Philip Augustus; or, The Brothers in Arms

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER V.

Let us suppose a brief lapse of time and a slight change of scene. 'Twas the month of September; and though the mellow hand of autumn had already spread a rich golden tinge over field and wood, yet not a particle of summer's sparkling brilliancy seemed gone from the clear blue sky. 'Twas in the bright land, too, of merry Touraine, where migratory summer seems to linger longer than any where else; and, though the sickle had done its work, and the brown plains told that the year's prime was passed, yet there was a smile on the aspect of the land, as if it would fain have promised that the sweet days of the earth's life would be there immortal.

Over one of the wide open fields of that country, swelling gently with a soft undulating slope, and bordered, here and there, with low scattered woods, were seen to ride a gay party of horsemen, but few in number indeed, but with their arms glittering in the morning sun, their plumes waving in the breeze, and, in short, with all "the pomp and circumstance of war."

In faith, it was as fair a sight to see as the world can give--a party of the chivalry of that age. For them were all the richest habiliments reserved by law. Robes of scarlet, ornaments of gold, fine furs, and finer stuffs, were all theirs by right; and with their banners, and pennons, and their polished armour, their embroidered coats of arms, and their decorated horses, they formed a moving mass of animated splendour, such as the present day cannot afford to show.

The group we speak of at present wanted nothing that chivalry could display. At its head rode a fair youth, just in man's opening day; his eye sparkling, his cheek glowing, his lip smiling with the bursting happiness of his heart, at finding himself freed from restraint. Lord of himself, and entering on the brilliant career of arms, supported by knights, by nobles, and by kings, to strive for--not the ordinary stake of ordinary men--but for crowns, and thrones, and kingdoms.

Arthur Plantagenet wore his helmet still; as if the new weight of honourable armour was more a delight than a burthen to him; but the visor being open, his face was clearly exposed, and spoke nothing but hope and animation. His arms were all inlaid with gold, and over his shoulders he wore the superb surcoat of arms, which had been worked for him by the fair hands of Agnes de Meranie.

On the prince's right-hand rode Guy de Coucy, with his head still unarmed; and merely covered by a green velvet bonnet, with a jewel, and a plume of the feathers of the white egret, which had been bestowed upon him by the king on his joining the expedition at Paris. Neither did he ride his battle-horse--which, as when we first saw him, was led behind him by a squire--but was mounted on one of the Arabian coursers which he had brought with him from the Holy Land. He had, however, his tremendous long sword by his side, the tip descending to his heel, and the hilt coming up nearly to his shoulder; and, though at the bow of his war-saddle, on the other horse, hung his heavy battle-axe and mace, a lighter axe swung by his side. His gauntlets were on, his squires were close behind him; and by various other signs of the same kind, it might be inferred that the road he was now travelling was more likely to be hostilely interrupted, than that over which he had passed in Auvergne.

On Arthur's left-hand appeared in complete arms the famous warrior and troubadour, whose songs and whose deeds have descended honourably even to our days, Savary de Maulèon. As in the case of De Coucy, his casque was borne behind him; but, in other respects, he was armed cap à pié.

Of this knight one thing must be remarked, which, though it might seem strange, was no less true, and showed the madness of that age for song. Between himself and the squires who bore his casque and led his battle-horse, rode a tiny, beautiful boy, mounted on a small fleet Limousin jennet, and habited with all the extravagant finery which could be devised. In his hand, instead of shield, or lance, or implement of bloody warfare, he bore a small sort of harp, exactly of the shape of those with which the sculptors of that period have represented King David, as well as sundry angels, in the rich tympanums of many of the gothic church-doorways in France. This instrument, however, was not fully displayed on the journey, being covered with a housse, or veil of silver gauze, from which, such coverings often being applied to shields of arms, any one passing by might have mistaken it for some buckler of a new and strange form.

Behind this first group, who were followed immediately by their squires, came, at a little distance, a confused body of knights of lesser fame; in general, vassals of Savary de Maulèon, or of his friends; or others who, from disgust towards king John, had come over to the increasing party of his nephew. These were all well armed and equipped; and, though riding for the time in a scattered and irregular manner, it wanted but a word from their chiefs, to bring them into line, or hedge, as it was called, when, with their long lances, heavy armed horses, and impenetrable persons, they would have offered a formidable barrier against any attack.

A group of servants of arms followed these knights; and behind these again, with far more show of discipline, and covered with bright new armour, came two hundred Brabançois, with their old captain, Jodelle, at their head. Their horses were unarmed, except by an iron poitral, to resist the blow of a lance or a sword on the first assault. The riders also were but lightly harnessed, with cuirass, steel cap, and buckler; but, being intended principally to act either as horse-archers themselves, or against bodies of foot, they often proved the most serviceable troops in the army.

At the head of their line rode Hugo de Barre, bearing De Coucy's banner; while, armed something like a Brabançois, but more heavily, with the place of his favourite mare supplied by a strong black horse. Gallon the fool rode along the ranks, keeping the greater part of the soldiers in continual merriment. There were, it is true, some ten or twelve of them who knit their brows from under their iron caps at the jongleur as he passed; but the generality of the Brabançois laughed at his jest, or gave it him back again; and, indeed, no one seemed more amused or in better harmony with the mad juggler, than the captain Jodelle himself.

The whole party might consist of about five hundred men; and they moved on slowly, as if not very certain whether they might not be near some unseen enemy. The plain on which we have said they were, was unbroken by any thing in the shape of a hedge, and sufficiently flat to give a view over its whole surface; but, at the same time, the low woods that bordered it here and there might have concealed many thousand men, and the very evenness of the country prevented any view of what was beyond.

"Straight before you, beau sire!" said Savary de Maulèon, pointing forward with his hand. "At the distance of three hours' march, lies the famous city of Tours; and even now, if you look beyond that wood, you will catch a faint glance of the church of the blessed St. Martin. See you not a dark grey mass against the sky, squarer and more stiff in form than any of the trees?"

"I do, I do!--And is that Tours?" cried Arthur, each fresh object awakening in his heart that unaccountable delight with which youth thrills towards novelty--that dear brightness of the mind which, in our young days, reflects all things presented to it with a thousand splendid dazzling rays not their own; but, alas! which too soon gets dimmed and dull, in the vile chafing and rubbing of the world. "Is that Tours?" and his fancy instantly conjured up, and combined with the image of the distant city, a bright whirl of vague and pleasant expectations which, like a child's top, kept dizzily spinning before his eyes, based on an invisible point, and ready to fall on a touch.

"That is Tours, beau sire," replied the knight; "and I doubt not that there, what with all my fair countrymen of Anjou and Poitou, who have already promised their presence, and others who may have come without their promise, you will find knights enough for you to undertake at once some bold enterprise."

Arthur looked to De Coucy, under whose tutelage, as a warrior, Philip Augustus had in some degree placed the inexperienced prince. "Far be it from me," said the knight, "to oppose any bold measure that has the probability of success along with it; but, as a general principle, I think that in a war which is likely to be of long duration, when we expect the speedy arrival of strong reinforcements, and where nothing is to be lost by some delay, it is wise to pause, so as to strike the first strokes with certainty of success; especially where the prince's person may be put in danger by any rash attempt."

"By the blessed St. Martin!" cried Savary de Maulèon, "I thought not to hear the Sire de Coucy recommend timid delay. Fame has, as usual, belied him, when she spoke of his courage as somewhat rash."

De Coucy had, indeed, spoken rather in opposition to the general character of his own mind; but he felt that there was a degree of responsibility attached to his situation, which required the greatest caution, to guard against the natural daring of his disposition. He maintained, therefore, the same coolness in reply to the Poitevin knight, although it cost him some effort to repress the same spirit manifesting itself in his language which glowed warm on his brow.

"Sir Guillaume Savary de Maulèon," replied he, "in the present instance, my counsel to prince Arthur shall be to attempt nothing, till he has such forces as shall render those first attempts certain; and, as to myself, I can but say, that when you and I are in the battle-field, my banner shall go as far, at least, as yours into the midst of the enemies."

"Not a step farther!" said Savary de Maulèon quickly--"not a step farther!"

"That shall be as God pleases," answered De Coucy; "but, in the mean time, we are disputing about wind. Till we reach Tours, we cannot at all tell what assistance may wait us there. If there be sufficient force to justify us in proceeding to action, I will by no means dissent; but, if there be but few of our friends arrived, I will say, that man who advises the prince to attempt any thing yet, may be as brave as a lion, but seeks to serve his own vanity more than Arthur Plantagenet."

"How his own vanity, sir?" demanded Savary de Maulèon, ready to take offence on the slightest provocation.

"By risking his prince's fortunes," replied De Coucy, "rather than let others have a share in the harvest of glory before him. Ho, there!" he continued, turning to one of his squires, who instantly rode up.--"Bid Jodelle detach a score of his lightest men round the eastern limb of that wood, and bring me word what 'tis that glittered but now above the trees.--Go yourself too, and use your eyes."

The man obeyed, with the promptitude of one accustomed to serve a quick and imperative lord; and the little manœuvre the knight had commanded was performed with all the precision he could desire. In the mean while he resumed the conversation with Arthur and Savary de Maulèon, who--cooled by the momentary pause, and also somewhat soothed by something flattering, he scarce knew what, in the idea of the sort of avarice of glory De Coucy had attributed to him--replied to the young knight with more cordiality than he had at first evinced. In a very few minutes, the horsemen, who had been detached, returned at full gallop. Their report was somewhat startling. A large body of horse, they said, whose spear-heads De Coucy had seen above the low trees, were skirting slowly round the wood towards them. Full a hundred knights, with barbed horses and party pennons, had been seen. There appeared more behind; and the whole body, with the squires, archers, and servants of arms, might amount to fifteen hundred. No banner, however, was displayed; but one of the Brabançois declared, that he knew the foremost to be king John's Norman knights, by the fashion of their hauberts, and the pikes on their horses' heads.

"Give me my lance and casque!" cried De Coucy.--"Sir Savary de Maulèon, I leave the prince under your care, while I, with my Brabançois and followers, give these gentry the meeting at the corner of the wood. You would not be mad enough in this business to risk the prince with four hundred men and forty knights, against one hundred knights and fifteen hundred men!"

"Surely not," replied Savary de Maulèon; "but still I will go with you myself, beau sire."

"No! as you are a knight," cried De Coucy, grasping his hand, "I charge you, stay with the prince, cover his march to Tours; keep all the knights with you, for you will want them all. You start fair with the enemy--the distance is about equal to the city; and I promise you, that if they pass yon turn of the wood within this quarter of an hour, 'tis over my dead body--let it be so, sir knight, in God's name! The honour will rest with him who gets the prince safe to Tours. Is not that enough? You have the post of honour."

"And you the post of danger," said Savary de Mauléon, shaking his head.

"Mind not you that!" cried De Coucy, whose casque was by this time fixed. "If these be Normans, there will be danger and honour enough too, before you reach Tours!" and grasping his lance, he fell back to the band of Brabançois, put himself at their head, and galloped at full speed to the turning of the wood.

Before coming in sight of the enemy, however, De Coucy paused, and advancing so far alone as to gain a sight of them, he perceived that their numbers, though they had been somewhat exaggerated, were still too great to admit the chance of fighting them with any hope of success. His object, therefore, was to delay them on their march as long as he could; and then to retreat fighting, so as to cover the prince's march upon Tours. Accordingly he commanded the cotereaux to spread out in such a manner that the iron of their spears might just be seen protruding from the wood, and by patting his horse's neck, and touching him with the spur, he made him utter one or two loud neighs, for the purpose of calling the attention of the enemy, which the sound of their galloping thither did not seem to have done.

The stratagem had its effect: the whole body of horse, who were approaching, halted; and after a few minutes' consultation, a reconnoitring party was thrown out, who approached in front of De Coucys party, and fell back again instantly on their main body. "Ground your spears!" cried De Coucy; "unsling your bows; have each man his arrow on the string, and the string to his ear; and give them such a flight as shall dizzy them whenever they come near."

The Brabançois obeyed: each man rested his spear,--which, by the way, was distinguished in many respects from the knight's lance,--threw his bridle over his arm, and drew his bowstring to his ear; while De Coucy advanced a few paces, to observe the motions of the enemy. To his surprise, however, he observed half a dozen knights ride out, while the rest stood still; and in a moment after, displaying the banner of Hugues de Lusignan, they advanced at full speed, crying loudly, "Artus Anjou! Artus Anjou!"--the rallying cry which the knights of Anjou attached to the party of Arthur had adopted.

"Hold! hold!" cried De Coucy, waving his hand to his archers. "Here must be some mistake. These are friends." So, indeed, it proved; and on a nearer approach, De Coucy found that the body of troops which had caused the alarm, had in truth come forth from Tours, for the protection of Arthur, whom they had long known to be approaching with but a small force; while king John, with a considerable army, was reported to be ravaging the county of Maine. The cause of the mistake also was now explained. Some knights of Normandy, either moved by the justice of Arthur's claims, or disgusted with the weak levity and cowardly baseness of John, had crossed the country; and joining the troops of Hugues le Brun, and Godefroy de Lusignan, under the command of Ruoal d'Issoudun, Count d'Eu, had come out to give the sovereign they had determined to acknowledge welcome and protection.

These communications were much sooner made than they are written; and De Coucy, whose banner had been seen and recognised by the reconnoitring party, was received by the assembled knights with no small marks of honour and esteem. His troops had of course now to make a retrograde motion, but no great haste was necessary to overtake the body he had before left; for Savary de Mauléon had taken such good care that his retreat should not appear like a flight, that the messenger to De Coucy despatched to inform him of the change of aspect which affairs had undergone, reached the small body of knights who had remained with Arthur before they had proceeded half a mile.

The meeting of the two bands was a joyous one on both sides, and nothing was now talked of amongst the knights of Anjou and Poitou but proceeding instantly to active and energetic operations against the enemy. De Coucy was silent, well knowing that a council must be held on the subject after their arrival at Tours; and reserving his opinion for that occasion, though he well saw that his single voice would be drowned amidst the many, which were all eager to urge a course that, under any other circumstances, he would have been the first to follow, but which, where the stake was a kingdom, and the hazard great, he did not feel himself justified in approving.

While things were thus proceeding, in front of the army, the Brabançois, who now occupied a much less important station than when they formed, as it were, the main body of the prince's force, followed at some little distance in the rear. A few steps in advance of this troop rode Jodelle, particularly affecting to have no private communication with his men; but, on the contrary, sometimes riding up to Hugo de Barre, who bore De Coucys standard on the right, and with whom he had become a great favourite; and sometimes jesting with Gallon the fool, whose regard he strove not a little to cultivate, though it was not less difficult to ascertain exactly which way the cracked juggler's esteem turned, than it was to win his affection at all, which was no easy task.

"Ha, ha! sire Jodelle!" cried Gallon, coming close to him, as they began to move forward towards Tours--"Haw, haw! A goodly body of prisoners our lord has taken to-day!" and he pointed to the band of knights which had so lately joined their own. "And yet," added Gallon, bringing his two eyes to bear with a sly leer upon Jodelle's face, "our lord does not often make prisoners. He contents himself with dashing his foemen's brains out with his battle-axe, as he did in Auvergne."

Jodelle grasped his sword, and muttered something to himself. Gallon's eyes, however, were like the orbs in an orrery, for an instant close together, and then, by some unapparent machinery, thrown far apart; and before Jodelle could determine what their first expression meant, they were straggling out again on each side of the head in which they were placed, and the shrewd meaning leer was changed at once into the most broad senseless vacancy.

"Oh! it would have done your heart good, sire Jodelle," continued the jongleur, "to see how he hewed their noddles.--Haw, haw! Oh, rare!--But, as I was saying," continued he, in his flighty, rambling way, "yours must be a merry trade, and a thriving."

"Ours is no trade, maître Gallon," replied Jodelle, speaking calmly, to conceal no very amicable sensations which he felt towards the jongleur--"ours is no trade; 'tis a profession,--the noble profession of arms."

"No trade!" exclaimed Gallon.--"Haw, haw! Haw, haw! If you make no trade of it, with such merchandise as you have, you are not fit to hold a sow by the ear, or soap a cat's tail. Why! Do you not buy and sell?"

"Buy and sell!" said Jodelle, pondering. "Faith! I am heavy this morning. What should I buy or sell, either?"

"Lord now! Lord now!" cried Gallon, holding up both his hands. "To think that there is another man in all the world so stupid as my master and myself!--What should you buy and sell? Why, what better merchandise would you desire to sell to King John," he added, making his horse sidle up against the chief of the Brabançois, so that he could speak without being overheard by any one else,--"what better merchandise would you desire to sell to king John, than that fat flock of sheep before you, with the young ram, and his golden fleece, at the head of them;--and what would you desire better to buy, than white English silver, and yellow English gold?"

Jodelle looked in his face, to see if he could gather any thing from that; but all was one flat, dead blank; even his very nose was still and meaningless--one might as well have expected such words of devilish cunning from a stone wall.

"But my oath--my honour!" cried Jodelle, gazing on him still.

"Your oath!--Haw, haw!" shouted Gallon, convulsed with laughter,--"your honour!--Haw, haw! haw, haw! haw, haw!" And rolling about, as if he would have fallen from his horse, he galloped on, shouting, and roaring, and laughing, and screaming, till there was not a man in the array who did not turn his head to look at the strange being who dared to interrupt with such obstreperous merriment their leader's conversation.

De Coucy well knew the sounds, and turned to chide; but Arthur, who had been before amused with Gallon's humour, called him to approach for the purpose of jesting with him, with that boyish susceptibility of absurdities which characterised the age.

Gallon was as much at his ease amongst princes and barons as amongst peasants and serving men; and, seeming to forget all that he had just been speaking of, he dashed off into some new strain of eccentricity better suited to his auditors.

Jodelle, who, trembling for the result, had so far forgot himself as to ride on to listen, now rendered secure by the juggler's flighty change of topic, dropped back into the rear, and the whole cavalcade moved gently on to Tours.

While preparing for the prince's banquet in the evening, the place at De Coucy's elbow was filled by Gallon the fool, who somewhat in a more sane and placable humour than usual, amused his lord with various tales and anecdotes, neither so disjointed nor so disfigured as his relations usually were. The last, however, which he thought fit to tell--what he had overheard through the unglazed window of the hermit's cell on the night before the party of Arthur quitted Paris, caused De Coucy instantly to write a few words to the Count d'Auvergne, and putting it in the hands of his page, he bade him ride for his life, and deliver the letter wherever he should find the count, were it even in the presence of the king himself. The fatigued state of the horses prevented the lad from setting out that night, but by daylight next morning he was in the saddle, and away upon a journey which we may have cause to trace more particularly hereafter.