Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

"Not exactly at Cassel, sir knight," replied the host, glad to pass away from the subject of the tankard; "but you know Mount St. Hubert, about a league from Cassel. Your worship will find him there."

Sir Osborne made no reply; and, after a while, the host and his legion cleared the table of its encumbrances, and left the knight and his follower to pursue their own thoughts undisturbed. We can hardly wonder that, though now free from all danger of pursuit, the heart of the young knight was sad, and that his brow was clouded with many melancholy imaginings. It may be said, indeed, that he was not now worse in situation than when he was formerly in Flanders, at which time he had been happy and cheerful; but he was far worse, inasmuch as he had since entertained hopes and expectations which were now broken and passed away; inasmuch as he had known scenes, and tasted joys, that he had now lost, and which might never be his again. Every enjoyment of the human heart is like a tree planted deeply in the soil, which, when rooted out, leaves not the earth as it was before, but tears it up and scatters it abroad, and makes a yearning void, difficult to be filled again.

However, there was one thing which he had gained: an object in life. Formerly his natural disposition, the chivalrous spirit of the age, the ardour of high health, and the strong impulsive bias given by early associations, had impelled him onward on the only path of renown then open to a daring spirit. But now he had a still more inspiring motive, a more individual incitement, to press forward to the goal of fame. Constance de Grey was ever present to his thoughts, furnished the spring of all his actions, and directed his every endeavour. Renown in arms was his already; but fortune, station, he felt he must gain at the sword's point, and he only sought a good cause wherein to draw it.

The report that Albert of Koënigstein, his old friend and companion in arms, had joined the adventurers which the Count of Shoenvelt was collecting at Cassel, led him to imagine that the cause in which they would be engaged was one that he could himself embrace with honour, although Shoenvelt's name had not been hitherto very famous for the better qualities of chivalry. He doubted not, also, from the high station which he himself had filled in the armies of Burgundy, he should easily obtain that rank and command which he was entitled to expect amongst the troops thus assembled.

The history of the various bands of adventurers of that day offers us some of the most curious and interesting particulars of a curious and interesting age. These companies, totally distinct from the regular armies of the time (if regular armies they might be called), were generally levied by some enterprising feudal lord; and commencing, most frequently, amongst his own vassals, afterwards swelled out into very formidable bodies by a junction with other bands, and by the continual accession of brave and veteran soldiers, cast upon the world by the sovereigns they had served, when peace rendered their swords no longer necessary. Of course, the numbers in these companies varied very much according to circumstances, as well as their regulations and deportment. Sometimes they consisted of thousands, sometimes of simple tens. Sometimes, with the strictest discipline and the most unshrinking valour, they entered into the service of kings, and decided the fate of empires; sometimes they were little better than roving bands of robbers, that lived by rapine and hardly acknowledged law. Most frequently, however, in the age of which we treat, they volunteered their support to the armies of their own sovereign or his own allies, and often proved more active than the body they came to aid.

However, if Theseus had played at pitch-and-toss with Ariadne's clue, he would never have slain the Minotaur; and, therefore, we must go on with the thread of our own story, notwithstanding a strong inclination to pause and sport with the subject of the adventurers. Nevertheless, thus much we will say: if our readers wish a treat, let them read the delightful old Mémoires of Fleuranges--"L'Aventurier," as he calls himself--which for simplicity, and, if I may use the term, bonhommie of style, for curious incident and romantic adventure, is far superior to any romance that ever was written. Many curious particulars, also, concerning the appearance and conduct of the adventurers, may be found in the letters of Clement Marot to Marguerite de Valois.

But to proceed. The next morning, by day-break, Sir Osborne and his companion were once more on horseback, and on their way to Mount Cassel, the knight having determined to learn, in the first place, the views of Shoenvelt, and to examine the real state of his troops, before he offered himself as a companion in the adventure. In case he found their object such as he could not himself seek, his mind was hardly made up whether to offer his services to the emperor, or to Francis King of France. His old habits, indeed, tended to make him prefer the imperial army; but, from all he had heard of the new chief of the German confederacy, there was a sort of cold-blooded, calculating policy in his every action, that little accorded with the warm and chivalrous feelings of the young knight; while, at the same time, there was in the whole conduct of Francis a noble, candid generosity of heart: a wild, enthusiastic spirit of daring and adventure, that wonderfully attracted Sir Osborne towards him.

Journeying on with a quick pace, Mount Cassel soon rose to the traveller's sight, starting out of the vast plains in which it stands, like some high spirit towering above the flat multitude.

Sweeping round its base, the knight turned his horse towards a lesser hill, at about two miles' distance, the top of which was in that day crowned by the castle of Shoenvelt. From the plain below, as the eye wandered up the side of the mountain, amidst the wood and broom that covered the rock in large masses, might be seen peeping forth wall, and bastion, and outwork, while higher up, in zigzag lines upon the clear background of the sky, appeared the towers and battlements of the castle, with the tall donjon rising above them all, and the banner of Shoenvelt, bearing sable a saltier gules, floating in the sunshine.

A broad, fair road offered itself for the travellers' horses, winding along a narrow rocky ridge, which was the only part that, slowly descending, joined the hill gradually to the plain. All the rest was steep and precipitous, and too well guarded by nature to be liable to attack; while overhanging this sole approach might be seen on every side many a frowning defence, well prepared against any hostile footstep. Gradually, as the road wound upwards, it grew narrower and more narrow, confined between two high banks, commanded by the towers of the castle, while the road itself was completely raked by the guns of the barbican.