It was indeed most mortifying for the monk to be beaten by foes for whom he had recently expressed such contempt, and Eustace made great efforts to redeem the fortune of the day, and a terrible struggle ensued. The English, bearing their axes, boarded the ships of their adversaries, and engaged hand to hand with all the fury which national animosity could inspire, directing their energy especially against the ship on board of which Eustace the Monk was fighting with the courage of despair and hurling defiance at his foes. Great indeed was his fury.
The combat, however, became every moment less and less doubtful. The English, accustomed to the narrow seas, fought as if on their native element, while the French, unused to naval warfare, found that they were fighting at great disadvantage, and soon lost courage and hope. Many in their despair and perplexity threw themselves into the sea, and sank to rise no more, while others, seeing that all was lost, threw down their arms and yielded themselves prisoners. But still Eustace struggled on, as if sternly resolved rather to die than yield. At length, however, Richard, son of King John, who had boarded the ship of the pirate chief, axe in hand, shouted to his men to cut away the rigging that supported the mast and yards, and “the expanding sail falling,” says the chronicler, “the French were caught like birds in a net.”
The English now raised the cry of victory, and the heart of Eustace the Monk at length failing him, he attempted to save himself by hiding in the hold. But he could not avoid any more than he could resist his fate, and being discovered he was instantly dragged on deck and surrounded by his foes. Overwhelmed by a sense of the danger in which he found himself, the pirate begged that his life might be spared, and offered to pay a large sum of money as ransom.
“No,” cried the English, who hated him for the mischief he had wrought them, and also because his brothers had seized some of the isles, and commenced a system of piracy which was ruinous to English commerce; “you are a pirate, and not entitled to the privileges of honourable warriors.”
“I will not only pay a large ransom,” urged Eustace, passionately, “but I promise faithfully in future to serve your King Henry. Only spare my life!”
“No, wicked traitor!” cried Richard, the son of King John. “Never again in this world shall you deceive any one with your false promises.” And as he spoke the bastard’s sword waved in the air, and next moment the head of Eustace the Monk rolled on the deck.
And now all was over, and the mariners of the Cinque Ports, taking their prizes in tow, returned with them and a host of prisoners to Dover. As soon as they neared the coast, the Bishop of Winchester, attended by the garrison of Dover and the people of the town, came forth to meet them, singing psalms and praising God for the victory that had been vouchsafed to them. The news of Hubert de Burgh’s success at sea ran quickly through the country; and Prince Louis, and the captains who commanded the castles which he held, learned with dismay that the great armament fitted out by Blanche of Castile, and intended to complete the conquest of England, no longer existed. Louis and his captains trembled at the perils of their position, as they well might, for the destruction of the armament commanded by Eustace the Monk was not the only blow which Fortune had struck at the enterprise on which the heir of France had ventured at the request of the Anglo-Norman barons.
CHAPTER XLVII
THE SIEGE OF MOUNT SORREL
SEVEN miles to the north of Leicester, built on a steep and rugged hill, overlooking the river Soar, with a fair town and priory at its feet, the castle of Mount Sorrel, in the spring of 1217, frowned with feudal pride, and seemed to bid defiance to all comers. It was not, however, so impregnable as it looked, but had more than once changed hands during the terrible and sanguinary conflict then raging in England. However, the custody of Mount Sorrel was claimed as part of his inheritance by Sayer de Quency, Earl of Winchester, one of the twenty-five conservators of the Great Charter, and held by his deputy, Henry de Braybroke, in the interest of Prince Louis and the Anglo-Norman barons.
Mount Sorrel, however, was deemed a very important stronghold; and the Earl of Pembroke was anxious to gain possession of it for the king, with the object, as would appear from the result, of levelling it with the ground on which it stood. No sooner, therefore, did the protector’s truce with Louis expire, than Pembroke mustered an army, and, carrying the boy-king with him, marched to Mount Sorrel and laid siege to the castle, with such an appearance of determination to make himself master of the stronghold, that Henry de Braybroke, in great alarm, sent messengers to De Quency, declaring that, unless reinforced, he could not long hold out against such overwhelming odds.