Philip Augustus; or, The Brothers in Arms

by G. P. R. James

"I have already, my lord," said De Coucy, "presumed, even before bearing you this news, to defy king John before his court; and, accusing him of this foul murder, to dare his barons--all, or any who should deny the fact--to meet me in arms, upon the quarrel."

"Ha!" cried Philip eagerly. "What said his nobles?--Did they believe your charge? Did they take up your gage, sir knight?"

"It seems, sire," replied De Coucy, "that the tidings of the prince's murder were already common amongst the English barons; and, from what I could gather, some of their body had already charged John of Anjou with it before I came. As to my gauntlet, several of the knights stepped forward to raise it--for, to do the lords of England justice, they are never backward to draw the sword, right or wrong--but Lord Pembroke interposed; and, taking up the gage, said that he would hold it in all honour, till the king should have cleared himself, to their satisfaction, of the accusation which I brought against him; hinting some doubt, however, that he could do so. Nevertheless, he promised either to meet me in arms in fair field of combat, or to return me my gage, acknowledging the king's quarrel to be bad."

"'Tis evident enough!" cried the king. "The barons of England--who are ever willing to support their monarch in any just cause," he added, with a peculiar emphasis, not exactly reproachful, but certainly intended to convey to the ears on which it fell a warning of the monarch's expectations,--"the barons of England are already aware of this hateful deed, or not one of them would for a moment hesitate to draw the sword in defence of his king. Poor Arthur!" he continued, casting his eyes on the ground, and letting his mind wander over the past,--"poor Arthur! thou wert as hopeful a youth as ever a mother was blessed withal--as fair, as engaging a boy--and now thine unhappy mother is sonless, as well widowed. I had hoped to have seated thee on the throne of thine ancestors, and to have made thy mother's heart glad in the sight of thy renewed prosperity. But thou art gone, poor child! and left few so fair and noble behind. In faith, lords! I could weep that boy's loss," continued the king, dashing a drop from his proud eye. "His youth promised so splendidly, that his manhood must have proved great.--Lord Abbot," he added gravely, turning to the abbot of Three Fountains, "you have marked what has passed this day--you have heard what I have heard,--and, if there needs any farther answer to him that sent you to preach me from my purpose of punishing a rebellious vassal, tell him that John of Anjou has added murder to treachery; and that Philip of France will never sheathe the sword till he has fully avenged the death of Arthur Plantagenet!"

"I have indeed heard what has passed, sire, with horror and dismay," replied the abbot; "but still, without at all seeking to impugn the faith or truth of this good knight, whose deeds in defence of the holy sepulchre have been heard of by all men, and warrant his Christian truth--yet still he saw not the murder committed."

Philip knit his brow and gnawed his lip impatiently, glancing his eye round the circle with a scornful and meaning smile; and muttering to himself, "Roman craft--Roman craft!"

Whether the abbot heard it or not, he took instantly a higher tone. "I irritate you, sir king!" said he, "by speaking truth; but still you must thus far hear me. The pope--the holy head of the common Christian church, finding himself called upon to exert all the powers entrusted to him for the deliverance of the holy city of Jerusalem, has resolved that he will compel all Christian kings to cease their private quarrels, and lay by their vindictive animosities, till the great object of giving deliverance to Christ's sepulchre be accomplished."

"Compel!" cried Philip, the living lightning flashing from his eyes. "By heaven! priest, the king he can compel to sheathe the sword of righteous vengeance out against a murderer is formed of different metal from Philip of France. So tell the pontiff! Let him cast again the interdict upon the land if he will. The next time I pray him to raise it, shall be at the gates of Rome with my lance in my hand, and my shield upon my breast. My supplication shall be the voice of trumpets, and my kneeling the trampling of my war-horse in the courts of the capitol.--What say ye, barons! Have I spoken well?"

"Well! Well! Well!" echoed the peers around, enraged beyond moderation at the prelate's daring protection of a murderer; and at the same moment the Duke of Burgundy laid the finger of his right hand upon the pommel of his sword, with a meaning glance towards the king.

"Ay, Burgundy, my noble friend! thou art right," said Philip; "with our swords we will show our freedom.--Look not scared, sir abbot, but know, that we are not such children as to be deceived with tales of holy wars, when the question is, whether a murderer shall be punished. Away with such pretences! This war against the assassin of my noble boy, Arthur of Brittany, is my holy war, and never was one more just and righteous.--Ha, Mountjoy!" he added, as the king of arms entered, "we have a task for thee, fitted for so noble a knight and so learned a herald. John of Anjou has murdered Arthur Plantagenet, his nephew, in prison. Here stands in witness thereof. Sir Guy de Coucy--"