Philip Augustus; or, The Brothers in Arms

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XI.

During the wars in Normandy and Maine, John had been absent, but not inactive; and, what by his single power he could not bring about, he resolved to accomplish by coalition. Many causes of enmity towards Philip Augustus existed amongst all the monarchs by whose territories his kingdom was surrounded, and not less amongst his own immediate vassals; and John at once saw, that his only hope of ever regaining the feofs that Philip had wrested from him, was in joining his own power with those of every enemy of the French monarch, and hurling him, by their united efforts, from the throne.

The English sovereign found no opposition to these schemes of policy. Otho, emperor of Germany, had met in Philip an unceasing and irreconcileable adversary. Philip it was who had principally opposed his election; Philip it was who had raised candidate after candidate against him. Philip it was who had taken advantage of his late quarrels with the irritable pope; and had, even after his coronation, thrown in a rival, and placed the greater part of Upper Germany in the hands of Frederic of Sicily. Otho, therefore, thirsted for vengeance; and the proposal of a general confederacy against the French monarch but fulfilled his hopes and anticipated his efforts.

Ferrand, count of Flanders, was not less easily won to join the coalition. One of the greatest vassals of the crown of France, with territories more extensive than the royal domain itself, he had ever been jealous of Philip's increasing power, and had, by many a breach of his feudal duties, endeavoured to loosen the tie that bound him to his sovereign. By the example of John, however, he now began to see that such breach of duty would not pass unpunished. Views of ambition, too, joined themselves to hatred and fear. He saw prospects of independence, of sovereignty, and immense territorial aggrandisement, as the infallible consequence of Philip's overthrow; and he therefore was one of the first to put his name to the confederation. So great an alliance once established, thousands of minor princes joined themselves to it, eager to share the spoil. The dukes of Brabant and Lemburgh, the counts of Holland, Namur, and Boulogne, whether vassals of the king of France or not, all found some motive to unite against him, and some excuse to their own conscience, for throwing off the homage they had vowed.

In the mean time, the disaffection of Philip's vassals in the heart of his kingdom was great and increasing. The immense strides which the monarchical power had taken under his guidance; the very vast increase of authority they had themselves cast into his hands by their judgment against John: the extensive increase of absolute domain, which his prompt and successful execution of that judgment had given him, made each baron tremble for his own power; while, at the same time, Philip's protection of the communes, his interference in matters of justice and general right, and the appeal he granted in his court as supreme lord against the decisions of his great vassals, made each also tremble for the stability of the feudal system itself.

John took care to encourage discontent and apprehension. A thousand rumours were spread concerning Philip's views and intentions. Some declared that his ambitious mind would never be at peace till he had re-established the empire of Charlemagne--till he had broken the power of the barons, and wrested from their hands the administration of justice in their territories. Some said that his plans were already formed for throwing down their strongholds, and possessing himself of their lands; and there was not, in fact, a report, however extravagant, that could irritate the fears and jealousies of the nobles of France against their king, that was not cunningly devised, and industriously circulated.

Some believed, and some pretended to believe; and nothing was heard of, from all parts of the kingdom, but preparations for revolt.

In the mean while, Philip was, as we have already shown, steadily pursuing his operations against John, the more anxious for success, because he knew that one defeat would at once call the storm upon his head. He suffered himself not to be turned from the business he had in hand by threatenings of any kind, having secured what he considered sufficient support amongst his barons to repel his external enemies and punish internal rebellion. He saw too, with that keen sagacity which was one of his peculiar qualities, that passions were beginning to mingle themselves in the confederacy of his enemies, which would in time weaken their efforts, if not disunite them entirely. These passions were not those doubts and jealousies of each other, which so often overthrow the noblest alliances; but rather that wild and eager grasping after the vast and important changes which can only be brought about by the operation of many slow and concentring causes.

The designs of the confederates spread as they found their powers increase. Their first object had been but to make war upon Philip Augustus. Perhaps even the original proposal extended but to curb his authority, and reduce him to the same position with his predecessors. Gradually, however, they determined to cast him and his race from the throne; and, calculating upon the certainty of success, they proceeded by treaty to divide his dominions amongst them. Otho was assigned his part, John his, and Ferrand of Flanders claimed Paris and all the adjacent territory for himself. All laws and customs established by Philip were to be done away, and the feudal system restored, as it had been seen a century and a half before. Various other changes were determined upon; but that which was principally calculated to destroy their alliance, was the resolution to attack the power of the church, and to divide its domains amongst the barons and the knights.

John had felt the lash of a papal censure; and, though the ecclesiastical authority had been exercised for the purpose of raising Otho to the imperial throne, he also had since experienced the weight of the church's domination, and had become inimical to the sway by which he had been formerly supported. Nothing then was spoken of less than reducing the power of Rome, and seizing on the luxurious wealth of the clergy.

Innocent the pope heard and trembled; and, though he the very first had laid the basis of the confederacy against the French monarch, he now saw consequences beyond it, that made him use every effort to stop it in its career; but it was in vain. The hatreds he raised up against Philip in his own dominions--the fears he had excited, and the jealousies he had stimulated, were now producing their fruits; and a bitter harvest they promised against himself. At the same time, as he contemplated the approaching struggle, which was hurrying on with inconceivable rapidity to its climax, he beheld nothing but danger from whatever party might prove victorious. Over the King of France, however, he fancied he had some check, so long as the question of his divorce remained undecided, and consequently the usual doubts and hesitations of the church of Rome were prolonged even beyond their ordinary measure of delay.

The confederation had not been so silent in its movements but that the report thereof had reached the ears of Philip Augustus. Care had been taken, however, that the immediate preparations should be made as privately as possible, so that the first intimation that the troops of the coalition were actually in the field against him, was given by the movement of the Earl of Salisbury, upon Flanders.

After that moment, however, "post after post came thick as hail," announcing the various motions of the allies. A hundred and fifty thousand men, of all nations and arms, were already assembled on the banks of the Scheld. John of England was in arms in Poitou; and more than twenty strong places had submitted to him without a stroke. Otho's imperial banner was given to the wind; and fresh thousands were flocking to it every hour, as if his very Gothic name had called together the myriads of the North to a fresh invasion of the more civilised world.

At the same time, revolt and disaffection were manifest through every district of Languedoc; and some of the nearest relations and oldest friends of the French monarch swelled the ranks of his enemies. Such were the tidings that every courier brought; and such were the forces that threatened to overwhelm the kingdom of France and overthrow its throne.

It would be vain to say that Philip Augustus saw such a mighty combination against him without alarm; but it was not the alarm of a weak and feeble mind, which yields to difficulties, or shrinks from danger. No sooner did he hear the extent to which his enemies' preparations had been carried--an extent which he had not fully anticipated--than he issued his charter, convoking the ban and arrière ban of France to meet at Soissons, and calling to his aid all good men and true throughout his dominions.

Though far inferior in number to his enemies, the force he mustered was any thing but insignificant. Then appeared the gratitude of the communes towards the king who had enfrachised them. By their charters they were bound to furnish a certain number of armed men in times of need; but on this occasion there is every reason to believe that they far exceeded their quota.

Nor were the nobles and the knights a few who presented themselves at the monstre at Soissons. Seldom had France shown so brilliant a display of chivalry; and even their inferiority of number was more than compensated by their zeal and their renown in arms.

First passed before the monarch, as he sat on his battle-horse surrounded by the troops of his own domains, his faithful vassal, Eudes, Duke of Burgundy, followed by all his vassals, vavassours, and knights, with a long train of many thousand archers and men-at-arms from all the vast lands of his kingly dukedom.

Next came Thibalt of Champagne, yet in his green youth, but accompanied by his uncle Philip, and a contingent of knights and soldiers that was an army in itself. Then succeeded the Counts of Dreux, Auxerre, Ponthieu, and St. Paul, each with a long train of men-at-arms. De Coucy leading the troops of Tankerville, the Lords of Montmorency, of Malvoisin, St. Valary, Mareiul, and Roye, with the Viscount of Melun, and the famous Guillaume des Barres, followed after; while the troops willingly raised by the clergy, and the long trains of archers and men-at-arms furnished by the free cities, completed the line, and formed an army of more than eighty thousand men, all bedecked with glittering banners and dancing plumes, which gave the whole that air of splendour and pageant that excites enthusiasm and stimulates hope.

The king's eyes lightened with joy as he looked upon them; and conscious of his own great powers of mind to lead to the best effect the noble host before him, he no longer doubted of victory.

"Now," said he in his own breast, as he thought of all that the last few years had brought--the humiliation that the pope had inflicted on him--the agony of his parting from Agnes--the vow that had been extorted from him not to see her till the council had pronounced upon his divorce, if its sentence should be given within six months--the long delays of the church of Rome, which had now nearly protracted its deliberations beyond that period--the treason which the proceedings of Innocent had stirred up amongst his vassals, mingled with the memory of torn affections and many bitter injuries--"now! it shall be my turn to triumph, Agnes! I will soon be thine, or in the grave! and let me see the man, prelate or prince, who, when I have once more clasped thy hand in mine, shall dare to pluck it thence! Now, now!" he murmured,--"now the turn is mine!"

Detaching a part of his new-raised army to keep in check the forces of King John in Poitou, Philip Augustus, without a moment's delay, marched to meet the chief body of the confederates in Flanders.

All the horrors of a great and bloody warfare soon followed the bodies of plunderers and adventurers that went before the army, burning, pillaging, and destroying every thing, as they advanced beyond the immediate territories of the king. Nothing was beheld as the army advanced, but smoking ruins, devastated fields, and the dead bodies of women and children, mingled with the half-consumed carcasses of cattle, and the broken implements of industry and domestic comfort. It was a piteous and sad sight to see all the pleasant dwellings of a land laid waste, the hopes of the year's labour all destroyed; and the busy human emmets, that had there toiled and joyed, swept away as if the wing of a pestilence had brushed the face of the earth, or lying murdered on their desolate hearths.

Philip Augustus, more refined than his age, strove to soften the rigours of warfare by many a proclamation against all useless violence; but in that day such proclamations were in vain; and the very unsheathing of war's flaming sword scorched up the land before it struck.

In the mean while, the Imperial forces, now swelled to more than two hundred thousand men, marched eagerly to meet the king, and about the same time each army arrived within a few miles of Tournay.

Both chieftains longed for a battle, yet the ardour of Philip's forces was somewhat slackened since their departure from Soissons. Ferrand of Flanders and his confederates had contrived, with infinite art, to seduce some of the followers of the French monarch, and to spread doubt and suspicion over many others; so that Philip's reliance was shaken in his troops, and most of the leaders divided amongst themselves.

Such' continued the doubtful state of the royal army when Philip arrived at Tournay, and heard that the emperor, with all his forces, was encamped at the village of Mortain, within ten miles of the city; but still the king resolved to stake all upon a battle; for, though his troops were inferior, he felt that his own superior mind was a host; and he saw that, if the disaffection which was reported really existed amongst his barons, delay would but increase it in a tenfold degree.

The evening had come, all his preparations were over he had summoned his barons to council in an hour; and, sitting in a large chamber of the old castle of Tournay, Philip had given order that he should not be disturbed.

He felt, as it were, a thirst for calm and tranquil thought. The last few months of his existence had been given up to all the energy of action; his reflections had been nothing but eternal calculation--the combination of his own movements--the anticipation of his enemy's-- plans of battle and policy; and all the thousand momentary anxieties that press upon the general of a large and ill-organised army. He had thought deeply and continually, it is true; but he had not time for thoughts of that grand and extensive nature that raise and dignify the mind every time they are indulged. Though Agnes, too, was still the secret object that gave life and movement to all his energies--though he loved her still with that deep, powerful love that is seldom permitted to share the heart with ambition--though she, in fact, was his ambition's object, and though the battle to which he strode would, if won, place in his hands such power, that none should dare to hold her from him--yet he had scarcely hitherto had an instant to bestow on those calmer, sweeter, gentler ideas, where feeling mingles with reflection, and relieves the mind from petty calculation and workday cares. There are surely two distinct parts linked together in the human soul--feeling and thought:--the thought, that receives, that separates, that investigates, that combines;--the feeling, that hopes, that wishes, that enjoys, that creates.

Philip Augustus, however, felt a thirst for that calm reflection, wherein feeling has the greater shared and, covering his eyes with his hands, he now abandoned himself to it altogether. The coming day was to be a day of bloodshed and of strife,--a day that was to hurl him from a throne, or to crown him with immortal renown,--to leave him a corpse on the cold field of battle, or to increase his power and glory, and restore him to Agnes. He thought of it long and deeply. He thought of what would be Agnes' grief if she heard that her husband, that her lover had fallen before his enemies; and he wrung his own heart by picturing the agony of hers. Then again came brighter visions. Hope rose up and grew into expectation; and he fancied what would be her joy, when, crowned with the laurel of victory, and scoffing to shame the impotent thunder of the Roman church, he should clasp her once more in his arms, and bid her tread upon the necks of her enemies. Ambition perhaps had its share in his breast, and his thoughts might run on to conquest yet to come, and to mighty schemes of polity and aggrandisement; but still Agnes had therein a share. In the chariot of victory, or on the imperial throne, imagination always placed her by his side.

His dream was interrupted by a quick step, and the words, "My lord!" and, uncovering his eyes, he beheld Guerin advancing from behind the tapestry that fell over the door.

"What now, Guerin?" cried the king somewhat impatiently. "What now?"

"My lord," replied the minister, "I would not have intruded, but that I have just seen a fellow, who brings tidings from the enemy's camp, of such importance, I judged that you would willingly give ear to it yourself."

"Knowest thou the man?" demanded Philip: "I love not spies."

"I cannot say with any certainty, that I have before seen him, sire," replied Guerin, "though I have some remembrance of his face. He says, however, that he was foot-servant to Prince Arthur, who hired him at Tours; and he gives so clear an account of the taking of Mirebeau, and the subsequent disasters, that there is little doubt of his tale. He says moreover, that, being taken there with the rest, Lord Salisbury has kept him with him since, to dress one of his horses; till, finding himself so near the royal army, he made his escape like a true man."

"Admit him," said the king: "his tale is a likely one."

Guerin retired for a moment; and then returned, with a bony, powerful man, whose short cut hair, long beard, and mustachoes, offered so different an appearance to the face of anything like a Frenchman in those days, that Philip gazed on him with some doubts.

"How, fellow!" cried he; "thou art surely some Polack, no true Frenchman, with thy beard like a hermit's, and thy hair like a hedge-hog!"

The man's tongue, however, at once showed that he claimed France for his country justly; and his singular appearance he accounted for, by saying it was a whim of the Earl of Salisbury.

"Answer me then," said the king, looking upon him somewhat sternly. "Where were your tents pitched in the enemy's camp?--You will find I know their forces as well as you; and if you deceive me, you die."

"The tents of the Earl of Salisbury are pitched between those of the Count of Holland and the troops of the emperor, so please you, sire," replied the man boldly. "I came to tell you the truth, not to deceive you."

"You have spoken truth in one thing, at least," replied the monarch. "One more question," he continued, looking at some notes on the table,--"one more question, and thou shalt tell thy tale thy own way. What troops lie behind those of the Duke of Brabant, and what are their number?"

"The next tents to those of the Duke of Brabant," replied the man, "are those of the Duke of Lorraine, amounting, they say in the camp, to nine hundred knights and seven thousand men-at-arms."

"Thou art right in the position, fellow, and nearly right in the number," replied the king, "therefore will I believe thee. Now repeat the news that you gave to that good knight."

"May it please you, sire," replied the man, with a degree of boldness that amounted almost to affectation, "late last night, a council was held in the tent of the emperor; and the Earl of Salisbury chose me to hold his horse near the entrance of the tent,--for he is as proud an Englishman as ever buckled on spurs;--and, though all the other princes contented themselves with leaving their horses on the outside of the second guard, he must needs ride to the very door of the tent, and have his horse held there till he came out."

"By my faith! 'tis like their island pride!" said the king. "Each Englishman fancies himself equal to a prince. But proceed with thy tale, and be quick, for the hour of the council approaches."

"My story is a very short one, sire," replied the man, "for it was but little I heard. However, after they had spoken within the tent for some time in a low voice, the emperor's tongue sounded very loud, as if some one had opposed him; and I heard him say, 'He will march against us, whatever be the peril--I know him well; and then, at the narrow passage of Damarets we will cut them off to a man, for Sir Guy de Coucy has promised to embarrass their rear with the men of Tankerville;--and he will keep his word too!' cried the emperor loudly, as if some one had seemed to doubt it, 'for we have promised him the hand of his lady love, the daughter of Count Julian of the Mount, if we win the victory.'

"Ha!" cried the king, turning his eyes from the countenance of the informer to that of Guerin,--"ha! this is treason, indeed! Said they aught else, fellow, that you heard?"

"They spoke of there being many traitors in your host, sire," replied the man; "but they named none else but Sir Guy de Coucy; and just then I heard the Earl of Salisbury speak as if he were walking to the mouth of the tent. 'If Philip discovers his treason,' said he, 'he will cut off his head, and then your plan is nought.' Just as he spoke, he came out, and seeing me stand near the tent, he bade me angrily go farther off, so that I heard no more."

"Have Sir Guy de Coucy to prison!" said the king, turning to Guerin. "By the holy rood! we will follow the good Earl of Salisbury's plan, and have one traitor less in the camp!"

As he heard these words, the eyes of the informer sparkled with a degree of joy, that did not escape the keen observing glance of the king; but, wishing to gain more certain knowledge, he thanked him with condescending dignity for the news he had given, and told him to wait amongst the serjeants of arms below, till the council should be over, when the chancellor would give him a purse of gold, as a reward for his services. The man with a low reverence retired. "Follow, Guerin," cried Philip hastily. "Bid some of the serjeants look to him narrowly, but let them treat him well. Lead him to babble, if it be possible. However, on no account let him escape. Have this De Coucy to prison too, though I doubt the tale."

Guerin turned to obey; but, at that moment, the pages from without opened the doors of the chamber, giving entrance to the barons who had been called to the council.

A moment of bustle succeeded; and by the time that Guerin could quit the king, the man who had brought the information we have just heard was gone, and nowhere to be found.

So suspicious a circumstance induced Guerin to refrain from those strong measures against De Coucy which the king had commanded, till he had communicated with the monarch on the subject. He sent down, however to the young knight's quarters, to require his presence at the castle on business of import; when the answer returned by his squires was, that De Coucy himself, his squire Hugo de Barre, who had by this time been ransomed by his lord, his page, and a small party of lances, had been absent ever since the encampment had been completed, and no one knew whither they had gone.

Guerin knit his brows; for he would have staked much upon De Coucy's honour; but yet, his absence at so critical a moment was difficult to be accounted for. He returned to Philip instantly, and found the council still in deliberation; some of its members being of opinion that it would be better to march directly forward upon Mortain and attack the enemy without loss of time; and others, again strongly counselling retreat upon Peronne.

Many weighty arguments had been produced on both sides, and at the moment Guerin entered, a degree of silence had taken place previous to the king's pronouncing his final decision. Guerin, however, approached the monarch, and bending beside him, informed him, in a low voice, of what he had just heard.

The king listened, knitting his brows and fixing his eyes upon the table, till Guerin had concluded; then raising his head, and thinking for a moment, without taking any immediate notice of what the minister had said, he announced his decision on the point before the council.

"Noble lords," said he, "we have heard and weighed your opinions upon the conduct of the war; but various circumstances will induce us, in some degree, to modify both, or, rather, to take a medium between them. If we advance upon the enemy at Mortain, we expose ourself to immense disadvantage in the narrow passage by Damarets. This consideration opposes itself on the one hand; and on the other, it must never be said that Philip of France fled before his enemies, when supported by so many true and faithful peers as we see around us here;" and the monarch glanced his eagle eye rapidly from face to face, with a look which, without evincing doubt, gathered at once the expression of each as he spoke. "Our determination therefore is, early to-morrow morning to march, as if towards Lille; and the next day, wheeling through the open plains of that country, to take the enemy on their flank, before they are aware of our designs. By dawn, therefore, I pray ye, noble peers, have your men all arrayed beneath your banners, and we will march against our enemy; who, be assured, whatever fair promises he holds out, is not alone the enemy of Philip, but of every true Frenchman. You are fighting for your hearths and for your homes; and where is the man, that will not strike boldly in such a quarrel? For to-night, lords, adieu! To-morrow we will meet you with the first ray of the sun."

With these words the council broke up, and the barons took their leave and withdrew; some well contented with the king's plan, some murmuring that their opinion had not been conceded to, and some perhaps disappointed with a scheme that threatened failure to the very confederacy against which they appeared in arms.

"'Tis strange, Guerin! 'tis strange!" cried the king, as soon as his peers were gone, "We have traitors amongst us, I fear!--Yet I will not believe that De Coucy is false. His absence is unaccountable; but, depend on it, there is some good cause;--and yet, that groom's tale against him! 'Tis strange! I doubt some of the faces, too, that I have seen but now. But I will try them, Guerin--I will try them; and if they be traitors, they shall damn themselves to hell!"

As the king had commanded, with the first ray of the sun the host was under arms; and stretching out in a long line under the walls of Tournay, it offered a gay and splendid sight, with the horizontal beams of the early morning shining bright on a thousand banners, and flashing back from ten thousand lances.

The marshals had scarcely arrayed it five minutes, when the king, followed by his glittering train, issued forth from the castle, mounted on a superb black charger, and armed cap-à-pié. He rode slowly from one end of the line to the other, bowing his plumed helmet in answer to the shouts and acclamations of the troops, and then returned to the very centre of the host. Circling round the crest of his casque were seen the golden fleurs de lis of the crown of France; and it was remarked, that behind him two of his attendants carried an immense golden wine-cup called a hanap, and a sharp naked sword.

In the centre of the line the king paused, and raised the volant piece of his helmet, when his face might be seen by every one, calm, proud, and dignified. At a sign from the monarch, two priests approached, carrying a large silver cruise and a small loaf of bread, which Philip received from their hands; and, cutting the bread into pieces with the edge of the sword carried by his attendant, he placed the pieces in the chalice, and then poured it full of wine.

"Barons of France!" cried he, in a loud voice, which made itself heard to an immense distance,--"Barons of France! Some foul liar last night sent me word, that there were traitors in my council and rebels in my host. Here I stand before you all, bearing on my casque the crown of France; and if amongst you there be one man that judges me unworthy to wear that crown, instantly let him separate from my people and depart to my enemies. He shall go free and unscathed, with his arms and followers, on the honour of a king! But those noble barons who are willing to fight and to die with their sovereign, in defence of their wives, their children, their homes, and their country--let them come forward; and in union with their king, eat this consecrated bread, and taste this sacred wine; and cursed be he who shall hereafter forget this sign of unity and fellowship!"

A loud shout from the whole host was the first reply; and then each baron, without an exception, hurried forward before the ranks, and claimed to pledge himself as Philip had proposed.

In the midst of the ceremony, however, a tall strong man in black armour pushed his way through the rest, exclaiming--"Give me the cup! give me the cup!"

When it was placed in his hands, he raised it first to his head, without lifting the visor of his helmet; but, finding his mistake, he unclasped the volant hurriedly, and throwing it back, discovered the wild countenance of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne. He then raised again the cup, and with a quick, but not ungraceful movement, bowed low to Philip, and drank some of the wine.

"Philip, king of France, I am yours till death," he said, when he had drunk; and after gazing for a few moments earnestly in the king's face, he turned his horse and galloped back to a large body of lances, a little in the rear of the line.

"Unhappy man!" said the king; and turning to Guerin, he added--"Let him be looked to, Guerin. See who is with him."

On sending to inquire, however, it was replied, that the Count d'Auvergne was there with his vassals and followers, to serve his sovereign Philip Augustus, in his wars, as a true and faithful liegeman.

Satisfied, therefore, that he was under good and careful guidance, the king turned his thoughts back to other subjects; and, having briefly thanked his barons for their ready zeal, commanded the army to begin its march upon Lille.