AULD MAITLAND.
There lived a king in southern land,
King Edward hight his name;
Unwordily he wore the crown,
Till fifty years were gane.
He had a sister's son o's ain,
Was large of blood and bane;
And afterward, when he came up,
Young Edward hight his name.
One day he came before the king,
And kneel'd low on his knee—
"A boon, a boon, my good uncle,
"I crave to ask of thee!
"At our lang wars, in fair Scotland,
"I fain hae wished to be;
"If fifteen hundred waled[[91]] wight men
"You'll grant to ride wi' me."
"Thou sail hae thae, thou sail hae mae;
"I say it sickerlie;
"And I mysell, an auld gray man,
"Array'd your host sall see."
King Edward rade, King Edward ran—
I wish him dool and pyne!
Till he had fifteen hundred men
Assembled on the Tyne.
And thrice as many at Berwicke[[92]]
Were all for battle bound,
Who, marching forth with false Dunbar,
A ready welcome found.
They lighted on the banks of Tweed,
And blew their coals sae het,
And fired the Merse and Teviotdale,
All in an evening late.
As they fared up o'er Lammermore,
They burned baith up and down,
Until they came to a darksome house;
Some call it Leader-Town.
"Wha hauds this house?" young Edward cry'd,
"Or wha gies't ower to me?"
A gray-hair'd knight set up his head,
And crackit right crousely:
"Of Scotland's king I haud my house;
"He pays me meat and fee;
"And I will keep my gude auld house,
"While my house will keep me."
They laid their sowies to the wall,
Wi' mony a heavy peal;
But he threw ower to them agen
Baith pitch and tar barrel.
With springalds, stanes, and gads of airn,
Amang them fast he threw;
Till mony of the Englishmen
About the wall he slew.
Full fifteen days that braid host lay,
Sieging Auld Maitland keen,
Syne they hae left him, hail and fair,
Within his strength of stane.
Then fifteen barks, all gaily good,
Met them upon a day,
Which they did lade with as much spoil
As they could bear away.
"England's our ain by heritage;
"And what can us withstand,
"Now we hae conquer'd fair Scotland,
"With buckler, bow, and brand?"
Then they are on to the land o' France,
Where auld King Edward lay,
Burning baith castle, tower, and town,
That he met in his way,
Untill he came unto that town,
Which some call Billop-Grace;
There were Auld Maitland's sons, a' three,
Learning at school, alas!
The eldest to the youngest said,
"O see ye what I see?
"Gin a' be trew yon standard says[[93]],
"We're fatherlesse a' three.
"For Scotland's conquer'd, up and down;
"Landmen we'll never be:
"Now, will ye go, my brethren two,
"And try some jeopardy?"
Then they hae saddled twa black horse,
Twa black horse, and a grey;
And they are on to King Edward's host,
Before the dawn of day.
When they arriv'd before the host,
They hover'd on the lay—
"Wilt thou lend me our king's standard,
"To bear a little way?"
"Where was thou bred? where was thou born?
"Where, or in what countrie?"
"In north of England I was born:
(It needed him to lie.)
"A knight me gat, a lady bore,
"I'm a squire of high renowne;
I well may bear't to any king,
"That ever yet wore crowne."
"He ne'er came of an Englishman,
"Had sic an e'e or bree;
"But thou art the likest Auld Maitland,
"That ever I did see.
"But sick a gloom, on ae brow-head,
"Grant I ne'er see agane!
"For mony of our men he slew,
"And mony put to pain."
When Maitland heard his father's name,
An angry man was he!
Then, lifting up a gilt dagger,
Hung low down by his knee,
He stabb'd the knight, the standard bore,
He stabb'd him cruellie;
Then caught the standard by the neuk,
And fast away rode he.
"Now, is't na time, brothers," he cried,
"Now, is't na time to flee?"
"Aye, by my sooth!" they baith replied,
"We'll bear you company."
The youngest turn'd him in a path,
And drew a burnished brand,
And fifteen of the foremost slew,
Till back the lave did stand.
He spurr'd the gray into the path,
Till baith his sides they bled—
"Gray! thou maun carry me away,
"Or my life lies in wad!"
The captain lookit ower the wa',
About the break o' day;
There he beheld the three Scots lads,
Pursued along the way.
"Pull up portcullize! down draw-brigg!
"My nephews are at hand;
And they sall lodge wi' me to-night,
"In spite of all England."
Whene'er they came within the yate,
They thrust their horse them frae,
And took three lang spears in their hands,
Saying, "Here sall come nae mae!".
And they shot out, and they shot in,
Till it was fairly day;
When mony of the Englishmen
About the draw-brigg lay.
Then they hae yoked carts and wains,
To ca' their dead away,
And shot auld dykes aboon the lave,
In gutters where they lay.
The king, at his pavilion door,
Was heard aloud to say,
"Last night, three o' the lads o' France
"My standard stole away.
"Wi' a fause tale, disguised, they came,
"And wi' a fauser trayne;
"And to regain my gaye standard,
"These men were a' down slayne."
"It ill befits," the youngest said,
"A crowned king to lie;
"But, or that I taste meat and drink,
"Reproved sall he be."
He went before King Edward strait,
And kneel'd low on his knee;
"I wad hae leave, my lord," he said,
"To speak a word wi' thee."
The king he turned him round about,
And wistna what to say—
Quo' he, "Man, thou's hae leave to speak,
Tho' thou should speak a' day."
"Ye said, that three young lads o' France
"Your standard stole away,
"Wi' a fause tale, and fauser trayne,
"And mony men did slay:
"But we are nane the lads o' France,
"Nor e'er pretend to be;
"We are three lads o' fair Scotland,
"Auld Maitland's sons are we;
"Nor is there men, in a' your host,
"Daur fight us, three to three."
"Now, by my sooth," young Edward said,
"Weel fitted ye sall be!
"Piercy sall wi' the eldest fight,
"And Ethert Lunn wi' thee;
"William of Lancaster the third,
"And bring your fourth to me!"
"Remember, Piercy, aft the Scot[[94]]
"Has cow'rd beneath thy hand:
"For every drap of Maitland blood,
"I'll gie a rigg of land."
He clanked Piercy ower the head,
A deep wound and a sair,
Till the best blood o' his bodie
Cam rinning down his hair.
"Now, I've slayne ane; slay ye the twa;
"And that's gude companye;
"And if the twa suld slay you baith,
"Ye'se get na help frae me."
But Ethert Lunn, a baited bear,
Had many battles seen;
He set the youngest wonder sair,
Till the eldest he grew keen—
"I am nae king, nor nae sic thing:
"My word it shanna stand!
"For Ethert sail a buffet bide,
"Come he beneath my brand."
He clanked Ethert ower the head,
A deep wound and a sair,
Till the best blood of his bodie
Cam rinning ower his hair.
"Now I've slayne twa; slay ye the ane;
"Is na that gude companye?
"And tho' the ane suld slay ye baith,
"Ye'se get na help o' me."
The twa-some they hae slayne the ane;
They maul'd him cruellie;
Then hung them over the draw-brigg,
That all the host might see.
They rade their horse, they ran their horse,
Then hovered on the lee;
"We be three lads o' fair Scotland,
"That fain wad fighting see."
This boasting, when young Edward heard.
An angry man was he!
"I'll take yon lad, I'll bind yon lad,
"And bring him bound to thee!"
"Now, God forbid," King Edward said,
"That ever thou suld try!
"Three worthy leaders we hae lost,
"And thou the fourth wad lie.
"If thou should'st hang on yon draw-brigg,
"Blythe wad I never be!"
But, wi' the poll-axe in his hand,
Upon the brigg sprang he.
The first stroke that young Edward gae,
He struck wi' might and mayn;
He clove the Maitlan's helmet stout,
And bit right nigh the brayn.
When Maitland saw his ain blood fa',
An angry man was he!
He let his weapon frae him fa',
And at his throat did flee.
And thrice about he did him swing,
Till on the grund he light,
Where he has halden young Edward,
Tho' he was great in might.
"Now, let him up," King Edward cried,
"And let him come to me!
"And, for the deed that thou hast done,
"Thou shalt hae erldomes three!"
"Its ne'er be said in France, nor e'er
In Scotland, when I'm hame,
That Edward once lay under me,
And e'er gat up again!"
He pierced him through and through the heart;
He maul'd him cruellie;
Then hung him ower the draw-brigg,
Beside the other three.
"Now, take frae me that feather-bed!
"Mak me a bed o' strae!
"I wish I had na lived this day,
"To mak my heart sae wae.
"If I were ance at London tower,
"Where I was wont to be,
"I never mair suld gang frae hame,
"Till borne on a bier-tree."
NOTES ON AULD MAITLAND.
Young Edward hight his name.—P, 25. v. 2.
Were it possible to find an authority for calling this personage Edmund, we should be a step nearer history; for a brother, though not a nephew of Edward I., so named, died in Gascony during an unsuccessful campaign against the French.—Knighton, Lib. III. cap. 8.
I wish him dool and pyne.—P. 26. v. 3.
Thus, Spenser, in Mother Huberd's tale—
Thus is this ape become a shepherd swain,
And the false fox his dog, God give them pain!
Who, marching forth with false Dunbar,
A ready welcome found.—P. 26. v. 4.
These two lines are modern, and inserted to complete the verse. Dunbar, the fortress of Patrick, Earl of March, was too often opened [39] to the English, by the treachery of that baron, during the reign of Edward I.
They laid their sowies to the wall,
Wi' many a heavy peal.—P. 27. v. 4.
In this and the following verse, the attack and defence of a fortress, during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, is described accurately and concisely. The sow was a military engine, resembling the Roman testudo. It was framed of wood, covered with hides, and mounted on wheels, so that, being rolled forwards to the foot of the besieged wall, it served as a shed, or cover, to defend the miners, or those who wrought the battering ram, from the stones and arrows of the garrison. In the course of the famous defence, made by Black Agnes, Countess of March, of her husband's castle of Dunbar, Montague, Earl of Salisbury, who commanded the besiegers, caused one of these engines to be wheeled up to the wall. The countess, who, with her damsels, kept her station on the battlements, and affected to wipe off with her handkerchief the dust raised by the stones, hurled from the English machines, awaited the approach of this new engine of assault. "Beware, Montague," she exclaimed, while the fragment of a rock was discharged from the wall—"Beware, Montague! for farrow shall thy sow!"[[95]] Their cover being dashed to pieces, the assailants, with great loss and difficulty, scrambled back to their trenches. "By the regard of suche a ladye," would Froissart have said, "and by her comforting, a man ought to be worth two men, at need." The sow was called by the French Truie.—See Hailes' Annals, Vol. II. p. 89. Wintown's Cronykil, Book VIII. William of Malmesbury, Lib. IV.
The memory of the sow is preserved in Scotland by two trifling circumstances. The name given to an oblong hay-stack, is a [40] hay-sow; and this may give us a good idea of the form of the machine. Children also play at a game with cherry stones, placing a small heap on the ground, which they term a sowie, endeavouring to hit it, by throwing single cherry-stones, as the sow was formerly battered from the walls of the besieged fortress. My companions, at the High School of Edinburgh, will remember what was meant by berrying a sowie. It is strange to find traces of military antiquities in the occupation of the husbandman, and the sports of children.
The pitch and tar-barrels of Maitland were intended to consume the formidable machines of the English. Thus, at a fabulous siege of York, by Sir William Wallace, the same mode of defence is adopted:
The Englishmen, that cruel were and kene,
Keeped their town, and fended there full fast;
Faggots of fire among the host they cast,
Up pitch and tar on feil sowis they lent;
Many were hurt ere they from the walls went;
Stones on Springalds they did cast out so fast,
And goads of iron made many grome agast.
Henry the Minstrel's History of Wallace.—B. 8. c. 5.
A more authentic illustration may be derived from Barbour's Account of the Siege of Berwick, by Edward II., in 1319, when a sow was brought on to the attack by the English, and burned by the combustibles hurled down upon it, through the device of John Crab, a Flemish engineer, in the Scottish service.
And thai, that at the sege lay,
Or it was passyt the fyft day,
Had made thaim syndry apparall,
To gang eft sonys till assaill.
Off gret gests a sow thai maid,
That stalwart heildyne aboyne it haid;
With armyt men inew tharin,
And instruments for to myne.
Syndry scaffalds thai maid withall,
That war wele heyar than the wall,
And ordanyt als that, be the se,
The town suld weill assaillyt be.
Thai within, that saw thaim swa,
Swa gret apparaill schap to ma,
Throw Craby's cunsaill, that wes sley,
A crane thai haiff gert dress up hey,
Rynnand on quheills, that thai micht bryng
It quhar that nede war off helping.
And pyk, and ter, als haiff thai tane;
And lynt, and herds, and brymstane;
And dry treyis that wele wald brin,
And mellyt aythir other in:
And gret fagalds thairoff thai maid,
Gyrdyt with irne bands braid.
The fagalds weill mycht mesuryt be,
Till a gret towrys quantite.
The fagalds bryning in a ball,
With thair cran thoucht till awaill;
And giff the sow come to the wall,
To lat it brynand on her fall;
And with stark chenyeis hald it thar,
Quhill all war brynt up that thar war.
Upon sic maner gan thai fycht,
Quhill it wes ner none off the day,
That thai without, on gret aray,
Pryssyt thair sow towart the wall;
And thai within sune gert call
The engynour, that takyn was,
And gret manance till hym mais,
And swour that he suld dey, bot he
Prowyt on the sow sic sutelté
That he to fruschyt ilk dele,
And he, that hath persawyt wele
That the dede wes wele ner hym till,
Bot giff he mycht fulfil thair will
Thoucht that he at hys mycht wald do.
Bendyt in gret by then wes sche,
That till the sow wes ewyn set.
In hy he gert draw the cleket;
And smertly swappyt owt a stane,
Ewyn our the sow the stane is gane,
And behind it a litill way
It fell: and then they cryt, "Hey!"
That war in hyr, "furth to the wall,
For dredles it is ours all!"
The gynour than deleuerly
Gert bend the gyn in full gret hy;
And the stane smertly swappyt out.
It flaw out quethyr, and with a rout,
And fell rycht ewyn befor the sow.
Thair harts than begouth to grow.
Bot yhet than, with thair mychts all
Thai pressyt the sow towart the wall;
And has hyr set tharto gentilly.
The gynour than gert bend in hy
The gyne, and wappyt owt the stane,
That ewyn towart the lyft is gane,
And with gret wycht syne duschyt doun,
Rycht be the wall in a randoun;
And hyt the sow in sic maner,
That it that wes the maist sowar,
And starkast for to stynt a strak,
In sundre with that dusche it brak.
The men than owt in full gret hy,
And on the wallis thai gan cry,
That thair sow wes feryt thar.
Jhon Crab, that had hys geer all yar
In hys fagalds has set the fyr,
And our the wall syne gan thai wyr,
And brynt the sow till brands bar.
The Bruce, Book XVII
The springalds, used in defence of the castle of Lauder, were balistae, or large cross-bows, wrought by machinery, and [43] capable of throwing stones, beams, and huge darts. They were numbered among the heavy artillery of the age; "Than the kynge made all his navy to draw along, by the cost of the Downes, every ship well garnished with bombardes, crosbowes, archers, springalls, and other artillarie."—Froissart.
Goads, or sharpened bars of iron, were an obvious and formidable missile weapon. Thus, at the assault of Rochemiglion "They within cast out great barres of iron, and pots with lyme, wherewith they hurt divers Englishmen, such as adventured themselves too far."—Froissart, Vol. I. cap. 108.
From what has been noticed, the attack and defence of Lauder castle will be found strictly conformable to the manners of the age; a circumstance of great importance, in judging of the antiquity of the ballad. There is no mention of guns, though these became so common in the latter part of the reign of Edward III., that, at the siege of St. Maloes, "the English had well a four hondred gonnes, who shot day and night into the fortresse, and agaynst it."—Froissart, Vol. I. cap. 336. Barbour informs us, that guns, or "crakis of wer," as he calls them, and crests for helmets, were first seen by the Scottish, in their skirmishes with Edward the Third's host, in Northumberland A.D. 1327.
Which some call Billop-Grace.—P. 28. v. 5.
If this be a Flemish, or Scottish, corruption for Ville de Grace, in Normandy, that town was never besieged by Edward I., whose wars in France were confined to the province of Gascony. The rapid change of scene, from Scotland to France, excites a suspicion, that some verses may have been lost in this place. The retreat of the English host, however, may remind us of a passage, in Wintown, when, after mentioning that the Earl of Salisbury raised the siege of Dunbar, to join King Edward in France, he observes,
"It was to Scotland a gud chance,
"That thai made thaim to werray in France;
"For had thai halyly thaim tane
"For to werray in Scotland allane.
Eftyr the gret mischeffis twa,
Duplyn and Hallydowne war tha,
Thai suld have skaithit it to gretly.
Bot fortowne thoucht scho fald fekilly
Will noucht at anis myscheffis fall;
Thare-fore scho set thare hartis all,
To werray Fraunce richit to be,
That Scottis live in grettar lé.
Cronykil, B. VIII. cap. 34.
Now, will ye go, my brethren two,
And try some jeopardie?—P. 29. v. 2.
The romantic custom of atchieving, or attempting, some desperate and perilous adventure, without either necessity or cause, was a peculiar, and perhaps the most prominent, feature of chivalry. It was not merely the duty, but the pride and delight, of a true knight, to perform such exploits, as no one but a madman would have undertaken. I think it is in the old French romance of Erec and Eneide, that an adventure, the access to which lay through an avenue of stakes, garnished with the bloody heads of the knights who had attempted and failed to atchieve it, is called by the inviting title of La joie de la Cour. To be first in advancing, or last in retreating; to strike upon the gate of a certain fortress of the enemy; to fight blindfold, or with one arm tied up; to carry off a banner, or to defend one; were often the subjects of a particular vow, among the sons of chivalry. Until some distinguishing exploit of this nature, a young knight was not said to have won his spurs; and, upon some occasions, he was obliged to bear, as a mark of thraldom, a chain upon his arm, which was removed, with great ceremony, when his merit became conspicuous. These chains are noticed in the romance of Jehan de Saintré. In the language of German chivalry, they were called Ketten des Gelubdes (fetters of duty). Lord Herbert of Cherbury informs us, that the knights of the Bath were obliged to wear certain strings, of silk and gold, upon their left arm, until they had atchieved some noble deed of arms. When Edward III. commenced his [45] French wars, many of the young bachelors of England bound up one of their eyes with a silk ribband, and swore, before the peacock and the ladies, that they would not see with both eyes until they had accomplished certain deeds of arms in France.—Froissart, cap. 28.
A remarkable instance of this chivalrous frenzy occurred during the expedition of Sir Robert Knowles, who, in 1370, marched through France, and laid waste the country, up to the very gates of Paris. "There was a knighte, in their companye, had made a vowe, the day before, that he wolde ryde to the walles or gates of Parys, and stryke at the barryers with his speare. And, for the fournyshing of his vowe, he departed fro his companye, his spear in his fyst, his shelde about his neck, armed at all pecesse, on a good horsse, his squyer on another, behinde him, with his bassenet. And whan he approached neare to Parys, he toke and dyde on his helme, and left his squyer behind hym, and dashed his spurres to his horsse, and came gallopynge to the barryers, the whiche as then were opyn; and the lordes, that were there, had wened he wolde have entred into the towne; but that was not his mynde; for, when he hadde stryken at the barryers, as he had before avowed, he towrned his reyne, and drue back agayne, and departed. Than the knightes of France, that sawe hym depart, sayd to hym, 'Go your waye; you have ryghte well acquitted yourself.' I can nat tell you what was thys knyghtes name, nor of what contre; but the blazure of his armes was, goules, two fusses sable, a border sable. Howbeit, in the subbarbes, he had a sore encontre; for, as he passed on the pavement, he founde before hym a bocher, a bigge man, who had well sene this knighte pass by. And he helde in his handes a sharpe hevy axe, with a longe poynt; and, as the knyght returned agayne, and toke no hede, this bocher came on his side, and gave the knyghte suche a stroke, betwene the neck and the shulders, that he reversed forwarde heedlynge, to the neck of his horsse, and yet he recovered agayne. And than the bocher strake hym agayne, so that the axe entered into his [46] body, so that, for payne, the knyghte fell to the erthe, and his horsse ran away, and came to the squyer, who abode for his mayster at the stretes ende. And so, the squyer toke the horsse, and had gret marveyle what was become of his mayster; for he had well sene him ryde to the barryers, and stryke therat with his glayve, and retourne agayne. Thanne he rode a lytell forthe, thyderwarde, and anone he sawe where his master layn upon the erthe, bytwene foure men, layenge on him strokes, as they wolde have stryken on a stethey (anvil); and than the squyer was so affreyed, that he durst go no farther; for he sawe well he could nat helpe his mayster. Therefore he retourned as fast as he myght: so there the sayd knyghte was slayne. And the knyghtes, that were at the gate, caused hym to be buried in holy ground."—Froissart, ch. 281.
A similar instance of a military jeopardy occurs in the same author, ch. 364. It happened before the gates of Troyes. "There was an Englyshe squyre, borne in the bishopryke of Lincolne, an expert man of armes; I can nat say whyder he could se or nat; but he spurred his horse, his speare in his hande, and his targe about his necke; his horse came rushyng downe the waye, and lept clene over the barres of the baryers, and so galoped to the gate, where as the duke of Burgoyne and the other lords of France were, who reputed that dede for a great enterprise. The squyer thoughte to have returned, but he could nat; for his horse was stryken with speares, and beaten downe, and the squyer slayn; wherewith the Duke of Burgoyne was right sore displeased."
Wilt thou lend me our king's standard,
To bear a little way?—P. 29. v. 4.
In all ages, and in almost all countries, the military standards have been objects of respect to the soldiery, whose duty it is to range beneath them, and, if necessary, to die in their defence. In the ages of chivalry, these ensigns were distinguished by their shape, and by the various names of banners, pennons, penoncelles, &c., according to the number of men, who were to fight under them. They were displayed, [47] on the day of battle, with singular solemnity, and consigned to the charge only of such as were thought willing and able to defend them to the uttermost. When the army of Edward, the Black Prince, was drawn up against that of Henry the Bastard, king of Castile, "Than Sir Johan Chandos brought his baner, rolled up togyder, to the prince, and said, 'Sir, behold, here is my baner. I requyre you display it abrode, and give me leave, this daye, to raise it; for, sir, I thanke God and you, I have land and heritage suffyciente to maynteyne it withal.' Than the prince, and King Dampeter (Don Pedro), toke the baner betwene their handes, and spred it abrode, the which was of sylver, a sharp pyle gaules, and delyvered it to hym, and said, 'Sir Johan, behold here youre baner; God sende you joye and honour thereof!' Than Sir Johan Chandos bare his baner to his owne company, and sayde, 'Sirs, beholde here my baner, and yours; kepe it as your owne.' And they toke it, and were right joyful therof, and sayd, that, by the pleasure of God, and Saint George, they wold kepe and defend it to the best of their powers. And so the baner abode in the handes of a good Englishe squyer, called William Alery, who bare it that day, and acquaytted himself right nobly."—Froissart, Vol. I. ch. 237. The loss of a banner was not only great dishonour, but an infinite disadvantage. At the battle of Cocherel, in Normandy, the flower of the combatants, on each side, were engaged in the attack and defence of the banner of the captall of Buche, the English leader. It was planted amid a bush of thorns, and guarded by sixty men at arms, who defended it gallantly. "There were many rescues, and many a one hurt and cast to the earth, and many feats of armes done, and many gret strokes given, with good axes of steel, that it was wonder to behold." The battle did not cease until the captall's standard was taken and torn to pieces.
We learn, from the following passage in Stowe's Chronicle, that the standard of Edward I. was a golden dragon. "The king entred Wales with an army, appointing the footmen to occupie the enemies in fight, whiles his horsemen, in a wing, set on the rere battell: himselfe, [48] with a power, kept his place, where he pight his golden dragon, unto whiche, as to a castle, the wounded and wearied might repair."
"Where was thou bred? where was thou born?
Where, or in what countrie?"
"In north of England I was born:
(It needed him to lie.)—P. 29. v. 5.
Stratagems, such as that of Maitland, were frequently practised with success, in consequence of the complete armour worn by the knights of the middle ages. In 1359, Edward III. entered France, to improve the success of the battle of Poictiers. Two French knights, Sir Galahaut of Rybamont, and Sir Roger of Cologne, rode forth, with their followers, to survey the English host, and, in short, to seek adventures. It chanced that they met a foraging party of Germans, retained in King Edward's service, under the command of Reynold of Boulant, a knight of that nation. By the counsel of a squire of his retinue, Sir Galahaut joined company with the German knight, under the assumed character of Bartholomew de Bonne, Reynold's countryman, and fellow soldier in the English service. The French knights "were a 70 men of armes, and Sir Renolde had not past a 30; and, whan Sir Renolde saw theym, he displayed his baner befor hym, and came softely rydynge towarde theym, wenyng to hym that they had been Englyshemen. Whan he approched, he lyft up hys vyser, saluted Sir Galahaut, in the name of Sir Bartylmewe de Bonnes. Sir Galahaut helde hymselfe styll secrete, and answered but fayntly, and sayd, 'let us ryde forth;' and so rode on, and hys men, on the one syde, and the Almaygnes on the other. Whan Sir Renolde of Boulant sawe theyr maner, and howe Sir Galahaut rode sometyme by hym, and spake no word, than he began to suspecte. And he had not so ryden, the space of a quarter of an hour, but he stode styll, under his baner, among hys men, and sayd, 'Sir, I have dout what knyght ye be. I thynke ye be nat Sir Bartylmewe, for I knowe hym well; and I see well that yt ys nat you. I woll ye telle me your name, [49] or I ryde any farter in your company.' Therwith Sir Galahaut lyft up hys vyser, and rode towardes the knyght to have taken hym by the raygne of hys brydell, and cryed, 'Our Ladye of Rybamont!' than Sir Roger of Coloyne sayd, 'Coloyne to the rescue!'[[96]] Whan Sir Renolde of Boulant sawe what case he was in, he was nat gretly afrayed, but drewe out his sworde; and, as Sir Galahaut wolde have taken hym by the brydell, Sir Renolde put his sworde clene through hym, and drue agayne hys sworde out of hym, and toke his horse, with the spurres, and left Sir Galahaut sore hurt. And, whan Sir Galahautes men sawe theyr master in that case, they were sore dyspleased, and set on Sir Renolde's men; there were many cast to the yerth, but as sone as Sir Renolde had gyven Sir Galahaut that stroke, he strak hys horse with the spurres, and toke the feldes. Than certayne of Galahaut's squyers chasyd hym, and, whan he sawe that they folowed hym so nere, that he muste other tourne agayne, or els be shamed, lyke a hardy knyght he tourned, and abode the foremost, and gave hym such a stroke, that he had no more lyste to folwe him. And thus, as he rode on, he served three of theym, that folowed hym, and wounded theym sore: if a goode axe had been in hys hand, at every stroke he had slayne a man. He dyd so muche, that he was out of danger of the Frenchmen, and saved hymselfe withoute any hurte; the whyche hys enemyes reputed for a grete prowess, and so dyd all other that harde thereof; but hys men were nere slayne or taken, but few that were saved. And Sir Galahaut was caryed from thence sore hurt to Perone; of that hurt he was never after perfectly hole; for he was a knyght of suche courage, that, for all his hurte, he wold not spare hymselfe; wherefore he lyved not long after."—Froissart, Vol. I. Chap. 207.
The youngest turn'd him in a path,
And drew a burnished brand, &c.—P. 31. v. 2.
Thus, Sir Walter Mauny, retreating into the fortress of Hanyboute, [50] after a successful sally, was pursued by the besiegers, who ranne after them, lyke madde men; than Sir Gualtier saide, "Let me never be beloved wyth my lady, without I have a course wyth one of these folowers!" and turning, with his lance in the rest, he overthrew several of his pursuers, before he condescended to continue his retreat.
Whene'er they came within the yate,
They thrust their horse them frae, &c.—P. 32. v. 1.
"The Lord of Hangest (pursued by the English) came so to the barryers (of Vandonne) that were open, as his happe was, and so entred in therat, and than toke his speare, and turned him to defence, right valiantly."—Froissart, Vol. I. Chap. 367.
They rade their horse, they ran their horse,
Then hovered on the lee, &c.—P. 36. v. 1.
The sieges, during the middle ages, frequently afforded opportunity for single combat, of which the scene was usually the draw-bridge, or barriers, of the town. The former, as the more desperate place of battle, was frequently chosen by knights, who chose to break a lance for honour, and their ladies' love. In 1387, Sir William Douglas, lord of Nithisdale, upon the draw-bridge of the town of Carlisle, consisting of two beams, hardly two feet in breadth, encountered and slew, first, a single champion of England, and afterwards two, who attacked him together.—Forduni Scotichronicon, Lib. XIV. cap. 51.
He brynt the surburbys of Carlele,
And at the bareris he faucht sa wele,
That on thare bryg he slw a man,
The wychtast that in the town wes than:
Quhare, on a plank of twa feet brade,
He stude, and twa gude payment made,
That he feld twa stout fechteris,
And but skath went till his feres.
Wintown's Cronykil, Book IX. Chap. 8.
These combats at the barriers, or palisades, which formed the outer fortification of a town, were so frequent, that the mode of attack and defence was early taught to the future knight, and continued long to be practised in the games of chivalry. The custom, therefore, of defying the inhabitants of a besieged town to this sort of contest, was highly fashionable in the middle ages; and an army could hardly appear before a place, without giving rise to a variety of combats at the barriers, which were, in general, conducted without any unfair advantage being taken on either part.
The following striking example of this romantic custom occurs in Froissart. During the French wars of Edward the Black Prince, and in the year 1370, a body of English, and of adventurers retained in his service, approached the city of Noyon, then occupied by a French garrison, and arrayed themselves, with displayed banners, before the town, defying the defenders to battle. "There was a Scottysh knyghte[[97]] dyde there a goodly feate of armes, for he departed fro his companye, hys speare in hys hand, and mounted on a good horse, hys page behynde hyme, and so came before the barryers. Thys knyghte was called Sir Johan Assueton,[[98]] a hardy man and a couragyous. Whan he was before the barryers of Noyon, he lyghted a-fote, and sayd to hys page, 'Holde, kepe my horse, and departe nat hens;' and so wente to the barryers. And wythyn the barryers, there were good knyghtes; as, Sir John of Roy, Sir Lancelat of Loutys, and a x or xii other, who had grete marveyle what thys sayde knyghte wolde do. Than he sayde to them, 'Sirs, I am come hyder to se you. I se well, ye wyll nat issue [52] out of your barryers; therefore I will entre, and I can, and wyll prove my knyghthode agaynst yours; wyn me and ye can.' And therewyth he layde on, round about hym, and they at hym. And thus, he alone fought agaynst them, more than an houre; and dyd hurte two or three of them; so that they of the towne, on the walles and garrettes, stode still, and behelde them, and had great pleasure to regarde his valyauntness, and dyd him no hurte; the whiche they myght have done, if they hadde list to have shotte, or cast stones at hym. And also the French knyghtes charged them to let hym and them alone togyder. So long they foughte, that, at last, his page came near to the barryers, and spake in his langage, and sayd, 'Sir, come awaye; it is time for you to departe, for your cumpanye is departyng hens.' The knyghte harde hym well, and than gave a two or three strokes about him, and so, armed as he was, he lepte out of the barryers, and lepte upon his horse, without any hurte, behynde his page; and sayd to the Frenchemen, 'Adue, sirs! I thank you;' and so rode forthe to his owne company. The whiche dede was moche praysed of many folkes."—Froissart, cap. 278.
The barriers, so often alluded to, are described, by the same admirable historian, to be grated pallisades, the grates being about half a foot wide. In a skirmish before Honycourt, Sir Henry of Flanders ventured to thrust his sword so far through one of those spaces, that a sturdy abbot, who was within, seized his sword-arm, and drew it through the harriers, up to the shoulder. In this aukward situation he remained for some time, being unwilling to dishonour himself by quitting his weapon. He was at length rescued, but lost his sword; which Froissart afterwards saw preserved, as a relique, in the monastery of Honycourt.—Vol. I. chap. 39. For instances of single combats, at the barriers, see the same author, passim.
And if the twa suld slay ye baith,
Ye'se get na help frae me.—P. 34. v. 5.
According to the laws of chivalry, laws, which were also for a long [53] time observed in duels, when two or more persons were engaged on each side, he, who first conquered his immediate antagonist, was at liberty, if he pleased, to come to the assistance of his companions. The play of the "Little French Lawyer" turns entirely upon this circumstance; and it may be remarked throughout the poems of Boiardo and Ariosto; particularly in the combat of three Christian and three Pagan champions, in the 42d canto of Orlando Furioso. But doubtless a gallant knight was often unwilling, like young Maitland, to avail himself of this advantage. Something of this kind seems to have happened in the celebrated combat, fought in the presence of James II. at Stirling, in 1449, between three French, or Flemish, warriors, and three noble Scottishmen, two of whom were of the house of Douglas. The reader will find a literal translation of Olivier de la Marche's account of this celebrated tourney, in Pinkerton's History, Vol. I. p. 428.
I am nae king, nor nae sic thing:
My word it shanna stand!—P. 35. v. 2.
Maitland's apology for retracting his promise to stand neuter, is as curious as his doing so is natural. The unfortunate John of France was wont to say, that, if truth and faith were banished from all the rest of the universe, they should still reside in the breast and the mouth of kings.
They maul'd him cruellie.—P. 35. v. 5.
This has a vulgar sound, but is actually a phrase of romance. Tant frappent et maillent lex deux vassaux l'un sur l'autre, que leurs heaumes, et leurs hauberts, sont tous cassez et rompus.—La fleur des Battailes.
But, wi' the poll-axe in his hand,
Upon the brigg sprang he.—P. 36. v. 4.
The battle-axe, of which there are many kinds, was a knightly weapon, much used in the middle ages, as well in single combat as in battle. "And also there was a younge bachelor, called Bertrande of Glesguyne, [54] who duryng the seige, fought wyth an Englyshman, called Sir Nycholas Dagerne; and that batayle was takene thre courses wyth a speare, thre strokes wyth an axe, and thre wyth a dagger. And eche of these knyghtes bare themselves so valyantly, that they departed fro the felde wythout any damage, and they were well regarded, bothe of theyme wythyn, and they wythout." This happened at the siege of Rennes, by the Duke of Lancaster, in 1357.—Froissart, Vol. I. c. 175. With the same weapon Godfrey of Harcourt long defended himself, when surprised and defeated by the French. "And Sir Godfraye's men kepte no goode array, nor dyd nat as they had promysed; moost part of theyme fledde: whan Sir Godfraye sawe that, he sayde to hymselfe, howe he had rather there be slayne than be taken by the Frenchmen; there he toke hys axe in hys handes, and set fast the one legge before the other, to stonde the more surely; for hys one legge was a lytell crooked, but he was strong in the armes. Ther he fought valyantly and long: none durste well abyde hys strokes; than two Frenchmen mounted on theyr horses, and ranne both with their speares at ones at hym, and so bare hym to the yerth: than other, that were a-fote, came wyth theyr swerdes, and strake hym into the body, under his barneys, so that ther he was slayne."—Ibid, chap. 172. The historian throws Sir Godfrey into a striking attitude of desperation.
When Maitland saw his ain blude fa',
An angry man was he,—P. 37, v. 1.
There is a saying, that a Scottishman fights best after seeing his own blood. Camerarius has contrived to hitch this foolish proverb into a national compliment; for he quotes it as an instance of the persevering gallantry of his countrymen. "Si in pugna proprium effundi sanguinem vidissent, non statim prostrato animo concedebant, sed irato potius in hostes velut furentes omnibus viribus incurrebant."
That Edward once lay under me,
And e'er gat up again.—P. 37. v. 4.
Some reciters repeat it thus:
"That Englishman lay under me,"
which is in the true spirit of Blind Harry, who makes Wallace say,
"I like better to see the southeron die,
"Than gold or land, that they can gie to me."
In slaying Edward, Maitland acts pitilessly, but not contrary to the laws of arms, which did not enjoin a knight to shew mercy to his antagonist, until he yielded him, "rescue or no rescue." Thus, the seigneur de Languerant came before the walls of an English garrison, in Gascony, and defied any of the defenders to run a course with a spear: his challenge being accepted by Bertrand Courant, the governor of the place, they couched their spears, like good knights, and dashed on their horses. Their spears were broke to pieces, and Languerant was overthrown, and lost his helmet among the horses' feet. His attendants were coming up; but Bernard drew his dagger, and said, "Sir, yield ye my prisoner, rescue or no rescue; else ye are but dead." The dismounted champion spoke not a word; on which, Bertrand, entering into fervent ire, dashed his dagger into his skull. Besides, the battle was not always finished by one warrior obtaining this advantage over the other. In the battle of Nejara, the famous Sir John Chandos was overthrown, and held down, by a gigantic Spanish cavalier, named Martino Fernandez. "Then Sir Johan Chandos remembred of a knyfe, that he had in his bosome, and drew it out, and struck this Martyne so in the backe, and in the sydes, that he wounded him to dethe, as he laye upon hym." The dagger, which the knights employed in these close and desperate struggles, was called the poniard of mercy.