St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers

As soon as an affirmative answer was given he placed his foot in the loop and shouted to the men above to draw up, and before the enraged enemy could reach the spot the whole party were already some yards above their heads. The archers opened fire upon the French, doing, in spite of the darkness, considerable execution, for the men had snatched up their arms at the sudden alarm, and had joined the fray in such haste that many of them had not had time to put on their steel caps. There was noise and bustle in the enemy's camp, for the whole force were now under arms, and in their anger at the sudden blow which had been struck them, some bodies of men even moved forward toward the walls as if they intended to renew the assault of the previous day; but the showers of arrows with which they were greeted cooled their ardor, and they presently retired out of reach of bow-shot. There was a respite now for the besiegers. No longer every few minutes did a heavy stone strike the walls.

The morning's light enabled the defenders of the castle to see the extent of the damage which the battering machine had effected. None too soon had they put a stop to its work, for had it continued its operations another hour or two would have effected a breach.

Already large portions of the wall facing it had fallen, and other portions were so seriously damaged that a few more blows would have leveled them.

"At any rate," Walter said to Ralph, "we have gained a respite; but even now I fear that if the Black Prince comes not until to-morrow he will arrive too late."

The French, apparently as well aware as the garrison of the necessity for haste, labored at the repair of the machine. Bodies of men started to cut down trees to supply the place of the beams which had been rendered useless. Scarcely had the assault ceased when horsemen were dispatched in various directions to seek for fresh ropes, and by dint of the greatest exertions the machine was placed in position to renew its attack shortly after noon.

By two o'clock several large portions of the damaged wall had fallen, and the débris formed a slope by which an assaulting column could rush to the bridge. As soon as this was manifest the French force formed for the assault and rushed forward in solid column.

Walter had made the best preparation possible for the defense. In the courtyard behind the breach his men had since morning been driving a circle of piles, connected by planks fastened to them. These were some five feet high, and along the top and in the face next to the breach sharp-pointed spikes and nails had been driven, rendering it difficult in the extreme for any one to climb over. As the column of the assailants approached Walter placed his archers on the walls on either side of the breach, while he himself, with his men-at-arms, took his station in the gap and faced the coming host. The breach was some ten yards wide, but it was only for about half this width that the mound of broken stones rendered it possible for their enemies to assault, consequently there was but a space of some fifteen feet in width to be defended. Regardless of the flights of arrows, the French, headed by their knights and squires, advanced to the assault, and clambering up the rough stones attacked the defenders.

Walter, with Ralph and three of his best men-at-arms, stood in the front line and received the first shock of the assault. The roughness and steepness of the mound prevented the French from attacking in regular order, and the very eagerness of the knights and squires who came first in contact with their enemies was a hindrance to them. When the columns were seen gathering for the assault Walter had scattered several barrels full of oil and tar which he found in the cellars over the mound in front of the breach, rendering it greasy and slippery, and causing the assailants to slip and stagger and many to fall as they pressed forward to the assault. Before the fight commenced he had encouraged his soldiers by recalling to them how a mere handful of men had at Cressy withstood for hours the desperate efforts of the whole of the French army to break through their line, and all were prepared to fight to the death.

The struggle was a desperate one. Served by their higher position, and by the difficulties which the French encountered from the slipperiness of the ground and their own fierce ardor to attack, Walter and his little band for a long time resisted every effort. He with his sword and Ralph with his heavy mace did great execution, and they were nobly seconded by their men-at-arms. As fast as one fell another took his place. The breach in front of them was cumbered with dead and red with blood. Still the French poured upward in a wave, and the sheer weight of their numbers and the fatigue caused by the tremendous exertions the defenders were making began to tell. Step by step the English were driven back, and Walter saw that the defense could not much longer be continued. He bade one of his men-at-arms at once order the archers to cease firing, and, leaving the walls, to take refuge in the keep, and thence to open fire upon the French as they poured through the breach.

When he found that this movement had been accomplished Walter bade the men-at-arms fall back gradually. A gap had been left in the wooden fence sufficient for one at a time to pass, and through this the men-at-arms retired one by one to the keep until only Walter and five others were left. With these Walter flung himself suddenly upon the assailants and forced them a few feet down the slope. Then he gave the word, and all sprang back, and leaping down from the wall into the court-yard ran through the barrier, Walter and Ralph being the last to pass as the French with exulting shouts leaped down from the breach.

There was another fierce fight at the barrier. Walter left Ralph to defend this with a few men-at-arms while he saw that all was in readiness for closing the door rapidly in the keep. Then he ran back again. He was but just in time. Ralph indeed could for a long time have held the narrow passage, but the barriers themselves were yielding. The French were pouring in through the breach, and as those behind could not see the nature of the obstacle which arrested the advance of their companions they continued to push forward, and by their weight pressed those in front against the spikes in the barrier. Many perished miserably on these. Others, whose armor protected them from this fate, were crushed to death by the pressure; but this was now so great that the timbers were yielding. Walter, seeing that in another moment they would be leveled, gave the word, sprang back with Ralph and his party, and entered the keep just as with a crash the barrier fell and the French poured in a crowd into the court-yard. Bolting the door the defenders of the keep piled against it the stones which had been laid in readiness.

The door was on the first floor, and was approached by a narrow flight of stone steps, up which but two abreast could advance. In their first fury the French poured up these steps, but from the loop-holes which commanded it the English bowmen shot so hard that their arrows pierced the strongest armor. Smitten through visor and armor, numbers of the bravest of the assailants fell dead. Those who gained the top of the steps were assailed by showers of boiling oil from an upper chamber which projected over the door, and whose floor was pierced for this purpose, while from the top of the keep showers of stones were poured down. After losing great numbers in this desperate effort at assault the French drew off for awhile, while their leaders held council as to the best measures to be taken for the capture of the keep.

After a time Walter from the summit saw several bodies of men detach themselves from the crowd still without the castle and proceed into the country. Two hours later they were seen returning laden with trunks of trees. These were dragged through the breach, and were, in spite of the efforts of the archers and of the men-at-arms with their stones, placed so as to form a sort of penthouse against one side of the keep. Numbers of the soldiers now poured up with sacks and all kinds of vessels which they had gathered from the surrounding villages, filled with earth. This was thrown over the beams until it filled all the crevices between them and formed a covering a foot thick, so that neither boiling oil nor water poured from above could penetrate to injure those working beneath its shelter. When all was ready a strong body armed with picks and crowbars entered the penthouse and began to labor to cut away the wall of the keep itself.

"Their commander knows his business," Walter said, "and the device is an excellent one. We can do nothing, and it only depends upon the strength of the wall how long we can hold out. The masonry is by no means good, and before nightfall, unless aid comes, there will be naught for us but death or surrender."

CHAPTER XVI.

A PRISONER

As long as it was light an anxious lookout was kept from the top of the keep toward Calais. There was nothing to be done. The besiegers who had entered the walls were ensconced in the various buildings in the court-yard or placed behind walls so as to be out of arrow-shot from above, and were in readiness to repel any sortie which might be made to interfere with the work going on under the penthouse. But no sortie was possible, for to effect this it would be necessary to remove the stones from the door, and before this could be accomplished the besiegers would have rallied in overwhelming force, nor could a sortie have effected anything beyond the slaying of the men actually engaged in the work. The beams of the penthouse were too strong and too heavily weighted with earth to be removed, and the attempt would only have entailed useless slaughter. The penthouse was about forty feet in length, and the assailants were piercing three openings, each of some six feet in width, leaving two strong supporting pillars between them. Anxiously the garrison within listened to the sounds of work, which became louder and louder as the walls crumbled before the stroke of pickax and crowbar.

"I shall hold out until the last moment," Walter said to Ralph, "in hopes of relief, but before they burst in I shall sound a parley. To resist further would be a vain sacrifice of life."

Presently a movement could be seen among the stones, and then almost simultaneously two apertures appeared. The chamber into which the openings were made was a large one, being used as the common room of the garrison. Here twenty archers and the remaining men-at-arms – of whom nearly one-half had fallen in the defense of the breach – were gathered, and the instant the orifices appeared the archers began to send their arrows through them. Then Walter ascended to another chamber, and ordered the trumpeter to sound a parley.

The sound was repeated by the assailants' trumpeter.

"Who commands the force?" Walter asked.

"I, Guy, Count of Evreux."

"I am Sir Walter Somers," the young knight continued. "I wish to ask terms for the garrison."

"You must surrender unconditionally," the count replied from the court-yard. "In ten minutes we shall have completely pierced your walls, and you will be at our mercy."

"You may pierce our walls," Walter replied, "but it will cost you many lives before you force your way in; we will defend the hold from floor to floor, and you know how desperate men can fight. It will cost you scores of lives before you win your way to the summit of this keep; but if I have your knightly word that the lives of all within these walls shall be spared, then will I open the doors and lay down our arms."

A consultation took place between the leaders below. There was truth in Walter's words that very many lives would be sacrificed before the resistance of so gallant a garrison could be overcome. Every minute was of importance, for it was possible that at any moment aid might arrive from Calais, and that the table would be turned upon the besiegers. Therefore, after a short parley among themselves, the count replied:

"You have fought as a gallant knight and gentleman, Sir Walter Somers, and have wrought grievous harm upon my leading. I should grieve that so brave a knight should lose his life in a useless resistance. Therefore I agree to your terms, and swear upon my knightly honor that upon your surrendering yourselves prisoners of war, the lives of all within these walls shall be spared."

Walter at once gave the order. The stones were removed and the door thrown open, and leading his men Walter descended the steps into the court-yard, which was now illuminated with torches, and handed his sword to the Count of Evreux.

"You promised me, count," a tall knight standing by his side said, "that if he were taken alive, the commander of this castle should be my prisoner."

"I did so, Sir Philip Holbeaut. When you proposed this adventure to me, and offered to place your following at my command, I agreed to the request you made me; but mind," he said sternly, "my knightly word has been given for his safety. See that he receives fair and gentle treatment at your hand. I would not that aught should befall so brave a knight."

"I seek him no harm," the knight said angrily; "but I know that he is one of the knights of the Black Prince's own suit, and that his ransom will be freely paid, and as my coffers are low from the expenses of the war, I would fain replenish them at the expense of the English prince."

"I said not that I doubted you, Sir Philip," the count said calmly; "but as the knight surrendered on my word, it was needful that I should warn you to treat him as I myself should do did he remain in my hands, and to give him fair treatment until duly ransomed."

"I should be glad, count," Walter said, "if you will suffer me to take with me as companion in my captivity this man-at-arms. He is strongly attached to me, and we have gone through many perils together; it will lighten my captivity to have him by my side."

"Surely I will do so, Sir Walter, and wish that your boon had been a larger one. The rest I will take back with me to Amiens, there to hold until exchanged for some of those who at various times have fallen into your king's hands. And now to work, men; lose not a moment in stripping the castle of all that you choose to carry away, then apply fire to the storehouses, granaries, and the hold itself. I would not that it remained standing to serve as an outpost for the English."

The horses were brought from the stables. Walter and Ralph took their horses by the bridle, and followed Sir Philip Holbeaut through the now open gates of the castle to the spot where the horses of the besiegers were picketed. The knight and his own men-at-arms, who had at the beginning of the day numbered a hundred and fifty, but who were now scarcely two thirds of that strength, at once mounted with their prisoners, and rode off from the castle. A few minutes later a glare of light burst out from behind them. The count's orders had been obeyed; fire had been applied to the stores of forage, and soon the castle of Près was wrapped in flames.

"I like not our captor's manner," Ralph said to Walter as they rode along side by side.

"I agree with you, Ralph. I believe that the reason which he gave the count for his request was not a true one, though, indeed, I can see no other motive which he could have for seeking to gain possession of me. Sir Philip, although a valiant knight, bears but an indifferent reputation. I have heard that he is a cruel master to his serfs, and that when away fighting in Germany he behaved so cruelly to the peasantry that even the Germans, who are not nice in their modes of warfare, cried out against him. It is an evil fortune that has thrown us into his hands; still, although grasping and avaricious, he can hardly demand for a simple knight any inordinate ransom. The French themselves would cry out did he do so, seeing that so large a number of their own knights are in our hands, and that the king has ample powers of retaliation; however, we need not look on the dark side. It is not likely that our captivity will be a long one, for the prince, who is the soul of generosity, will not haggle over terms, but will pay my ransom as soon as he hears into whose hands I have fallen, while there are scores of men-at-arms prisoners whom he can exchange for you. Doubtless Sir Philip will send you over as soon as he arrives at his castle, with one of his own followers, to treat for my ransom."

After riding for some hours the troop halted their weary horses in a wood, and lighting fires, cooked their food, and then lay down until morning. Sir Philip exchanged but few words with his captive; as, having removed his helm, he sat by the fire, Walter had an opportunity of seeing his countenance. It did not belie his reputation. His face had a heavy and brutal expression which was not decreased by the fashion of his hair, which was cut quite short, and stood up without parting all over his bullet-shaped head; he had a heavy and bristling mustache which was cut short in a line with his lips.

"It is well," Walter thought to himself, "that it is my ransom rather than my life which is dear to that evil-looking knight; for, assuredly, he is not one to hesitate did fortune throw a foe into his hands."

At daybreak the march was resumed, and was continued until they reached the castle of Sir Philip Holbeaut, which stood on a narrow tongue of land formed by a sharp bend of the Somme.

On entering the castle the knight gave an order to his followers, and the prisoners were at once led to a narrow cell beneath one of the towers. Walter looked round indignantly when he arrived there.

"This is a dungeon for a felon," he exclaimed, "not the apartment for a knight who has been taken captive in fair fight. Tell your master that he is bound to award me honorable treatment, and that unless he removes me instantly from this dungeon to a proper apartment, and treats me with all due respect and courtesy, I will, when I regain my liberty, proclaim him a dishonored knight."

The men-at-arms made no reply; but, locking the door behind them, left the prisoners alone.

"What can this mean, Ralph?" Walter exclaimed. "We are in the lowest dungeon, and below the level of the river. See how damp are the walls, and the floor is thick with slimy mud. The river must run but just below that loop-hole, and in times of flood probably enters here."

Philip of Holbeaut, on dismounting, ascended to an upper chamber, where a man in the dress of a well-to-do citizen was sitting.

"Well, Sir Philip," he exclaimed, rising to his feet as the other entered, "what news?"

"The news is bad," the knight growled. "This famous scheme of yours has cost me fifty of my best men. I would I had had nothing to do with it."

"But this Walter Somers," the other exclaimed, "what of him? He has not escaped, surely! The force which marched from Amiens was large enough to have eaten him and his garrison."

"He has not escaped," the knight replied.

"Then he is killed!" the other said eagerly.