It is not wonderful that, the country being such as it was—so fruitful, so productive, so pleasant, and so picturesque—the King of England was eager to retain what had been saved, and to regain what had been lost, of the bright and beautiful territory which came to his ancestor, the second Henry, with the hand of Eleanor of Guienne. But, in truth, it was not merely because the land was bright and beautiful, ever blossoming and ever perfumed, with a sunny sky and a genial climate, and shady groves and gay vineyards, appearing in the eyes of strangers a terrestrial paradise, that it haunted the imagination and stirred the ambition of our Plantagenets. Far, indeed, and quite free were these politic princes from the weakness of allowing fancy to lead them captive, when dealing with the interests of the nation with whose history all their great triumphs in war and peace were associated in the mind of Europe. Policy, not fancy, prompted their efforts to retain and recover; for rich and fertile was the region watered by the Garonne and the Adour, and of mighty importance to their island home was the trade carried on between Bordeaux and the ports of England. It was of commerce, and the wealth which commerce creates, that our English kings thought; and it was because they deemed the possession of Guienne, with that old city on the left bank of the Garonne as its capital, essential to the prosperity of the country over which they reigned, that the Plantagenets clung tenaciously to the fragment of that empire which, in the days of their ancestor, the son of Geoffrey of Anjou and the Empress Maude, had extended from the Channel to the Pyrenees.
When I reached Bordeaux, to draw my sword, under the banner of England's heir, for the right of England's king to the territory which Philip Augustus had wrested from King John, the Prince of Wales was lodged in the abbey of St. Andrew, and his people were quartered within the city. Accordingly, I rode through the streets to the abbey, and, meeting Liulph, the archer, the companion of my struggle with the wild bull in Windsor Forest, I informed him of my desire to see the prince. Forthwith Liulph communicated my desire to a squire named Bernard, who was not without influence, and, at my request, conducted me to the presence of the young hero whose brows were, ere long, to be decked with trophies still prouder than the feather which he had won when its former owner, the blind King of Bohemia, fell in his memorable charge at Cressy.
"Welcome, Master Winram," said the prince, as I presented the letters with which I had been intrusted. "What news bring you from England?"
"Such, my lord, as it irks me to tell," replied I. "Never have the Scots been more insolent in their bearing—never more ferocious in their inroads. Again and again they have crossed the Border, burning and ravaging the country. Even now, it may be, the sky is red with the fires they have kindled in the North."
"And no sign of a truce—no prospect of a treaty?" said the prince with curiosity.
"None, my lord," answered I with emphasis. "Nor, to speak frankly," continued I earnestly, "do I opine, from what I have seen and heard, that, even if the Scots conclude truce or treaty, they will ever do so with any serious intent to be bound by one or the other, so long as their hatred of England and their predatory incursions are encouraged and rewarded by him whom they call King of France."
"Ha! by St. George!" exclaimed the prince thoughtfully, "I have for some time held such to be the case; and, if these letters from England confirm what you say, and what I believe, I know but one way that I can take to bring John of Valois to his senses, and render him powerless to bribe our enemies to destroy the life and property of Englishmen; and, by the memory of my sainted namesake who sleeps at Westminster, I will take that course, and steel my heart against compunction for the misery I may cause. For, mark you, it is only by destroying the provinces whence John of Valois draws the wealth with which he carries on the war to my prejudice as Duke of Guienne, and to the exclusion of my lord and father from the throne of France, which is his rightful inheritance, that we can influence his actions; and, therefore, if affairs wear not a new face ere a week passes, I have resolved, and it is my fixed purpose, to raise my banner and sally forth, and sweep the country as far, even, it may be, as the fertile province of Berry."
[CHAPTER LII]
THE PRINCE IN BLACK ARMOUR
One morning in July, 1356—orders having previously been issued that every man should be ready to march at the word of command—the trumpets of the Prince of Wales sounded, and, forthwith, all was bustle and excitement in Bordeaux. At break of day horses were saddled and warriors armed, and the leaders, having mustered the men who followed their banners, prepared to march into the provinces that owned John of Valois as King of France.