Part 33

On leaving these good ladies, the knight took his way to the French camp, where he was received with as much joy as if he were a reinforcement of ten thousand men.

Now at that time the French were masters of the Duchy of Milan, in northern Italy, and the presence of the Spanish army in that part of the country was adjudged by Louis to be a constant menace to his interests there. The king was in France, but his nephew, the Duke of Nemours, commanded the French army in Italy.

Scarcely had Bayard arrived in camp, when Nemours determined to give battle to the Spanish. All was soon astir in the French camps, in preparation; and Bayard and the duke were in high spirits.

Nemours admired the chevalier extravagantly. He was too truly great to be envious of Bayard's fame, and nothing delighted him more than to hear the knight's praises.

"My Lord Bayard," he said, shortly after the chevalier's arrival, "I am told that the Spanish fear thee more than they fear any other man on earth, and that they are constantly asking if thou art in camp. I wish thou wouldst go out and show thyself to them."

"By thy leave," answered the knight, laughing, "I will pay them a little visit to-morrow."

On the next morning, which was Good Friday, Bayard paid the "little visit" he promised. He had a way of calling on his enemies very scantily attended, and this time he took with him a mere handful of men.

The two armies were encamped within a few miles of each other before the city of Ravenna, which the Spaniards had undertaken to defend against King Louis's forces.

It is needless to say that the Spanish were not expecting Bayard's visit. They were in readiness, however, for another skirmishing party of French had descended upon them only an hour before. It seems that these earlier visitors were being badly worsted when the fearless knight appeared on the scene. In an instant the tide of victory turned. Bayard rallied the flying French and reversed the pursuit, chasing the Spaniards back to their garrison. Nor did he stop at that. Mindful of the visit he had promised to make the enemy, he dashed into the midst of their camp, knocked down tents and pavilions, laid men flat to right and to left, and made good his escape before the Spanish had time to realize what was happening to them.

When the laughing chevalier got back from his adventure, the Duke of Nemours exclaimed in admiration--

"Thou art the man, Lord Bayard, for skirmishes. No one knows so well as thou dost either how to begin or how to end them. Thou art our master in the art of war."

Two days later, on Easter Sunday, the French and Spanish met in the terrible battle of Ravenna,--one of the most cruel and bloody engagements in all history. The field remained to the French,--sixteen thousand out of an army of twenty thousand Spanish being slain or captured; but the victory was too dearly bought, for the "best blood of France" was the price paid for it.

Probably the knight Bayard forgot the gloomy predictions of the astrologer of Carpi. He did not keep near the duke that day, but went dashing about wherever his venturesome spirit led, performing almost incredible feats of arms. But, alas! he came back from his last brilliant charge to find the gallant Nemours dead on the field. The noble duke had been fairly cut to pieces by the many strokes received in his last brave stand against the enemy.

In the year 1513, Henry VIII., King of England, and Maximilian I. of Germany, invaded northern France and captured several towns. In the beginning of this campaign occurred what is known as the "Battle of Spurs;" and this engagement is of special interest on account of Bayard's part in it.

The English were investing the town of Terouana, in which there was almost a famine.

A French force under the Lord of Chabannes had been sent to the relief of the city, but it was found to be much too small to hurl against the outnumbering allies in open battle. Still was it imperative to revictual the suffering town, so Chabannes decided on a difficult stratagem.

A body of cavalry--under Bayard and others--was to feign an attack on the besieging English, and then retreat rapidly, to draw the enemy in pursuit, in order that other troops might take advantage of the confusion, and provision the invested town.

This plan was put in execution; but the English and their German allies played their unconscious part in their adversaries' program so well that they not only pursued the decoy cavalry, but fell upon other companies of French, throwing them into utter confusion.

As may be imagined, the seemingly ignoble flight of his cavalry was galling to a spirit like Bayard's. To "the knight without fear" it was almost impossible to refrain from fighting when an enemy was within striking distance; and now, as had often been the case, his warlike instinct got the better of his sense of obedience.

He was under orders not to fight, but to retreat at full speed when the enemy should give chase. The latter command he obeyed; the former might as well have been given to the storm. He would fly with his company awhile,--till his fiery spirit could no longer be curbed,--then he would wheel about and charge the pursuing English with such impetuous courage that numbers would be compelled to fall back for an instant before his matchless prowess.

At length the chevalier and his company reached a bridge which spanned a swift torrent. He could not resist the temptation of making a stand against the enemy, though he had a mere handful of men about him, so he whirled his horse about and faced the foe. It mattered little how great were the odds against him, for the spirit of battle possessed him. He gave one glance at the remnant that rallied to him, then said to a messenger quickly,--

"Go tell my Lord of Chabannes that I will hold this bridge and whip them if he will but send me reinforcements."

The reinforcements did not come; but Bayard and his little company held the bridge with sword and lance till they saw a large division of German troops fording the stream in their rear. Seeing that they were thus surrounded, and by overwhelming numbers, Bayard said to his men cheerily--

"Let us give ourselves up, comrades; further resistance were but a bootless sacrifice." Not the least noteworthy of Bayard's many fine qualities were his rare good sense and his cheerfulness under misfortune. If he won, he enjoyed his victory; if he lost, he accepted defeat like a philosopher.

His men now followed his advice, each surrendering to the nearest enemy.

Now it chanced, in the confusion, that Bayard saw an exhausted German throw himself down under a near-by tree and unbuckle his sword. In an instant the chevalier sprang to him, snatched up the sword, and presented its point to the officer's throat.

"Surrender or die!" he demanded of the astonished man-at-arms.

Not caring to give up his life, the officer surrendered himself captive to the chevalier, saying,