EXTRACT FROM THE LIFE OF MESSIRE BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN.
(Referred to in the Note, p. [104].)
“One day the Prince of Wales was risen from dinner, and gone into a private chamber with his barons, who had been served with wine and spices. So they began to speak of many a bold deed of arms, of love–passages, of battles, and of prisons, and how St. Louis to save his life was made prisoner in Tunis, from whence he was ransomed for fine gold, paid down by weight. Until the Prince, who spoke without caution, said, ‘When a good knight well approved in battle is made prisoner in fair feat of arms, and has rendered himself, and sworn to abide prisoner, he should on no account depart without his master’s leave. And also one should not demand such portion of his substance, that he be unable to equip himself again.’ When the Sire de Lebret heard these words, he began to take heed, and said to him, ‘Noble Sire, be not angry with me if I relate what I have heard said of you in your absence.’ ‘By my faith,’ said the Prince, ‘right little should I love follower of mine sitting at my table, if he heard said a word against my honour, and apprised me not of it.’ ‘Sire,’ said he of Lebret, ‘men say that you hold in prison a knight whose name I well know, whom you dare not delyver.’ ‘It is true,’ said Oliver de Clisson, ‘I have heard speak of it.’ Then the Prince swore and boasted, ‘that he knew no knight in the world, but, if he were his prisoner, he would put him to a fair ransom, according to his ability.’ And Lebret said, ‘How then do you forget Bertrand du Guesclin, that he cannot get away?’ And when the Prince heard this, his colour changed; and he was so tempted by pride, anger, and disdain, that he commanded Bertrand to be brought before him; with whom he wished to make terms, in spite of all who had spoken of the matter, and would fain not let him be ransomed, unless they themselves should fix the amount. Then certain knights went and found Bertrand, who, to amuse himself and forget his weariness, was talking with his chamberlain. Which knights saluted him. And Bertrand arose towards them, and showed a fair seeming, saying ‘that they were come in good time.’ Then he ordered the aforesaid chamberlain to bring wine. The knights answered ‘that it was right fitting they should have much wine, good and strong; for they brought him good, joyful, and pleasant news with good will.’ Then one of them who was wise and discreet said, ‘that the Prince sent for him to appear in his presence, and he thought that he would be ransomed by help of those friends he had at court, who were many.’ ‘What say you?’ said Bertrand; ‘I have neither halfpenny nor penny, and owe more than ten thousand livres, that have been lent me, which debt has accrued in this city while I have been prisoner.’ One of them inquired of him, ‘How have you accounted for so much?’ ‘I will answer for that,’ said Bertrand; ‘I have eaten, drunk, given, and played at dice with it. A little money is soon spent. But if I be set free, I shall soon have paid it: he saves his money, and has it in good keeping, who shall for my help lend me the keys of it.’ And an officer who heard him said, ‘Sir, you are stout–hearted, it seems to you that every thing which you would have must happen.’ ‘By my faith,’ said Bertrand, ‘you are right, for a dispirited man is nothing better than beaten and discomfited.’ And the rest said, ‘that he was like one enchanted, for he was proof against every shock.’ Then he was brought to the chamber where was the Prince of Wales, and with him John Chandos, a true and valiant knight. And had they chosen to believe him, they would long before have disposed of the war: for he gave much good advice. And also there were Oliver de Clisson and other knights, before whom came Bertrand, wearing a grey coat. And when the Prince saw him, he could not keep from laughing, from the time he saw him. Then he said, ‘Well, Bertrand, how fare you?’ And Bertrand approached him, bowing a little, and said, ‘Sir, when it shall please you, I may fare better: many a day have I heard the rats and mice, but the song of birds it is long since I heard.[129] I shall hear them when it is your pleasure.’ ‘Bertrand,’ said the Prince, ‘that shall be when you will; it will depend only on yourself, so that you will swear, and make true oath, never to bear arms against me, nor these others, nor to assist Henry of Spain. So soon as you will swear this, we will fully set you free, and pay that you owe, and besides give 10,000 florins to equip you anew, if you consent to this; else you shall not go.’ ‘Sire,’ said Bertrand, ‘my deliverance then will not come to pass; for before I do so, may I lie by the leg in prison while I live. God willing, I will never be a reproach to my friends. For by Him who made the world, I will serve with my whole heart those whom I have served, and whose I have been from my outset. These are the good King of France, the noble Dukes of Anjou, of Berry, of Burgundy, and of Bourbon; whose I have been, as became me. But so please you, suffer me to go. For you have held me too long in prison, wrongfully and without cause; and I will tell you how I had gone from France, I and my people meaning to go against the Saracens. And so I had promised Hugh de Carvalay, intending to work out my salvation.’ ‘Why then went you not straight without stopping?’ said the Prince. ‘I will tell you,’ said Bertrand in a loud voice. ‘We found Peter,—the curse of God confound him! who had long since thrice falsely murdered his noble Queen, born of the noble line of Bourbon, and of the blood of my Lord, St. Louis, which lady was your cousin by the best blood in your body. Straightway then I stopped, to take vengeance for her, and to help Henry; for well I know, and surely I believe, that he is the right king and the true heir of Spain. And also to destroy, and put to an end, Jews and Saracens, of whom there are too many in these parts. Now through great pride you have come to Spain to the best of your ability, both through covetousness of gold and silver, and that you may have the throne after the death of Peter, who reigns wrongfully, by which journey you have, in the first place, injured your own blood, and troubled me and my people: whence it has come to pass, that after you have so ruined your friends, and you and your people have been all famished, and suffered great pain and labour, Peter has deceived you by cheating and trickery, for he has not kept faith nor covenant with you, for which, by my faith, I thank him heartily.’ When Bertrand had related his reasons, the Prince rose, and could not help saying that on his soul Bertrand was right, and the barons said that he had spoken truth. Then was there great joy stirring all round and about, and they said of Bertrand, one to another, ‘See there a brave Breton.’ But the Prince called, and said to him, ‘You shall not escape me without paying a good ransom; and yet it vexes me that you obtain such favour. But men say that I keep you prisoner because I fear you; and to the end that every one may cease to suspect this, and may know that I neither fear nor care for you, I will deliver you on payment of sufficient ransom.’ ‘Sir,’ said Bertrand, ‘I am a poor knight of little name, and not so born as that I should find help in plenty. And besides, my estate is mortgaged for purchase of war–horses, and also I owe in this town full ten thousand florins. Be moderate, therefore, and deliver, me.’ ‘Where will you go, fair Sir?’ said the Prince. ‘Sir,’ said Bertrand, ‘I will go where I may regain my loss, and more I say not.’ ‘Consider then,’ said the Prince, ‘what ransom you will give me: for what you will shall be enough for me.’ ‘Sir,’ said Bertrand, ‘I trust you will not stoop to retract your meaning. And since you are content to refer it to my pleasure, I ought not to value myself too low. So I will give and engage for my freedom one hundred thousand double golden florins.’ And when the Prince heard him his colour changed, and he looked round at his knights, saying, ‘Does he mean to make game of me that he offers such a sum? for I would gladly quit him for the quarter.’ ‘Bertrand,’ said he, ‘neither can you pay it, nor do I wish such a sum; so consider again.’ ‘Sire,’ said Bertrand, ‘since you will not so much, I place myself at sixty thousand double florins; you shall not have less, sobeit you will discharge me.’ ‘Well,’ said the Prince, ‘I agree to it.’ Then said Bertrand loudly, ‘Sir, Prince Henry may well and truly vaunt that he will die King of Spain, cost him what it may, and he will lend me one half my ransom, and the King of France the other; and if I can neither go nor send to these two, I would get all the spinstresses in France to spin it rather than that I should remain longer in your hands.’[130] And when the Prince had heard him he thus said: ‘What sort of man is this? He startles at nothing, either in act or thought, no more than if he had all the gold which is in the world. He has set himself at sixty thousand double florins, and I would willingly have quitted him for ten thousand.’ And all the barons also marvelled greatly. ‘Am I then at liberty?’ said the gallant Bertrand. And Chandos asked him whence the money should come. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I have good friends, as I shall find, I am certain.’ ‘By my faith,’ said Chandos, ‘I am much rejoiced therefore, and if you have need of my help, thus much I say, I will lend you ten thousand.’ ‘Sir,’ said Bertrand, ‘I thank you. But before I seek anything of you I will try the people of my own country.’ The news of this matter went through the city of Bordeaux. There you might see all persons, great and small, citizens, and artisans of all sorts, run towards the mansion of the Prince to see Bertrand. And when the Prince’s knights saw the people assemble thus, and knew the cause of their coming, they brought the said Bertrand to lean out at a window, who laughed heartily at the matter. And when the commoners saw him from a distance, they said, ‘He is a downright enemy! cursed be the hour that he escapes alive. He has done much evil, and will do worse.’ And others said, ‘Have we idled and yawned, and run away from our business, to look at such a squire as this? May God bless him not! for he is an ugly fellow, and unable to pay the ransom at which he is valued.’ ‘Whence should he draw it?’ said others; ‘he will never pay a single penny of his own, but will pilfer it through the broad land.’ And those who knew Bertrand better said to them, ‘Now argue not so much in using such words, for there is no better knight in the world, and none that better knows how to make war. And there is no castle, however strong, however high the rock on which it stands, that would not soon surrender if he went thither to assault it: and, throughout the kingdom of France, there is no man nor woman, however poor, who would not contribute, if he needed it, rather than that he should remain in prison.”[131]
