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

"No; nor is he killed. He is at present a prisoner in a dungeon below, together with a stout knave whom he begged might accompany him until ransomed."

"All is well, then," the other exclaimed. "Never mind the loss of your men. The money which I have promised you for this business will hire you two hundred such knaves; but why didst not knock him on the head at once?"

"It was not so easy to knock him on the head," Sir Philip growled. "It cost us five hundred men to capture the outer walls, and to have fought our way into the keep, held as it was by men who would have contested every foot of the ground, was not a job for which any of us had much stomach, seeing what the first assaults had cost us; so the count took them all to quarter. The rest he carried with him to Amiens; but their leader, according to the promise which he made me, he handed over to me as my share of the day's booty, giving me every charge that he should receive good and knightly treatment."

"Which, no doubt, you will observe," the other said, with an ugly laugh.

"It is a bad business," the knight exclaimed angrily, "and were it not for our friendship in Spain, and the memory of sundry deeds which we did together, not without profit to our purses, I would rather that you were thrown over the battlements into the river than I had taken a step in this business. However, none can say that Philip of Holbeaut ever deserted a friend who had proved true to him, not to mention that the sum which you promised me for my aid in this matter will, at the present time, prove wondrously convenient. Yet I foresee that it will bring me into trouble with the Count of Evreux. Ere many days a demand will come for the fellow to be delivered on ransom."

"And what will you say?" the other asked.

"I shall say what is the truth," the knight replied, "though I may add something that is not wholly so. I shall say that he was drowned in the Somme. I shall add that it happened as he was trying to make his escape, contrary to the parole he had given; but in truth he will be drowned in the dungeon in which I have placed him, which has rid me of many a troublesome prisoner before now. The river is at ordinary times but two feet below the loop-hole; and when its tide is swelled by rain it often rises above the sill, and then there is an end of any one within. They can doubt my word; but there are not many who would care to do so openly; none who would do so for the sake of an unknown English knight. And as for any complaints on the part of the Black Prince, King Philip has shown over and over again how little the complaints of Edward himself move him."

"It were almost better to knock him on the head at once," the other said thoughtfully; "the fellow has as many lives as a cat."

"If he had as many as nine cats," the knight replied, "it would not avail him. But I will have no violence. The water will do your work as well as a poniard, and I will not have it said, even among such ruffians as mine, that I slew a captured knight. The other will pass as an accident, and I care not what my men may think as long as they can say nothing for a surety. The count may storm as much as he will, and may even lay a complaint against me before the king; but in times like the present, even a simple knight who can lead two hundred good fighting men into the field is not to be despised, and the king is likely to be easily satisfied with my replies to any question that may be raised. Indeed, it would seem contrary to reason that I should slay a captive against whom I have no cause of quarrel, and so forfeit the ransom which I should get for him."

"But suppose that a messenger should come offering ransom before the river happens to rise?"

"Then I shall anticipate matters, and shall say that what I know will happen has already taken place. Do not be uneasy, Sir James. You have my word in the matter, and now I have gone so far, I shall carry it through. From the moment when I ordered him into that dungeon his fate was sealed, and in truth, when I gave the order I did so to put an end to the indecision in which my mind had been all night. Once in there he could not be allowed to come out alive, for his report of such treatment would do me more harm among those of my own station in France than any rumors touching his end could do. It is no uncommon affair for one to remove an enemy from one's path; but cruelty to a knightly prisoner would be regarded with horror. Would you like to have a look at him?"

The other hesitated. "No," he replied. "Against him personally I have no great grudge. He has thwarted my plans, and stands now grievously in the way of my making fresh ones; but as he did so from no ill-will toward myself, but as it were by hazard, I have no personal hatred toward him, though I would fain remove him from my path. Besides, I tell you fairly, that even in that dungeon where you have thrown him I shall not feel that he is safe until you send me word that he is dead. He has twice already got out of scrapes when other men would have been killed. Both at Vannes and at Ghent he escaped in a marvelous way; and but a few weeks since, by the accident of his having a coat of mail under his doublet he saved his life from as fair a blow as ever was struck. Therefore I would not that he knew aught of my having a hand in this matter, for if after having seen me he made his escape I could never show my face in England again. I should advise you to bid three or four men always enter his cell together, for he and that man-at-arms who follows him like a shadow are capable of playing any desperate trick to escape."

"That matter is easily enough managed," Sir Philip said grimly, "by no one entering the dungeon at all. The river may be slow of rising, though in sooth the sky looks overcast now, and it is already at its usual winter level; and whether he dies from lack of water or from a too abundant supply matters but little to me; only, as I told you, I will give no orders for him to be killed. Dost remember that Jew we carried off from Seville and kept without water until he agreed to pay us a ransom which made us both rich for six months? That was a rare haul, and I would that rich Jews were plentiful in this country."

"Yes, those were good times," the other said, "although I own that I have not done badly since the war began, having taken a count and three knights prisoners, and put them to ransom, and having reaped a goodly share of plunder from your French burghers, else indeed I could not have offered you so round a sum to settle this little matter for me. There are not many French knights who have earned a count's ransom in the present war. And now I will take horse; here is one-half of the sum I promised you, in gold nobles. I will send you the remainder on the day when I get news from you that the matter is finished."

"Have your money ready in a week's time," the knight replied, taking the bag of gold which the other placed on the table, "for by that time you will hear from me. I hope this will not be the last business which we may do together; there ought to be plenty of good chances in a war like this. Any time that you can send me word of an intended foray by a small party under a commander whose ransom would be a high one I will share what I get with you; and similarly I will let you know of any rich prize who may be pounced upon on the same terms."

"Agreed!" the other said. "We may do a good business together in that way. But you lie too far away. If you move up as near as you can to Calais and let me know your whereabout, so that I could send or ride to you in a few hours, we might work together with no small profit."

"I will take the field as soon as this affair of yours is settled," the knight replied; "and the messenger who brings you the news shall tell you where I may be found. And now, while your horse is being got ready, let us drink a stoop of wine together in memory of old times, though, for myself, these wines of ours are poor and insipid beside the fiery juice of Spain."

While this conversation, upon which their fate so much depended, had been going on, Walter and Ralph had been discussing the situation, and had arrived at a tolerably correct conclusion.

"This conduct on the part of this brutal French knight, Ralph, is so strange that methinks it cannot be the mere outcome of his passions or of hate against me as an Englishman, but of some deeper motive; and we were right in thinking that in bargaining for my person with the Count of Evreux it was more than my ransom which he sought. Had that been his only object he would never have thrown us into this noisome dungeon, for my report of such treatment would bring dishonor upon him in the eyes of every knight and noble in France as well as in England. It must be my life he aims at, although what grudge he can have against me it passes me to imagine. It may be that at Cressy or elsewhere some dear relative of his may have fallen by my sword; and yet were it so, men nourish no grudge for the death of those killed in fair fight. But this boots not at present. It is enough for us that it is my life which he aims at, and I fear, Ralph, that yours must be included with mine, since he would never let a witness escape to carry the foul tale against him. This being so, the agreement on which I surrendered is broken, and I am free to make my escape if I can, and methinks the sooner that be attempted the better. So let us to work to plan how we may best get out of this place. After our escape from that well at Vannes we need not despair about breaking out from this dungeon of Holbeaut."

"We might overpower the guard who brings our food," Ralph said.

"There is that chance," Walter rejoined, "but I think it is a poor one. They may be sure that this dishonorable treatment will have rendered us desperate, and they will take every precaution and come well armed. It may be, too, that they will not come at all, but that they intend us to die of starvation, or perchance to be drowned by the floods, which it is easy to see often make their way in here. No, our escape, if escape there be, must be made through that loop-hole above. Were that bar removed methinks it is wide enough for us to squeeze through. Doubtless such a hazard has not occurred to them, seeing that it is nigh twelve feet above the floor and that a single man could by no possibility reach it, but with two of us there is no difficulty. Now, Ralph, do you stand against the wall. I will climb upon your shoulders and standing there can reach the bar and so haul myself up and look out."

This was soon done, and Walter, seizing the bar, hauled himself up so that he could see through the loop-hole.

"It is as I thought," he said. "The waters of the Somme are but a foot below the level of this window; the river is yellow and swollen, and a few hours' heavy rain would bring it above the level of this sill. Stand steady, Ralph, I am coming down again."

When he reached the ground he said:

"Take off your belt, Ralph; if we buckle that and mine together, passing it round the bar, it will make a loop upon which we can stand at the window and see how best we can loosen the bar. Constantly wet as it is, it is likely that the mortar will have softened, in which case we shall have little difficulty in working it out."

The plan was at once put into execution; the belts were fastened together, and Walter standing on Ralph's shoulders passed one end around the bar and buckled it to the other, thus making a loop some three feet in length; putting a foot in this he was able to stand easily at the loop-hole.

"It is put in with mortar at the top, Ralph, and the mortar has rotted with the wet, but at the bottom lead was poured in when the bar was set and this must be scooped out before it can be moved. Fortunately the knight gave no orders to his men to remove our daggers when we were thrust in here, and these will speedily dig out the lead; but I must come down first, for the strap prevents my working at the foot of the bar. We must tear off a strip of our clothing and make a shift to fasten the strap half-way up the bar so as not to slip down with our weight."

In order to accomplish this Walter had to stand upon Ralph's head to gain additional height. He presently, after several attempts, succeeded in fixing the strap firmly against the bar half-way up, and then placing one knee in the loop and putting an arm through the bar to steady himself, he set to work at the lead. The sharp point of the dagger quickly cut out that near the surface, but further down the hole narrowed and the task was much more difficult. Several times Ralph relieved him at the work, but at last it was accomplished, and the bar was found to move slightly when they shook it. There now remained only to loosen the cement above, and this was a comparatively easy task; it crumbled quickly before the points of their daggers, and the bar was soon free to move.

"Now," Walter said, "we have to find out whether the bar was first put in from below or from above; one hole or the other must be a good deal deeper than the iron, so that it was either shoved up or pushed down until the other end could get under or over the other hole. I should think most likely the hole is below, as if they held up the bar against the top, when the lead was poured in it would fill up the space; so we will first of all try to lift it. I must stand on your head again to enable me to be high enough to try this."

"My head is strong enough, I warrant," Ralph replied, "but I will fold up my jerkin, and put on it, for in truth you hurt me somewhat when you were tying the strap to the bar."

All Walter's efforts did not succeed in raising the bar in the slightest, and he therefore concluded that it had been inserted here and lifted while the space was filled with lead. "It is best so," he said; "we should have to cut away the stone either above or below, and can work much better below. Now I will put my knee in the strap again and set to work. The stone seems greatly softened by the wet, and will yield to our daggers readily enough. It is already getting dark, and as soon as we have finished we can start."

As Walter had discovered, the stone was rotten with the action of the weather, and although as they got deeper it became much harder, it yielded to the constant chipping with their daggers, and in two hours Ralph, who at the moment happened to be engaged, announced to Walter that his dagger found its way under the bottom of the bar. The groove was soon made deep enough for the bar to be moved out; but another hour's work was necessary, somewhat further to enlarge the upper hole, so as to allow the bar to have sufficient play. Fortunately it was only inserted about an inch and a half in the stone, and the amount to be cut away to give it sufficient play was therefore not large. Then at last all was ready for their flight.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CAPTURE OF CALAIS

When the bar was once ready for removal the captives delayed not a minute, for although it was now so late that there was little chance of a visit being paid them, it was just possible that such might be the case, and that it might occur to the knight that it would be safer to separate them.

"Now, Ralph, do you go first, since I am lighter and can climb up by means of the strap, which you can hold from above; push the bar out and lay it down quietly in the thickness of the wall. A splash might attract the attention of the sentries, though I doubt whether it would, for the wind is high and the rain falling fast. Unbuckle the strap before you move the bar, as otherwise it might fall and I should have difficulty in handing it to you again. Now, I am steady against the wall."

Ralph seized the bar and with a great effort pushed the bottom from him. It moved through the groove without much difficulty, but it needed a great wrench to free the upper end. However, it was done, and laying it quietly down he pulled himself up and thrust himself through the loop-hole. It was a desperate struggle to get through, for it was only just wide enough for his head to pass, and he was so squarely built that his body with difficulty followed. The wall was four feet wide, and as the loop-hole widened considerably without, there was, when he had once passed through from the inside, space enough for him to kneel down and lower one end of the strap to Walter. The latter speedily climbed up, and getting through the slit with much less trouble than Ralph had experienced – for although in height and width of shoulder he was his equal, he was less in depth than his follower – he joined him in the opening, Ralph sitting with his feet in the water in order to make room for him.

The dungeon was upon the western side of the castle, and consequently the stream would be with them in making for shore. It was pitch-dark, but they knew that the distance they would have to swim could not exceed forty or fifty yards.

"Keep along close by the wall, Ralph. If we once get out in the stream we might lose our way; we will skirt the wall until it ends, then there is a cut, for as you saw when we entered, the moat runs right across this neck. If we keep a bit further down and then land we shall be fairly beyond the outworks."

Ralph slipped down into the water, and followed by Walter swam along at the foot of the wall. They had already been deprived of their armor, but had luckily contrived to retain their daggers in their belts, which they had again girdled on before entering the water. The stream hurried them rapidly along, and they had only to keep themselves afloat. They were soon at the corner of the castle. A few strokes further and they again felt the wall which lined the moat. The stream still swept them along, they felt the masonry come to an end, and bushes and shrubs lined the bank. They were beyond the outer defenses of the castle. Still a little further they proceeded down the stream in order to prevent the possibility of any noise they might make in scrambling up being heard by the sentinels on the outer postern. Then when they felt quite safe they grasped the bushes, and speedily climbed the bank. Looking back at the castle they saw lights still burning there. Short as was the time they had been in the water they were both chilled to the bone, for it was the month of February, and the water was bitterly cold.

"It cannot be more than nine o'clock now," Walter said, "for it is not more than four hours since darkness fell. They are not likely to visit the dungeon before eight or nine to-morrow, so we can rely upon twelve hours' start, and if we make the best of our time we ought to be far on our way by then, though in truth it is not fast traveling on a night like this through a strange country. I would that the stars were shining. However, the direction of the wind and rain will be a guide to us, and we shall soon strike the road we traveled yesterday, and can follow that till morning."

They were not long before they found the track, and then started at a brisk pace along it. All night they struggled on through wind and rain until the first dawn enabled them to see the objects in the surrounding country; and making for the forest which extended to within a mile of the road, they entered deep into its shelter, and there, utterly exhausted, threw themselves down on the wet ground. After a few hours of uneasy sleep they woke, and taking their place near the edge of the forest watched for the passage of any party which might be in pursuit, but until nightfall none came along.

"They have not discovered our flight," Ralph said at last, "or they would have passed long before this. Sir Philip doubtless imagines that we are drowned. The water was within a few inches of the sill when we started, and must soon have flooded the dungeon; and did he trouble to look in the morning, which is unlikely enough seeing that he would be sure of our fate, he would be unable to descend the stairs, and could not reach to the door, and so discover that the bar had been removed. No; whatever his motive may have been in compassing my death, he is doubtless satisfied that he has attained it, and we need have no further fear of pursuit from him. The rain has ceased, and I think that it will be a fine night; we will walk on, and if we come across a barn will make free to enter it, and stripping off our clothing to dry, will sleep in the hay, and pursue our journey in the morning. From our travel-stained appearance any who may meet us will take us for two wayfarers going to take service in the army at Amiens."

It was not until nearly midnight that they came upon such a place as they sought, then after passing a little village they found a shed standing apart. Entering it they found that it was tenanted by two cows. Groping about they presently came upon a heap of forage, and taking off their outer garments lay down on this, covering themselves thickly with it. The shed was warm and comfortable and they were soon asleep, and awaking at daybreak they found that their clothes had dried somewhat. The sun was not yet up when they started, but it soon rose, and ere noon their garments had dried, and they felt for the first time comfortable. They met but few people on the road, and these passed them with the ordinary salutations.

They had by this time left Amiens on the right, and by nightfall were well on their way toward Calais. Early in the morning they had purchased some bread at a village through which they passed; Walter's Norman-French being easily understood, and exciting no surprise or suspicion. At nightfall they slept in a shed within a mile of the ruins of the castle of Près, and late next evening entered the English encampment at New Town. After going to his tent, where he and Ralph changed their garments and partook of a hearty meal, Walter proceeded to the pavilion of the prince, who hailed his entrance with the greatest surprise.

"Why, Sir Walter," he exclaimed, "what good saint has brought you here? I have but an hour since received a message from the Count of Evreux to the effect that you were a prisoner in the hands of Sir Philip de Holbeaut, with whom I must treat for your ransom. I was purporting to send off a herald to-morrow to ask at what sum he held you; and now you appear in flesh and blood before us! But first, before you tell us your story, I must congratulate you on your gallant defense of the Castle of Près, which is accounted by all as one of the most valiant deeds of the war. When two days passed without a messenger from you coming hither, I feared that you were beleaguered, and started that evening with six hundred men-at-arms. We arrived at daybreak, to find only a smoking ruin. Luckily among the crowd of dead upon the breach we found one of your men-at-arms who still breathed, and after some cordial had been given him, and his wounds stanched, he was able to tell us the story of the siege. But it needed not his tale to tell us how stanchly you had defended the castle, for the hundreds of dead who lay outside of the walls, and still more the mass who piled the breach, and the many who lay in the castle yard spoke for themselves of the valor with which the castle had been defended. As the keep was gutted by fire, and the man could tell us naught of what had happened after he had been stricken down at the breach, we knew not whether you and your brave garrison had perished in the flames. We saw the penthouse beneath which they had labored to cut through the wall, but the work had ceased before the holes were large enough for entry, and we hoped that you might have seen that further resistance was in vain, and have made terms for your lives; indeed we heard from the country people that certain prisoners had been taken to Amiens. I rested one day at Près, and the next rode back here, and forthwith dispatched a herald to the Count of Evreux at Amiens asking for news of the garrison; but now he has returned with word that twenty-four men-at-arms and fifty-eight archers are prisoners in the count's hands, and that he is ready to exchange them against an equal number of French prisoners; but that you, with a man-at-arms, were in the keeping of Sir Philip of Holbeaut, with whom I must treat for your ransom. And now tell me how it is that I see you here. Has your captor, confiding in your knightly word to send him the sum agreed upon, allowed you to return? Tell me the sum and my treasurer shall to-morrow pay it over to a herald, who shall carry it to Holbeaut."

"Thanks, your royal highness, for your generosity," Walter replied, "but there is no ransom to be paid."

And he then proceeded to narrate the incidents of his captivity at Holbeaut and his escape from the castle. His narration was frequently interrupted by exclamations of surprise and indignation from the prince and the knights present.

"Well, this well-nigh passes all belief," the prince exclaimed when he had concluded. "It is an outrage upon all laws of chivalry and honor. What could have induced this caitiff knight, instead of treating you with courtesy and honor until your ransom arrived, to lodge you in a foul dungeon, where, had you not made your escape, your death would have been brought about that very night by the rising water? Could it be, think you, that his brain is distraught by some loss or injury which may have befallen him at our hands during the war and worked him up to a blind passion of hatred against all Englishmen?"

"I think not that, your royal highness," Walter replied. "His manner was cool and deliberate, and altogether free from any signs of madness. Moreover, it would seem that he had specially marked me down beforehand, since, as I have told you, he had bargained with the Count of Evreux for the possession of my person should I escape with life at the capture of the castle. It seems rather as if he must have had some private enmity against me, although what the cause may be I cannot imagine, seeing that I have never, to my knowledge, before met him, and have only heard his name by common report."