Part 17

A party, despatched to reconnoitre, brought back intelligence that an army of eight times his force lay between him and Poitiers. Though without fear, the prince felt all the difficulties of his situation; yet his simple reply was--"God be our help!--now let us think how we may fight them to the best advantage."

A high ground, commanding the country toward Poitiers, defended by the hedges of a vineyard, and accessible from the city only by a hollow way scarcely wide enough to admit four men abreast, presented to him a most defensible position. Here he encamped, and early next morning, disposed his troops for battle. He dismounted his whole force; placed a body of archers, drawn up in the form of a harrow, in front, the men-at-arms behind, and stationed strong bodies of bowmen along the hedges, on each side of the hollow way. Thus, while climbing the hill, the French would be exposed to the galling flights of arrows, while the nature of the ground would further render their superiority in numbers of little avail.

The French host now began to advance;--yet, as its ocean of waving plumes rolled up the hill, the prince, in the same firm tone which had declared the day before, that England should never have to pay his ransom, now spoke the hope of victory.

Three hundred chosen horsemen soon reached the narrow way, and, putting their horses at full gallop, poured in to charge the harrow of archers. The instant they were completely within the banks, the English bowmen along the hedges poured a flight of arrows, which threw them at once into confusion.

The bodies of the slain men and horses soon blocked up the way; but a considerable number, forcing a path through every obstacle, nearly approached the first line of archers. A gallant knight, named James Audley, with his four squires, rushed against them; and thus, almost single-handed, he fought during the whole day, hewing a path through the thickest of the foe, until late in the evening; when, covered with many wounds, and fainting from loss of blood, he was borne from the field.

Meantime the shower of arrows continued to pour death, while the English men-at-arms, passing between the lines of the archers, drove back the foremost of the enemy, and the hollow soon became one scene of carnage. One of Edward's officers, named the Captal de Buch, at the same time issued from a woody ravine situated near the foot of the hill,--where, with three hundred men-at-arms and three hundred archers on horseback, he had lain concealed,--and attacked the flank of one of the divisions of the French army, commanded by the Dauphin, as it commenced the ascent. This, with the confusion in front, and a rumor that part of the army was beaten, carried terror into the rear ranks, and vast numbers, who had hardly seen an enemy, galloped madly from the field. The arrows discharged by the horse-archers now began to tell on the front line of the enemy:--the quick eye of Sir John Chandos marked it waver and open.

"Now, sir," he exclaimed, turning to the prince, "ride forward, and the day is yours. Let us charge right upon the King of France, for there lies the fate of the day. His courage, I know well, will not let him fly; but he shall be well encountered."

"On! on! Chandos," replied the prince, "you shall not see me tread one step back, but ever in advance. Bear on my banner! God and St. George be with us!"

The horses had been kept in readiness; and each man now springing into saddle, the army bore down on the enemy with levelled lances, the Captal de Buch forcing his way onward to regain the main body. The hostile forces met with a terrible shock, while the cries of "Denis Mountjoye!" "St. George, Guienne!" mingled with the clashing of steel, the shivering of lances, and the sound of the galloping steeds. The sight of the conflict struck terror into a body of sixteen thousand men, who had not yet drawn a sword. Panic seemed to seize them; and these fresh troops, instead of aiding their companions, fled disgracefully with their commander, the Duke of Orleans. This probably decided the day.

King John was now seen advancing with his reserve, in numbers still double the force of the English at the commencement of the battle. He saw his nobles flying, but though indignant, felt no alarm; then, dismounting with all his men, he led them, battle-axe in hand, against the English charge. The black armor of the young leader of the English rendered him also conspicuous; and, while the French king did feats of valor enough to win twenty battles if courage could have done all, the prince was seen raging like a young lion amid the thickest of the enemy. Knight to knight, and hand to hand, the battle was now fought. The French were driven back, step by step, till John found himself nearly at the gates of Poitiers, now shut against him. While, however, the oriflamme waved over his head, he would not believe the day lost; but, at length it went down, and his hopes fell with it. Surrounded on every side by foes eager to make him prisoner, he still wielded his battle-axe, clearing at each stroke the space around him and his little son, who had accompanied him through the fatal field. A knight of Artois, of gigantic height, who had been outlawed and had taken service with England, seeing that the monarch's life would be lost if he protracted his resistance, suddenly rushed into the circle.

"Yield, sire, yield!" he exclaimed in French.

"Who art thou?" inquired John.

"I am Denis de Mortbec, a poor knight of Artois," answered the outlaw, "but now in the service of England, because a banished man from my own country."

"Well, I yield me to you," cried the king, giving him in sign of surrender, his right gauntlet.

By this time nothing was seen but dead and dying on the field, with groups of prisoners, and parties of fugitives escaping over the distant country. The prince, by the advice of Chandos, now pitched his banner on a high spot; and, while the trumpets sounded a recall to the standard he dismounted, and, unbracing his helmet, took a draught of wine with the band of knights who had accompanied him throughout the arduous day.

The unfortunate French king was soon brought to him by the Earl of Warwick and Lord Cobham. The prince received his vanquished adversary with deep and touching respect. Bending his knee before John, he called for wine, and, with his own hands, presented the cup to the unhappy king.

By mid-day the battle was over; but, as the pursuing parties did not return till evening, it was only then that the prince learned the greatness of his victory. With eight thousand men he had vanquished more than sixty thousand, and the captives were double the number of the conquerors.

At night a sumptuous entertainment was served in the tent of the Black Prince to the King of France and the principal prisoners. John, his son, and six of his chief nobles, were seated at a table raised higher than the rest; but no place was reserved for the prince himself. Great was the surprise when the victor appeared to officiate as page. This in the days of chivalry implied no degradation, though it showed the generous humility of the young hero. John repeatedly entreated the prince to seat himself beside him, and could scarcely be persuaded to taste the food while his vanquisher remained standing, or handed him the cup on bended knee. The respectful manner in which the prince conducted himself, and the feeling he expressed for the misfortunes of his foe, so touched John, that at last the tears burst from his eyes, and mingled with the marks of blood on his checks.

The example of their leader was followed throughout the English camp; every one treating his prisoners as friends, and admitting them to ransom on terms named, in most cases, by the vanquished themselves.

After this event the prince again distinguished himself in France, for the claims of his father, which the treaty had in part recognized, were again disputed. Many battles were fought, and much negotiation was carried on, extending over several years; while in the midst of these harassments, the prince, who had long been ill, became worse. His surgeons advised his return to England. He complied; but day after day his strength failed him, and fainting fits of long continuance often led those around him to suppose him dead. At length, on Sunday, June 8, 1376, he closed a life which for years had been one sad scene of suffering. He was interred with due pomp in Canterbury Cathedral, his favorite suit of black armor being suspended over his tomb. Thus, scarcely past his prime, died "the valiant and gentle Prince of Wales, the flower of all chivalry in the world at that time."

BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN

(1314-1380)

Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France, the most famous French warrior of his age, was born of an ancient but undistinguished family, at the castle of La Motte-Broon, near Rennes, about 1314. The date is doubtful, the authorities varying between 1311 and 1324. The name is spelt in various ways in contemporary records, e.g., Claquin, Klesquin, Guescquin, Glayaquin, etc. The familiar form is found on his monument at St. Denis, and in some legal documents of the time. In his boyhood Bertrand was a dull learner, spending his time in open-air sports and exercises, and could never read or write. He was remarkable for ugliness, and was an object of aversion to his parents. He first made himself a name as a soldier at the tournament held at Rennes in 1338 to celebrate the marriage of Charles of Blois with Jeanne de Penthièvere, at which he unseated the most famous competitors.

But this playing at fighting was not enough for his ambition; and in the war which followed between Charles of Blois and John de Montfort, for the possession of the Duchy of Brittany, he served his apprenticeship as a soldier. As he was not a great baron with a body of vassals at his command, he put himself at the head of a band of adventurers, and fought on the side of Charles and of France. He distinguished himself by a brilliant action at the siege of Vannes in 1342; and after that he disappears from history for some years. In 1351, having shortly before been made a knight, he was sent into England with the lords of Brittany to treat for the ransom of Charles of Blois, who had been defeated and captured by the English in 1347. When Rennes was besieged by the Duke of Lancaster, in 1356, Du Guesclin forced his way with a handful of men into the town, and successfully defended it till June, 1357, when the siege was raised in pursuance of the truce of Bordeaux. For this service he was rewarded with the lordship of Roche d'Airien.

At the expiration of the truce he distinguished himself by the defence of Dinan, and here he engaged in single combat with Sir Thomas Canterbury. Shortly afterward he married; and about the same time he passed into the service of France, and greatly distinguished himself at the siege of Melun (1359). In April, 1364, in conjunction with Boucicault, he recovered Mantes and Meulan from the King of Navarre; and in May he defeated the Navarrese under Captal de Buch at Cocherel, and took their leader prisoner. The king now created him Marshal of Normandy and Count of Longueville. At the battle of Auray, in September of the same year, Charles of Blois was defeated and killed, and Du Guesclin taken prisoner, by Sir John Chandos.

The grand companies beginning, after the close of the war, to play the part of brigands in France, it was necessary to get rid of them. Du Guesclin was ransomed for 100,000 crowns, and was charged to lead them out of France. He marched with them into Spain, visiting Avignon on the way, and extorting from the Pope a large sum of money and his absolution. Du Guesclin now supported Henry of Trastamare against Peter the Cruel, set the former upon the throne of Castile (1366), and was made Constable of Castile and Count of Trastamare. In the following year he was defeated and captured by the Black Prince, ally of Peter the Cruel, at Najara, but was soon released for a heavy ransom. Once more he fought for Henry, reinstated him on the throne (1369), and was created Duke of Molinas.

In May, 1370, at the command of Charles V., who named him Constable of France, he returned to France. War had just been declared against England, and Du Guesclin was called to take part in it. For nearly ten years he was engaged in fighting against the English in the south and the west of France, recovering from them the provinces of Poitou, Guienne, and Auvergne, and thus powerfully contributing to the establishment of a united France. In 1373, when the Duke of Brittany sought English aid against a threatened invasion by Charles V., Du Guesclin was sent at the head of a powerful army to seize the duchy, which he did; and two years later he frustrated, by a defensive policy, the attempt of the duke with an English army to recover it. Finding, in 1379, that the king entertained suspicions of his fidelity to him, he resolved to give up his constable's sword and retire to Spain. His resolution was at first proof against remonstrance; but ultimately he received back the sword, and continued in the service of France.

In 1380 he was sent into Languedoc to suppress disturbances and brigandage provoked by the harsh government of the Duke of Anjou. His first act was to lay siege to the fortress of Châteauneuf-Randou, held by the English, strongly garrisoned and well provisioned. A day was fixed conditionally for capitulation. Meanwhile the great warrior was smitten with a mortal illness, and died, July 13, 1380. The commander led out the garrison and deposited the keys of the castle on the coffin of the hero. Du Guesclin lost his first wife in 1371, and married a second in 1373. His remains were interred, by order of the king, in the church of St Denis.