VII. HOW BONNIVET RESOLVED TO RETREAT FROM NOVARA.
Becoming apprehensive that he should lose his supplies from the Lomellino, whence he chiefly derived them, Bonnivet at length crossed the Ticino with the bulk of his army, placing his vanguard at Vigevano, and the main body of the army at Mortara—a strongly fortified city, and where he could obtain provisions from Montferrat, Vercelli, and Novara.
He did not abandon Abbiate-Grasso, but left a thousand infantry and a hundred horse to guard the place—a very inadequate force, as was speedily shown. Three days afterwards, the town was attacked by Giovanni de' Medici, assisted by Sforza, with five hundred of the élite of the garrison of Milan. The assault began early in the morning, and was conducted with such extraordinary vigour, that, in spite of a gallant defence, the place was taken before night. Fatal consequences, however, attended this bold achievement. The plague at that time existed at Abbiate-Grasso, and the spoils of the town being carried off by the victors, the scourge was conveyed to Milan, and eventually committed dreadful ravages in that city.
The capture of Abbiate-Grasso was not the only success achieved by the Imperialists. Others followed in rapid succession. Sartirano, an important post occupied by the French, was besieged and taken by Bourbon before Bonnivet could succour it from Mortara. As the Imperialists continued to press upon his right, fearing his supplies might be cut off, he retired to Novara, and established himself there, hoping to be reinforced by the Grisons and Swiss. But he was disappointed. Conducted by Dietingen de Salis, the Grisons got as far as Bergamo, where they ought to have been joined by the Prince Federico da Bozzolo. But he was shut up in Lodi. Harassed by Giovanni de' Medici, who was sent with a detachment of light horse to drive them back, unable to obtain their promised pay or an escort of cavalry, the Grisons, disgusted and indignant, returned to their native valleys. Having accomplished this task, the active Medici destroyed the bridge at Buffalora, thus enclosing Bonnivet between the Ticino and the Sesia, and liberating Milan from all chance of attack.
Bonnivet was not more fortunate in regard to his Swiss reinforcements than with the Grisons. Eight thousand of these hardy mountaineers made their way to the neighbourhood of Vercelli, on the right bank of the Sesia, in order to effect a junction with the French army at Novara. But the river was swollen and impassable, and the Swiss, having learned that the Grisons had retired, became greatly discontented, and refused to join the French until they first received their pay. In vain Bonnivet sent Captain Diesbach to remonstrate with them. They remained sullen and inflexible, alleging that the French king had broken faith with them, having failed to send the Duc de Longueville with four hundred lances to Ivry to escort them, and now they were denied their pay.
The Admiral's position had thus become extremely perilous. Deprived of the large reinforcements he had expected, and which alone could enable him successfully to prosecute the campaign; confronted by a hostile army greatly superior to his own in number, and stimulated by constant successes; with his own troops almost decimated by disease and famine; in danger of losing his supplies, owing to the activity of the enemy, his utter defeat or an inglorious surrender seemed inevitable.
Bonnivet determined to retreat, but before putting his design into execution, he summoned the principal leaders of the French army to a council. With the exception of the Maréchal de Montmorency, who had been attacked by the plague, and had already left Novara, they all attended; and the assemblage comprised the Comte de Saint-Pol, the Seigneur de Vandenesse, the Chevalier Bayard, the Vidame de Chartres, De Lorges, Annebaut, Beauvais (surnamed “the Brave”), Renzo da Ceri, and the Swiss captain, Diesbach. All these personages were fully armed, save that they had taken off their helmets and unbuckled their swords, and, as they were grouped around a table placed in the centre of the tent in which they met, they formed a very striking picture.
Conspicuous among them for the richness of his armour, which was damaskeened with gold, and for his splendid person and handsome lineaments, was the Lord Admiral. The Comte de Saint-Pol was also a noble-looking warrior, and gorgeously accoutred. The veteran Vandenesse was cased in black armour, and had a martial and determined aspect. The Vidame de Chartres had a proud and resolute look. Annebaut, De Lorges, and the brave Beauvais were all stalwart captains, whose scarred visages proclaimed the numerous conflicts they had been engaged in. Renzo da Ceri was of slighter frame, and younger than the last-mentioned warriors, and his graceful person, sheathed in lacquered armour, contrasted strongly with the robust frame and rugged physiognomy of the Swiss leader, Diesbach, near whom he sat.
But, although each individual in the group was worthy of notice, the one who would infallibly have fixed the attention of a beholder was the Chevalier Bayard.
Bayard was fashioned in the heroic mould. Above the ordinary height, powerfully built, and possessed of prodigious strength, he wore his ponderous armour, dinted by many a blow, as easily as if it had been a silken doublet. His features corresponded with his frame, being massive and nobly sculptured, generally stern in expression, yet sometimes lighted up by a pleasant smile.
The doughty champion was now approaching fifty, and though his mighty arm had lost none of its power, and his features bore few traces of age, his once raven locks were thickly sown with grey. It had been remarked by his soldiers, by whom he was idolised, that since the affair of Robecco their captain had looked sombre and discontented, and they fancied that the thought of the defeat rankled in his breast.
More than human valour seemed to beat in Bayard's broad breast—more than human strength appeared to reside in his herculean frame and powerful arm. No danger ever appalled him—nay, his spirit rose with danger, inciting him to deeds worthy of the heroic ages. Such was his conduct at Garigliano, when, wholly unsupported, he defended the bridge against the entire Spanish host, and saved the French army. Besides the inconceivable daring of all his actions, their grandeur made him the central figure in every conflict in which he engaged, and excited the admiration both of friends and foes.
When only eighteen, Bayard followed Charles VIII. into Italy, and won his spurs at the battle of Fornova, where he performed prodigies of valour, and had two horses killed under him. He was several times made prisoner, and more than once grievously wounded, but while free he was ever with the army. Courts he despised, and hence the neglect he experienced from François I., who placed his favourites over his head. But other monarchs appreciated him at his true worth, and after a signal victory which he had gained at Padua, the Emperor Maximilian said to him, in the presence of the whole army, “Chevalier Bayard, the king my brother is happy in having a knight like you. I would I had a dozen such, even though each cost me a hundred thousand florins a year.”
Nor did our own bluff King Hal use less flattering language towards him at the siege of Térouanne. “Were all French captains as valiant as you, Chevalier Bayard,” said Henry, “I must speedily raise the siege of this place.”
Bayard, as is well known, after the famous battle of Marignano, which he himself had helped to win, and where he fought side by side with the Constable de Bourbon, was called upon by the victorious king to dub him knight.
Bayard would have declined the honour, but François insisted, and bent the knee before him. Whereupon Bayard, drawing his sword, and touching the king's shoulder with the blade, exclaimed:
“Sire, may it be with you as with Roland or Oliver, Godfrey or Baldwin, his brother. Certes, you are the first king that ever I dubbed knight.” Then pressing his lips to the blade, he said, “Happy art thou, my sword, to have performed this office for so brave a monarch! Henceforth, good sword, shalt thou be kept as a holy relic, and honoured above all other weapons!”
But though thus distinguished, Bayard, as we have shown, was afterwards neglected by François I. The bravest and ablest captain in the army; consulted by the leaders on all occasions of difficulty, and adored by the soldiers; far fitter for command than those placed above him, he was never made a general. The only reward he received for his incalculable services was the order of Saint Michel.
Though his loyalty was unshaken by the king's ingratitude, the appointment of Bonnivet to the supreme command of the Italian army gave Bayard great offence. He could not conquer his dislike of the haughty favourite, and, moreover, entertained but a poor opinion of his military qualities. Nevertheless, he served him well and faithfully. In the unlucky affair of Robecco he fancied Bonnivet had wilfully exposed him to certain defeat, and this he could not forgive.
“I have sent for you, messeigneurs, to ask your advice,” said Bonnivet, glancing round at the assemblage, all of whom looked grave and anxious, “and I entreat you to give it freely. You are all aware of the critical position in which we are placed. You know that we are shut up between two rivers, the Ticino and the Sesia. You know that the army is greatly reduced by famine, sickness, and desertion, and that the enemy, with a force more than double our own in number, is at Cameriano, only two leagues off. You know that we have lost Abbiate-Grasso, and that the bridge over the Ticino at Buffalora has been destroyed by Giovanni de' Medici. You know that the faithless Grisons have returned to their native valleys with Dietingen de Salis. You know that the eight thousand Swiss, who are at Gattinara, on the opposite bank of the Sesia, have refused to join us. Aware of all these disastrous circumstances, what counsel do you give?”
All were silent, none liking to recommend retreat or surrender. At last Bayard spoke.
“You ask our advice, Lord Admiral,” he said. “Will you be guided by it if we offer it?”
“I cannot pledge myself to that, but I will give your counsel due consideration,” rejoined Bonnivet. “Speak freely.”
“Were I in your place,” said Bayard, “I would compel the enemy to give me battle, and by a grand masterstroke retrieve my former reverses, or perish in the effort.”
“It would be madness,” rejoined Bonnivet. “As I have said, the enemy's forces are double our own, and in better condition.”
“Then shut yourself up in Novara, and stand a siege. The city is well fortified, and will hold out till we receive reinforcements.”
“I doubt it,” remarked the Comte de Saint-Pol. “Our supplies from the Lomellino will be cut off, and the country around Novara, as you know, has been laid waste.”
“Tête-Dieu! we will get supplies from the foe,” cried Bayard. “Our condition is not so desperate as you suppose. If the enemy are two to one, what matters it?”
“If we were all Bayards it would matter little if they were ten to one,” rejoined Saint-Pol. “But our men are disheartened. Of late, we have had nothing but ill success. You yourself have been worsted.”
“True,” replied Bayard, in a sombre tone, as he thought of the affair of Robecco.
“You have seen your countrymen, Captain Diesbach,” said De Lorges to that officer. “Do they refuse to join us?”
“Absolutely,” replied Diesbach, “unless they receive their pay. They are inflexible. They declare the King of France has broken faith with them in not sending the Duc de Longueville with an escort of cavalry to meet them at Ivry, and that they will not fight for him.”
“Let the vile mercenaries go! We can do without them,” cried Beauvais.
“Mercenaries they may be, but they have good ground of complaint,” rejoined Diesbach, angrily. “They have been brought hither by promises that have not been kept. My own men declare that, unless they receive their pay, they will at once disband, and return with their countrymen who are waiting for them at Gattinara. The Swiss will not fight for mere glory.”
“But you have sufficient influence over your men to quiet their murmurs, and prevent them from disbanding, Captain Diesbach,” said Bonnivet. “Give them the positive assurance from me that they shall be paid—speedily paid.”
“Promises will not content them, my lord,” replied Diesbach. “I must have something in hand.”
“You ask an impossibility, captain,” replied Bonnivet. “My coffers are quite empty.”
“Quite empty!” exclaimed Diesbach. “A month ago you promised me ten thousand ducats.”
“Very true, captain. But the whole of the money is gone. I have had a heavy ransom to pay.”
“Whose ransom, my lord, may I make bold to inquire?” said Diesbach.
“Ask the Duke of Milan,” replied Bonnivet. “My coffers are empty, I repeat. But all arrears shall be fully paid—as soon as I receive the expected supplies from France.”
“I will tell my soldiers what you say, my lord,” returned Diesbach. “But I know what their answer will be. They will laugh in my face, disband, and cross the Sesia to join their comrades. If such should be the case, I must perforce accompany them.”
“I shall not hinder you, captain,” said Bonnivet. “Dissuade them, if you can—if not, adieu!”
“It pains me to separate from you thus, my brave companions in arms, but there is no help for it,” rejoined Diesbach. And bowing to the Admiral and the assembled leaders, who returned his salutation coldly, he quitted the tent.
“By this desertion of the Swiss we shall lose five thousand auxiliaries,” said Bonnivet. “Nothing is left but retreat.”
“Tête-Dieu! we are not yet come to that pass,” cried Bayard. “Again I say, let us provoke the enemy to battle. If we do not conquer, we shall die with honour.”
“How say you, messeigneurs?” demanded Bonnivet. “I have every faith in the Chevalier Bayard, but he is sometimes too rash. I will be governed by the general voice. Shall we risk an engagement?”
“No,” replied the leaders, unanimously. “It is too hazardous.”
“You are overruled, you see, Chevalier Bayard,” said Bonnivet.
“You will regret your determination, my lord,” rejoined Bayard, chafing fiercely. “If you retreat, Bourbon will say you are afraid of him.”
“I shall not be turned from my purpose by a taunt,” said Bonnivet. “I will not sacrifice my men.”
“Then you decide upon immediate retreat?” demanded the Comte de Saint-Pol.
“Such is my decision,” replied Bonnivet. “To-morrow night I shall quit Novara and march to Romagnano. If I can get the army safely across the Sesia, all will be well.”
“Think not to elude Bourbon,” remarked Bayard. “The thirst of vengeance will make him doubly vigilant. He will assuredly cut off our retreat.”
“The design must be kept so secret that no intelligence can be conveyed to him,” said Bonnivet. “To you, De Lorges,” he added to that captain, “I confide the construction of the bridge of boats across the Sesia. Set out for Romagnano to-night.”
“Your commands shall be obeyed, general,” returned De Lorges. “On your arrival at Romagnano, you shall find the bridge ready for the passage of the army.”
“Use all possible caution,” said Vandenesse. “If Bourbon hears of the bridge, he will guess the design.”
“He shall not hear of it,” returned De Lorges. “Not a soul shall quit Romagnano.”
“Then all is settled,” said Bonnivet. “We will meet again at noon to-morrow, when the order of march can be finally arranged.”
“At what hour do you propose to set out?” demanded Saint-Pol.
“At dusk,” replied Bonnivet. “Each leader will have his corps in readiness. You, Saint-Pol, will take charge of the first battalion. To you, Vandenesse, I confide the artillery. Chevalier Bayard, you will bring up the rear-guard. I shall be with you.”
On this the council broke up, and the leaders quitted the tent.