you?"
"Be silent, Philip!" said the King angrily. "But you, sir, have
you seen this with your own eyes?"
"With my own eyes, sire, and I have ridden straight from their
camp."
King John looked at him with a stern gaze. "I know not how it
accords with your honor to carry such tidings in such a fashion,"
said he; "but we cannot choose but take advantage of it. Fear
not, brother Philip, it is in my mind that you will see all that
you would wish of the Englishmen before nightfall. Should we fall
upon them whilst they cross the ford it will be to our advantage.
Now, fair sirs, I pray you to hasten to your posts and to carry
out all that we have agreed. Advance the oriflamme, Geoffrey, and
do you marshal the divisions, Arnold. So may God and Saint Denis
have us in their holy keeping this day!"
The Prince of Wales stood upon that little knoll where Nigel had
halted the day before. Beside him were Chandos, and a tall
sun-burned warrior of middle age, the Gascon Captal de Buch. The
three men were all attentively watching the distant French lines,
while behind them a column of wagons wound down to the ford of the
Muisson.
Close in the rear four knights in full armor with open visors sat
their horses and conversed in undertones with each other. A
glance at their shields would have given their names to any
soldier, for they were all men of fame who had seen much warfare.
At present they were awaiting their orders, for each of them
commanded the whole or part of a division of the army. The youth
upon the left, dark, slim and earnest, was William Montacute, Earl
of Salisbury, only twenty-eight years of age and yet a veteran of
Crecy. How high he stood in reputation is shown by the fact that
the command of the rear, the post of honor in a retreating army,
had been given to him by the Prince. He was talking to a grizzled
harsh-faced man, somewhat over middle age, with lion features and
fierce light-blue eyes which gleamed as they watched the distant
enemy. It was the famous Robert de Ufford, Earl of Suffolk, who
had fought without a break from Cadsand onward through the whole
Continental War. The other tall silent soldier, with the silver
star gleaming upon his surcoat, was John de Vere, Earl of Oxford,
and he listened to the talk of Thomas Beauchamp, a burly, jovial,
ruddy nobleman and a tried soldier, who leaned forward and tapped
his mailed hand upon the other's steel-clad thigh. They were old
battle-companions, of the same age and in the very prime of life,
with equal fame and equal experience of the wars. Such was the
group of famous English soldiers who sat their horses behind the
Prince and waited for their orders.
"I would that you had laid hands upon him," said the Prince
angrily, continuing his conversation with Chandos, "and yet,
perchance, it was wiser to play this trick and make them think
that we were retreating."
"He has certainly carried the tidings," said Chandos, with a
smile. "No sooner had the wagons started than I saw him gallop
down the edge of the wood."
"It was well thought of, John," the Prince remarked, "for it would
indeed be great comfort if we could turn their own spy against
them. Unless they advance upon us, I know not how we can hold out
another day, for there is not a loaf left in the army; and yet if
we leave this position where shall we hope to find such another?"
"They will stoop, fair sir, they will stoop to our lure. Even now
Robert de Duras will be telling them that the wagons are on the
move, and they will hasten to overtake us lest we pass the ford.
But who is this, who rides so fast? Here perchance may be
tidings."
A horseman had spurred up to the knoll. He sprang from the
saddle, and sank on one knee before the Prince.
"How now, my Lord Audley," said Edward. " What would you have?"
"Sir," said the knight, still kneeling with bowed head before his
leader, "I have a boon to ask of you."
"Nay, James, rise! Let me hear what I can do."
The famous knight errant, pattern of chivalry for all time; rose
and turned his swarthy face and dark earnest eyes upon his master.
"Sir," said he, "I have ever served most loyally my lord your
father and yourself, and shall continue so to do so long as I have
life. Dear sir, I must now acquaint you that formerly I made a
vow if ever I should be in any battle under your command that I
would be foremost or die in the attempt. I beg therefore that you
will graciously permit me to honorably quit my place among the
others, that I may post myself in such wise as to accomplish my
vow."
The Prince smiled, for it was very sure that vow or no vow,
permission or no permission, Lord James Audley would still be in
the van. "Go, James," said he, shaking his hand, "and God grant
that this day you may shine in valor above all knights. But hark,
John, what is that?"
Chandos cast up his fierce nose like the eagle which smells
slaughter afar. "Surely, sir, all is forming even as we had
planned it."
>From far away there came a thunderous shout. Then another and yet
another.
"See, they are moving!" cried the Captal de Buch.
All morning they had watched the gleam of the armed squadrons who
were drawn up in front of the French camp. Now whilst a great
blare of trumpets was borne to their ears, the distant masses
flickered and twinkled in the sunlight.
"Yes, yes, they are moving!" cried the Prince.
"They are moving! They are moving!" Down the line the murmur
ran. And then with a sudden impulse the archers at the hedge
sprang to their feet and the knights behind them waved their
weapons in the air, while one tremendous shout of warlike joy
carried their defiance to the approaching enemy. Then there fell
such a silence that the pawing of the horses or the jingle of
their harness struck loud upon the ear, until amid the hush there
rose a low deep roar like the sound of the tide upon the beach,
ever growing and deepening as the host of France drew near.
