Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

"Come, Frederick," said the knight, "I will not go on to Aire, as I had determined; but, in order to gratify your wish for renown, we will lie about on the frontier, like true errant knights of old, at any village or other place where we may find shelter; and if we meet with Shoenvelt, or any of his, mind you do honour to your arms. We shall always have the odds of eight or nine against us."

"No, no, sir knight!" cried the young soldier; "do not believe that. It is one of his falsehoods; there are not above ten in any of the bands, and most of them are five or six. I know where most of them lie."

"Hush, hush!" cried Sir Osborne, raising his finger; "you must tell me nothing; so that, if you should chance to break a lance with him, your hand may not tremble at thinking you have betrayed his counsel. Nay, do not blush, Frederick. A man who aspires to chivalry must guide himself by stricter rules than other men. It was for this I spoke. Here is the fair river Lys, if I remember right."

"It is so, sir knight," replied the other; "there is a bridge about a mile lower down."

"What! for a brook like this?" cried Sir Osborne, spurring his horse in. "Oh, no; we will swim it. Follow!"

The young Hainaulter's horse did not like the plunge, and shied away from the brink. "Spur him in, spur him in!" cried Longpole. "If our lord reaches the other bank first, he will never forgive us. He swims like an otter himself, and fancies that his squires ought to be water-rats by birthright."

"Down with the left rein!" cried the knight, turning as his horse swam, and seeing the situation of his young follower. "Give him the spur, bring him to a demivolte, and he must in."

As the knight said, at the second movement of the demivolte, the horse's feet were brought to the very brink of the river, and a slight touch of the mullet made him plunge over; so that, though somewhat embarrassed with his lance in the water, Frederick soon reached the other bank in safety.

One of the beautiful Flemish meadows, which still in many parts skirt the banks of the Lys, presented itself on the other side; and beyond that, a forest that has long since known the rude touch of the heavy axe, which, like some fell enchanter's wand, has made so many of the loveliest woods in Europe disappear, without leaving a trace behind. The one we speak of was then in its full glory, sweeping along with a rich undulating outline by the side of the soft green plain that bordered the river, sometimes advancing close to the very brink, as if the giant trees of which it was composed sought to contemplate their grandeur in the watery mirror, sometimes falling far away, and leaving a wide open space between itself and the stream, covered with thick short grass, and strewed with the thousand flowers wherewith Nature's liberal hand has fondly decorated her favourite spring. Every here and there, too, the wood itself would break away, discovering a long glade penetrating into the deepest recesses of its bosom, filled with the rich, mellow forest light, that, streaming between every aperture, chequered the green, mossy path below, and showed a long perspective of vivid light and shade as far as the eye could reach.

It was up one of these that Sir Osborne took his way, willing to try the mettle of his new follower, and to initiate him into the trade of war, by a few of its first hardships and dangers, doubting not that Shoenvelt had taken advantage of that forest, situated as it was between Lillers and Aire, to post at least one party of his men therein. From what the youth had let drop, as well as from what he had himself observed, the knight was led to believe that the adventurer had greatly magnified the number of his forces; and he also concluded that, to avoid suspicion, he had divided his men into very small troops, except on such points as he expected the King of France himself to pass; and even there, Sir Osborne did not doubt that thirty men would be the extent of any one body, Francis's habit of riding almost unattended, with the fearless confidence natural to his character, being but too well known on the frontier.