The Lances of Lynwood Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  The moon was at her height, and shone full into the half-opened tent ofSir Reginald Lynwood. At the further end, quite in darkness, theKnight, bare-headed, and rosary in hand, knelt before the dark-robedfigure of a confessor, while at a short distance lay, on a couch ofdeer-skins, the sleeping Leonard Ashton. Before the looped-up curtainthat formed the door was Gaston d'Aubricour, on one knee, close to ahuge torch of pine-wood fixed in the earth, examining by its flaringsmoky light into the state of his master's armour, proving every jointwith a small hammer. Near him, Eustace, with the help of John Ingram,the stalwart yeoman, was fastening his charge, the pennon, to a mightylance of the toughest ash-wood, and often looking forth on the whitetents on which the moonbeams shed their pale, tranquil light. Therewas much to impress a mind like his, in the scene before him: theunearthly moonlight, the few glimmering stars, the sky--whose southernclearness and brightness were, to his unaccustomed eye, doublywonderful--the constant though subdued sounds in the camp, the murmurof the river, and, far away in the dark expanse of night, the sparklingof a multitude of lights, which marked the encampment of the enemy.There was a strange calm awe upon his spirit. He spoke in a low voice,and Gaston's careless light-hearted tones fell on his ear as somethinguncongenial; but his eye glanced brightly, his step was free and bold,as he felt that this was the day that must silence every irritatingdoubt of his possessing a warrior-spirit.

  The first red streak of dawn was beginning to glow in the eastern sky,when the note of a bugle rang out from the Prince's tent and wasresponded to by hundreds of other horns. That instant the quietslumbering camp awoke, the space in front of every tent was filled withbusy men, arming themselves, or saddling their horses. Gaston andEustace, already fully equipped, assisted Sir Reginald to arm; Leonardwas roused, and began to fasten on his armour; the men-at-arms cameforth from their tent, and the horses were saddled and bridled; "Andnow," called Sir Reginald, "bring our last loaf, John Ingram. Keepnone back. By this day's eve we shall have abundance, or else nofurther need."

  The hard dry barley-bread was shared in scanty, but equal measure, andscarcely had it been devoured, before a second bugle blast, pealingthrough the camp, caused each mail-clad warrior to close his visor, andspring into the open plain, where, according to previous orders, theyarrayed themselves in two divisions, the first commanded by the Duke ofLancaster and Sir John Chandos, the second by Prince Edward and DonPedro.

  After a pause, employed in marshalling the different bands, the hostadvanced at an even pace, the rising sun glancing on their armour, andrevealing the multitude of waving crests, and streamers fluttering fromthe points of the lances, like the wings of gorgeous insects.Presently a wall of glittering armour was seen advancing to meet them,with the same brilliant display. It might have seemed some mightytournament that was there arrayed, as the two armies stood confrontingeach other, rather than a stern battle for the possession of a kingdom;and well might old Froissart declare, "It was a pleasure to see suchhosts."

  But it would be presumptuous to attempt to embellish a tale afterFroissart has once touched it. To him, then, I leave it to tell howthe rank of banneret was conferred on the gallant old Chandos, how thePrince prayed aloud for a blessing on his arms, how he gave the signalfor the advance, and how the boaster, Tello, fled in the firstencounter. The Lances of Lynwood, in the division of the Duke ofLancaster, well and gallantly did their part in the hard struggle withthe brave band of French, whose resistance was not overcome till theBlack Prince himself brought his reserved troops to the aid of hisbrother.

  With the loss of only one man-at-arms, the Lances of Lynwood had takenseveral prisoners. It was high noon, and the field was well-nighcleared of the enemy, when Sir Reginald drew his rein at the top of asteep bank clothed with brushwood, sloping towards the stream of theZadorra, threw up his visor, wiped his heated brow, and, patting hishorse's neck, turned to his brother, saying, "You have seen sharp workin this your first battle-day, Eustace."

  "It is a glorious day!" said Eustace. "See how they hurry to thewater." And he pointed over the low shrubs to a level space on thebank of the river, where several fugitives, on foot and horseback, werecrowding together, and pressing hastily forward.

  "Ha!" cried Sir Reginald, "the golden circlet! Henry of Trastamarehimself!" and at the same instant he sprang to the ground. "You," saidhe, "speed round the bushes, meet me at the ford they are making for."This was directed to Gaston, and ere the last words were spoken, bothSir Reginald and Eustace were already beginning to hurry down the bank.Gaston rose to his full height in his stirrups, and, looking over thewood, exclaimed, "The Eagle crest! I must be there. On,Ashton--Ingram, this way--speed, speed, speed!" and with these wordsthrew himself from his horse, and dashed after the two brothers, asthey went crashing, in their heavy armour, downwards through theboughs. In less than a minute they were on the level ground, and SirReginald rushed forward to intercept Don Enrique, who was almost closeto the river. "Yield, yield, Sir King!" he shouted; but at the samemoment another Knight on foot threw himself between, raising a hugebattle-axe, and crying, "Away, away, Sir; leave me to deal with him!"Enrique turned, entered the river, and safely swam his horse to theother side, whilst his champion was engaged in desperate conflict.

  The Knight of Lynwood caught the first blow on his shield, and returnedit, but without the slightest effect on his antagonist, who, thoughshort in stature, and clumsily made, seemed to possess giganticstrength. A few moments more, and Reginald had fallen at full lengthon the grass, while his enemy was pressing on, to secure him as aprisoner, or to seize the pennon which Eustace held. The two Squiresstood with lifted swords before their fallen master, but it cost onlyanother of those irresistible strokes to stretch Gaston beside SirReginald, and Eustace was left alone to maintain the struggle. A fewmoments more, and the Lances would come up--but how impossible to holdout! The first blow cleft his shield in two, and though it did notpierce his armour, the shock brought him to his knee, and without thesupport of the staff of the pennon he would have been on the ground.Still, however, he kept up his defence, using sometimes his sword, andsometimes the staff, to parry the strokes of his assailant; but thestrife was too unequal, and faint with violent exertion, as well asdizzied by a stroke which the temper of his helmet had resisted, hefelt that all would be over with him in another second, when hissinking energies were revived by the cry of "St. George," close athand. His enemy relaxing his attack, he sprang to his feet, and thatinstant found himself enclosed, almost swept away, by a crowd ofcombatants of inferior degree, as well as his own comrades as FreeLances, all of whose weapons were turned upon his opponent. A swordwas lifted over the enemy's head from behind, and would the next momenthave descended, but that Eustace sprang up, dashed it aside, cried"Shame!" and grasping the arm of the threatened Knight, exclaimed,"Yield, yield! it is your only hope!"

  "Yield? and to thee?" said the Knight; "yet it is well meant. Thesword of Arthur himself would be of no avail. Tiphaine was right! Itis the fated day. Thou art of gentle birth? I yield me then, rescueor no rescue, the rather that I see thou art a gallant youth. Hark you,fellows, I am a prisoner, so get off with you. Your name, bold youth?"

  "Eustace Lynwood, brother to this Knight," said Eustace, raising hisvisor, and panting for breath.

  "You need but a few years to nerve your arm. But rest a while, you arealmost spent," said the prisoner, in a kind tone of patronage, as helooked at the youthful face of his captor, which in a second had variedfrom deep crimson to deadly paleness.

  "My brother! my brother!" was all Eustace's answer, as he threw himselfon the grass beside Gaston, who, though bleeding fast, had raised hismaster's head, and freed him from his helmet; but his eyes were stillclosed, and the wound ghastly, for such had been the force of the blow,that the shoulder was well-nigh severed from the collarbone."Reginald! O brother, look up!" cried Eustace. "O Gaston, does helive?"

  "I have crossed swords with him before," said the prisoner.
"I grievefor the mishap." Then, as the soldiers crowded round, he waved themoff with a gesture of command, which they instinctively obeyed. "Back,clowns, give him air. And here--one of you--bring some water from theriver. There, he shows signs of life."

  As he spoke, the clattering of horses' feet was heard--all made way,and there rode along the bank of the river a band of Spaniards, headedby Pedro himself, his sword, from hilt to point, streaming with blood,and his countenance ferocious as that of a tiger. "Where is he?" washis cry; "where is the traitor Enrique? I will send him to join therest of the brood. Where has he hidden himself?"

  The prisoner, who had been assisting to life the wounded man out of thepath of the trampling horses, turned round, and replied, with markedemphasis, "King Henry of Castile is, thanks to our Lady, safe on theother side of the Zadorra, to recover his throne another day."

  "Du Guesclin himself! Ah, dog!" cried Pedro, his eyes glaring with themalignity of a demon, and raising his bloody weapon to hew downBertrand du Guesclin, for no other was the prisoner, who stood withfolded arms, his dark eyes fixed in calm scorn on the King's face, andhis sword and axe lying at his feet.

  Eustace was instantly at his side, calling out, "My Lord King, he is myprisoner!"

  "Thine!" said Pedro, with an incredulous look. "Leave him to myvengeance, and thou shalt have gold--half my treasury--all thy utmostwishes can reach--"

  "I give him up to none but my Lord the Prince of Wales," returned theyoung Squire, undauntedly.

  "Fool and caitiff! out of my path! or learn what it is to oppose thewrath of Kings!" cried Pedro.

  Eustace grasped his sword. "Sir King, you must win your way to himthrough my body."

  At this moment one of the attendants whispered, "_El Principe, SenorRey_," and, in a few seconds more, the Black Prince, with a fewfollowers, rode towards the spot.

  Hastily dismounting, Pedro threw himself on his knees to thank him forthe victory; but Edward, leaping from his horse, raised him, saying,"It is not to me, but to the Giver of victories, that you should returnthanks;" and Eustace almost shuddered to see him embrace theblood-thirsty monster, who, still intent on his prey, began the nextmoment, "Here, Senor Prince, is the chief enemy--here is the disturberof kingdoms--Du Guesclin himself--and there stands a traitorous boy ofyour country, who resolutely refuses to yield him to my just vengeance."

  As Pedro spoke, the Prince exchanged with Sir Bertrand the courteoussalutation of honourable enemies, and then said, in a quiet, gravetone, "It is not our English custom to take vengeance on prisoners ofwar."

  "My Lord," said Eustace, stepping forward, as the Prince looked towardshim, "I deliver the prisoner into your princely hands."

  "You have our best thanks, Sir Squire," said the Prince. "You are theyoung Lynwood, if I remember right. Where is your brother?"

  "Alas! my Lord, here he lies, sorely hurt," said Eustace, only anxiousto be rid of prisoner and Prince, and to return to Reginald, who bythis time had, by the care of Gaston, been recalled to consciousness.

  "Is it so? I grieve to hear it!" said Edward, with a face of deepconcern, advancing to the wounded Knight, bending over him, and takinghis hand, "How fares it with you, my brave Reginald?"

  "Poorly enough, my Lord," said the Knight, faintly; "I would I couldhave taken King Henry--"

  "Lament not for that," said the Prince, "but receive my thanks for theprize of scarcely less worth, which I owe to your arms."

  "What mean you, my Lord? Not Sir Bertrand du Guesclin; I got nothingfrom him but my death-blow."

  "How is this then?" said Edward; "it was from your young brother that Ireceived him."

  "Speak, Eustace!" said Sir Reginald, eagerly, and half raising himself;"Sir Bertrand your prisoner? Fairly and honourably? Is it possible?"

  "Fairly and honourably, to that I testify," said Du Guesclin. "Heknelt before you, and defended your pennon longer than I ever thoughtto see one of his years resist that curtal-axe of mine. The _routier_villains burst on us, and were closing upon me, when he turned back theweapon that was over my head, and summoned me to yield, which I did themore willingly that so gallant a youth should have such honour as maybe acquired by my capture."

  "He has it, noble Bertrand," said Edward. "Kneel down, young Squire.Thy name is Eustace? In the name of God, St. Michael, and St. George,I dub thee Knight. Be faithful, brave and fortunate, as on this day.Arise, Sir Eustace Lynwood."

  "Thanks, thanks, my gracious Prince," said Reginald, a light glancingin his fading eyes. "I should die content to see my brother's spurs sowell earned."

  "Die! Say not so, my faithful Reginald. Speed, Denis, and send hitherour own leech! I trust you will live to see your son win his spurs asgallantly!"

  "No, my good Lord, I am past the power of leech or surgeon; I feel thatthis is my death-wound. I am glad it was in your cause. All I desireis your protection for my wife--my boy--my brother--"

  "Your brother has earned it already," said Edward. "Your child shallbe as my own. But, oh! can nought be done? Hasten the surgeon hither!Cheer thee, Reginald!--look up! O! would that Du Guesclin were free,the battle unfought, so that thou wert but safe, mine own dearbrother-in-arms!"

  "Where is the Prince?" called a voice from behind. "My Lord, my Lord,if you come not speedily, there will be foul slaughter made among theprisoners by your Spanish butcher--King I would say."

  "I come, I come, Chandos," answered Edward. "Fare thee well, my braveReginald; and you, my new-made Knight, send tidings to my tent how itis with him."

  He pressed Reginald's hand, and sighing deeply, mounted his horse, androde off with Sir John Chandos, leaving the wounded Knight to the careof his own followers.

  The stream of blood was flowing fast, life was ebbing away, and SirReginald's breath was failing, as Eustace, relieving Gaston from hisweight, laid his head on his breast, and laved his brow with water fromthe river. "You have done gallantly, my brave brother; I did wrong todoubt your spirit. Thanks be to God that I can die in peace, sure thatArthur has in you a true and loving guardian. You are young, Eustace,but my trust in you is firm. You will train him in all Christian andgodly ways--"

  "It shall be the most sacred charge of my life," said Eustace, scarcelyable to speak.

  "I know it," said Reginald, and making an effort to raise his voice, hecontinued, "Bear witness, all of you, that I leave my son in thewardship of the King, and of my brother, Sir Eustace Lynwood. And,"added he, earnestly, "beware of Fulk Clarenham. Commend me to my sweetEleanor; tell her she is the last, as the first in my thoughts." Then,after a pause, "Is Gaston here?"

  "Yes, Sir Reginald," said Gaston, leaning over him, and pressing thehand which he feebly raised.

  "Gaston, farewell, and thanks to you for your true and loving service.Eustace will find wherewith to recompense you in some sort, in my chestat Bordeaux, and my brave Lances likewise. And, Gaston, go not back tothe courses and comrades whence I took you. On the word of a dying man,it will be better for you when you are in this case. Leonard, striveto be a true and brave man, though I may not fulfil your father'strust. Eustace--my eyes grow dim--is this you supporting my head--arethese your tears? Weep not for me, brother. Save for my poor Eleanor,I would not have it otherwise. Mercy is sure! Hold up the blessedrood--the sign of grace--you are half a clerk, repeat me some holypsalm or prayer."

  Eustace raised the cross hilt of his sword, and with a broken voice,commenced the _Miserere_. Sir Reginald at first followed it with hislips, but soon they ceased to move, his head sank back, his hand fellpowerless, and with one long gasping breath his faithful and noblespirit departed. For several moments Eustace silently continued tohold the lifeless form in his arms, then raising the face, he imprintedan earnest kiss on the pale lips, laid the head reverently on theground, hung over it for a short space, and at last, with an effort,passed his hand over his face, and turned away.

  His first look was towards d'Aubricour, who sat resting his head on hishand, his elbow supported on his knee, w
hile with the other hand hedashed away his tears. His countenance was deathly pale, and drops ofblood were fast falling from the deep gash in his side. "O Gaston!"exclaimed Eustace, with a feeling of self-reproach at having forgottenhim, "I fear you are badly wounded!"

  "You would think little of it, had you seen more stricken fields, youngKnight," said Gaston, attempting to smile; "I am only spent with lossof blood. Bring me a draught of water, and I can ride back to thetent. But look to your prisoner, Sir Eustace."

  Eustace turned to see what had become of his illustrious captive, andsaw him at a little distance, speaking to a Knight on horseback. "SirEustace," said Bertrand, stepping towards him, "here is Sir WilliamBeauchamp, sent by the Prince to inquire for your gallant brother, andto summon me to his tent. I leave you the more willingly that I thinkyou have no mind for guests this evening. Farewell. I hope to bebetter acquainted."

  Eustace had little heart to answer, but he took up Du Guesclin's sword,as if to return it to him. "Keep it, Sir Knight," said Bertrand, "youknow how to wield it. I am in some sort your godfather in chivalry,and I owe you a gift. Let me have yours, that my side may not bewithout its wonted companion. Farewell."

  "And, Sir Eustace Lynwood," said Sir William Beauchamp, riding up, "youwill advance to Navaretta, where we take up our quarters in the Frenchcamp. I grieve for the loss which has befallen us this day; but Itrust our chivalry has gained an equally worthy member."

  Eustace bowed and, whilst Messire Bertrand mounted a horse that hadbeen brought for his use, turned back to his own melancholy duties. Thebody of Sir Reginald was raised from the ground, and placed on thelevelled lances of four of his men, and Eustace then assisted Gaston torise. He tottered, leant heavily against the young Knight, and wasobliged to submit to be lifted to the saddle; but neither pain, grief,nor faintness could check his flow of talk.

  "Well, Eustace,--Sir Eustace, I would say,--you have seen somewhat ofthe chances of war."

  "The mischances you mean, Gaston."

  "I tell you, many a man in this host would have given his whole kindredfor such luck as has befallen you. To cross swords with Du Guesclin ishonour enough. This cut will be a matter of boasting to my dying day;but, to take him prisoner--"

  "Nay, that was no merit of mine. Had not the rest come up, my wars hadsoon been over, and I had been spared this grief."

  "I know what most youths would have done in your place, and beenesteemed never the worse. Dropped the pennon at that first round blowthat brought you to your knee, and called for quarter. Poor pennon, Ideemed it gone, and would have come to your aid, but before I couldrecover my feet, the fight was over, and I am glad the glory is whollyyours. Knighted under a banner in a stricken field! It is a chancewhich befalls not one man in five hundred, and you in your firstbattle! But he heeds me not. He thinks only of his brother! Look up,Sir Eustace, 'tis but the chance of war. Better die under sword andshield, than like a bed-ridden old woman; better die honoured andlamented, than worn out and forgotten. Still he has not a word! Yea,and I could weep too for company, for never lived better Knight, norone whom Squire had better cause to love!"