 Chapter 9 of St. George for England. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Todd Cranston-Kuevas. St. George for England by G. A. Henty. Chapter 9. The Siege of Hennobon. The procedures of Hennobon were greatly discouraged at the success of the Enterprise of the Countess. They had already attempted several desperate assaults, but had at each time been repulsed with very heavy loss. They now sent to Wren for 12 of the immense machines used in battering walls, which had been left behind there on a false report of the weakness of Hennobon. Pending the arrival of these, Charles Ablois, with one division of the army, marched away to attack Aurée, leaving Don Louis to carry on the siege with a force considered amply sufficient to compel its surrender after the arrival of the battering machines. In a few days these arrived and were speedily set to work, and immense masses of stone were hurled at the walls. Walter continued to act as the Countess of Special Squire. She had informed Sir William Cadoodle and Sir John Powis that it was at his suggestion that she had made the sudden attack upon the French camp, and he had gained great credit thereby. The effect of the new machines was speedily visible. The walls crumbled under the tremendous blows, and although the archers harassed by their arrows the men working them, the French speedily erected screens which sheltered them from their fire. The spirits of the defenders began to sink rapidly, as they saw that in a very short time great breaches would be made in the walls, and that all the horrors and disasters of a city taken by assault awaited them. The Bishop of Quimper, who was within the walls, entered into secret negotiations with his nephew, Henri de Leon, who had gone over to the enemy after the surrender of Malte, and was now with the besieging army. The besiegers delighted to find an ally within the walls who might save them from the heavy losses which an assault would entail upon them, at once embraced his offers and promised him a large recompense if he would bring over the other commanders and nobles. The wily bishop set to work, and the consequences were soon visible. Open grumbling broke forth at the hardships which were endured, and at the prospect of the wholesale slaughter which would attend a storm when all hope of a successful resistance was at an end. I fear, Walter, Sir John said one morning, that the end is at hand. In all sides submission is spoken of, and all that I can say to keep up their spirits is useless. Upon our own little band we can rely, but I doubt if outside them a single determined man is to be found in the town. In vain do I speak of the arrival of Sir Walter Manny. Nearly 90 days have elapsed since we sailed, and all hope of his coming is gone. I point out to them that contrary winds have been blowing, and that at any moment he may arrive, but they will not hear me. The bishop has gained over the whole of them by his promises that none shall be molested in property or a state should they surrender. It is sad to see the Countess, Walter replied. She who has shown such high spirit throughout the siege now does nothing but weep, for she knows that with her and her child in the hands of the French the cause of the Countess lost. If she could carry off the child by sea she would not so much care for the fall of the town, but the French ships lie thick round the port, and there's no hope of breaking through. Two days later the conspiracy came to a head, and the people, assembling round the Countess's house, clamored for surrender. The breaches were open, and the enemy might pour in at any time and put all to the sword. The Countess begged for a little further delay, but in vain, and withdrew to the turret where she had for so many weary weeks watched the horizon in hopes of seeing the sails of the approaching fleet. Walter was at the time with Sir John Powess on the walls. Presently a large body of French were seen approaching headed by Henri de Lyon, who summoned the town to surrender. Many standing on the walls shouted that the gates should be thrown open, but Sir John returned for answer that he must consult the Countess, and that upon her answer must depend whether he and his men would defend the breach until the last. Come with me, Walter, he said. We must feign persuade the Countess. If she says no, we Englishmen will die in the breach, but though ready to give my life or so brave a lady, I own that it is useless to fight longer. Save our own little band, not one in the town will lift the sword again. Such resistance as we can offer will but inflame them to fury, and all the horrors of a sack will be inflicted upon the inhabitants. There she is, poor lady on the turret, gazing as usual, seaward. Suddenly they saw her throw up her arms and then turning towards the city she cried as she perceived the English knight. I see them. I see them. The English fleet are coming. Run up, Walter, Sir John exclaimed. Maybe the Countess is distraught with her sorrows. Walter dashed up to the turret, and looking seaward beheld rising over the horizon a number of masts. Hurrah, Sir John, he shouted. We are saved. The English fleet is in sight. Many others heard the shout, and the tidings ran like lightning through the town. In wild excitement the people ran to the battlements and roofs, and with cheering and clapping of hands hailed the appearance of the still-far-distant fleet. The church bells rang out joyfully, and the whole town was wild with excitement. The Bishop of Quimper, finding his plans were frustrated, gathered around him some of those who had taken a leading part in the intrigue. These, leaving the city by a gate at which they had placed some of their own faction to open it to the French, issued out and made their way to the assailants' camp to give news of the altered situation. Don Louie at once ordered an attack to be made with his whole force, in hopes of capturing the place before the arrival of the English succor. But, animated by their new hopes, those so lately despondent and ready to yield, manned the breeches and repulsed with great slaughter, all attempts on the part of the French to carry them. While the struggle was still going on, the Countess, aided by the wives of the Burgers, busied herself in preparing a sumptuous feast in honor of her deliverers, who were fast approaching, their ships impelled by a strong and favorable breeze. The vessels of the French hastily drew off, and the English fleet sailed into the port, hailed by the cheers of the inhabitants. The Countess herself received Sir Walter Manny on his landing, and the townspeople vied with each other in offering hospitality to the men at arms and archers. Ah, Sir John Powis, Sir Walter exclaimed. What, are you here? I had given you up for last. We thought you had gone down in the gale the night you started. We were separated from the fleet, Sir Walter, but the master held on, and we arrived here four days after we put out. We took part in the siege of Rennes, and have since done our best to aid the Countess here. And their best has been much, the Countess said. Not to say how bravely they have fought upon the walls, it is to Sir John in his little band that I owe it that the town was not surrendered days ago. They alone remained steadfast when all others fell away, and it is due to them that I am still able, as mistress of this town, to greet you on your arrival. Next to Sir John himself, my thanks are due to your young Esquire, Walter Summers, who had cheered and stood by me, and to whose suggestions I owe it that I was able at the first to sally out and destroy the French camp while they were attacking the walls, and so greatly hindered their measures against the town. And now, Sir, will you follow me? I have prepared for you and your knights such a banquet of welcome as our poor means will allow, and my townspeople will see that good fare is set before your soldiers. That evening there was high feasting in the town, although the crash of the heavy stones cast by the French machines against the walls never ceased. Early the next morning Sir Walter Manny made a survey of the place and of the disposition of the enemy, and proposed to his knights to sally forth at once and destroy the largest of the enemy's machines, which had been brought up close to the walls. In a few minutes the knights were armed and mounted. Three hundred knights and Esquires were to take part in the sortie. They were to be followed by a strong body of men at arms. As soon as the gates were opened, a number of archers issued out, and taking their place at the edge of the moat, poured a rain of arrows upon the men working the machine and those guarding it. Most of these took to flight at once. The remainder were cut down by the men at arms, who had once proceeded to hew the machine in pieces with the axes with which they were provided. Sir Walter himself and his mounted companions dashed forward to the nearer tents of the French camps, cut down all who opposed them, and setting fire to the huts retired towards the city. By this time the French were thoroughly alarmed, and numbers of knights and men at arms dashed after the little body of English cavalry. These could have regained the place and safety, but in the chivalrous spirit of the time they disdained to retire without striking a blow. Turning their horses therefore, and laying their lances in rest, they charged the pursuing French. In a few minutes the conflict was desperate, and many on both sides were overthrown. Then, as large reinforcements were continually arriving to the French, Sir Walter called off his men and retired slowly. On reaching the moat he halted his forces. The knights wheeled and presented a firm face to the enemy, covering the entrance of their followers into the gate. The French chivalry thundered down upon the little body, but they were met by a storm of arrows from the archers lining the moat. Many knights were struck through the bars of their visors or the joints of their mail. The horses though, defended by iron trappings, fell dead upon them, or maddened by pain dashed wildly through the ranks carrying confusion with them, and the French commanders, seeing how heavy were their losses, called off their men from the assault. Sir Walter Manny, with his party remained without the gate until the enemy had re-entered their camp, and then rode into the town amid the acclamations of the inhabitants, the Countess herself meeting her deliverers at the gate and kissing each, one after the other, in token of her gratitude and admiration. The arrival of the reinforcements and the proof of skill and vigor given by the English leader, together with the terror caused by the terrible effect of the English arrows, shook the resolution of Don Louis and his troops. Deprived of half their force by the absence of Charles of Blois, it was thought prudent by the leaders to withdraw at once, and the third morning after the arrival of Sir Walter Manny, the siege was raised, and the French marched to join Charles of Blois before the castle of Orré. Even with the reinforcements brought by Sir Walter Manny, the forces of the Countess of Montford were still so greatly inferior to those of the divisions of the French army that they could not hope to cope with them in the field until the arrival of the main English army, which the king of England himself was to bring over shortly. Accordingly, the French laid siege too and captured many small towns and castles. Charles of Blois continued the siege of Orré and directed Don Louis with his division to attack the town of Dinam. On his way, the Spaniard captured the small fortress of Conquête and put the garrison to the sword. Sir Walter Manny, in spite of the inferiority of his force, sadly doubted to relieve it, but it was taken before his arrival, and Don Louis had marched away to Dinam, leaving a small garrison in Conquête. It was again captured by Sir Walter, but finding it indefensible, he returned with the whole of his force to Hannibal. Don Louis captured Dinam and then besieged Grande. Here he met with a vigorous resistance but carried it by storm and gave it up to be pillaged by his soldiers. He now sent back to Charles of Blois, the greater part of the French troops who accompanied him, and embarked with the Genouise and Spanish 8000 in number and sailed to Quimperl, a rich and populous town in lower Brittany. Anchoring in the river Lietta, he disembarked his troops and leaving a guard to protect the vessels marched to the interior plundering and burning and from time to time dispatching his booty to swell the immense mass, which he had brought into his ships from the sac of Grande. Quimperl lies but a short distance from Hannibal and Sir Walter Manny with Emmerich de Collison, a number of English knights and a body of English archers and all 3000 men embarked in the ships in the port and entered the Lietta, captured the enemy's fleet and all his treasure. The English then landed and divided into three bodies set out in search of the enemy. The English columns marched at a short distance apart so as to be able to give each other assistance in case of attack. The news of the English approach soon reached the Spaniards, who were gathered in a solid body for the enraged country people armed with clubs and bills, hung on their flanks and cut off any stragglers who left the main body. Don Luia once moved towards the sea coast and coming in sight of one of the English divisions charged it with his whole force. The English fought desperately but the odds of seven to one were too great and they would have been overpowered had not the other two divisions arrived on the spot and fallen upon the enemy's flanks. After a severe and prolonged struggle the Genoese and Spaniards were completely routed. The armed peasantry slew every fugitive they could overtake and of the 7,000 men with whom Don Luia commenced the battle only 300 accompanied him in his flight to Rennes. The troops of Sir Walter and de Collison pursuing him to the very gates of that city. Sir Walter marched back with his force to the ships but finding the wind unfavorable returned Hennobon by land, capturing by the way the castle of Goet de Fauré. Their return was joyfully welcomed not only for the victory which they had achieved but because the enemy was again drawing near to the town Aure had fallen. The brave garrison after existing for some time upon the flesh of their horses had endeavored to cut their way through the besiegers. Most of them were killed in the attempt but a few escaped and made their way to Hennobon. Vannay, an important town and Cargay quickly surrendered and the French force was daily receiving considerable reinforcements. This arose from the fact that large numbers of French nobles and knights had, with their followers, taken part with Alfonso, king of Castile and Lyon in his war with the Moors. This had just terminated with the expulsion of the latter from Spain and the French knights and nobles on their way home for the most part joined at once in the war which their countrymen were waging in Bretagne. Seeing the great force which was gathering for a fresh siege of Hennobon, Sir Walter Manny and the Countess of Montford sent an urgent message to King Edward for further support. The king was not yet ready but at the beginning of August he dispatched a force under the command of the Earl of Northampton and Robert of Otois. It consisted of twenty-seven knights, bannerettes, and two thousand men-at-arms. Before, however, it could reach Hennobon, the second siege of that city had begun. Charles Oblois had approached it with a far larger army than that with which it had on the first occasion sat down before it. Hennobon was, however, much better prepared than at first for resistance. The walls had been repaired, provisions and military stores laid up, and machines constructed. The garrison was very much larger and was commanded by one of the most gallant knights of the age, and the citizens beheld undaunted the approach of the great French army. Four days after the French had arrived before Hennobon they were joined by Don Louis who had been severely wounded in the fight near Quimperl and had lain for six weeks at Rennes. Sixteen great engines at once began to cast stones against the walls but Sir Walter caused sandbags to be lowered and so protected the walls from the attack that little damage was done. The garrison, confident in their powers to resist, taunted the assailants from the walls and specially enraged the Spaniards and Don Louis by allusions to the defeat at Quimperl. So furious did the Spanish Prince become that he took a step unprecedented in those days of chivalry. He, one morning, entered the tent of Charles Oblois where a number of French nobles were gathered and demanded a boon in requital of all his services. Charles at once assented went to his surprise and horror Prince Louis demanded that two English knights, Sir John Butler and Sir Hubert Frisnoy, who had been captured in the course of the campaign and were kept prisoners at Foix, should be delivered to him to be executed. These English, he said, have pursued, disconfident and wounded me and have killed the nephew whom I love so well and as I have none other mode of vengeance I will cut off their heads before their companions who lie within those walls. Charles Oblois and his nobles were struck with amazement and horror at the demand and used every means in their power to turn the savage prince from his purpose but in vain. They pointed out to him that his name would be dishonored in all countries where the laws of chivalry prevailed by such a deed and besought him to choose some other boon. Don Louis refused to yield and Charles Oblois finding no alternative between breaking his promise and delivering his prisoners at last agreed to his request. The prisoners were sent for and were informed by Don Louis himself of their approaching and at first they could not believe that he was in earnest for such a proceeding was so utterly opposed to the spirit of the times that it seemed impossible to them. Finding that he was in earnest they warned him of the eternal stain which such a deed would bring upon his name. The Spaniard however was unmoved either by their words or by their entreaties of the French nobles but told them that he would give them a few hours to prepare for death and that they should be executed in sight of the walls after the usual dinner hour of the army. In those days sieges were not conducted in the strict manner in which they are at present and non-combatants passed without difficulty to and fro between town and camp. The news therefore of what was intended speedily reached the garrison whom it filled with indignation and horror. A council was immediately called and Sir Walton Manney proposed a plan which was instantly adopted. Without loss of time Amorak Diklison issued forth from the great gate of Heneban accompanied by three hundred men-at-arms and one thousand archers. The latter took post at once along the edge of the ditches. The men-at-arms rode straight for the enemy's camp which was undefended and the whole army being within their tents at dinner. Dashing into their midst the English and Breton men-at-arms began to overthrow the tents and spear all that were in them. Not knowing the extent of the danger or the smallness of the attacking force the French knights sprang up from their table mounted and rode to encounter the assailants. For some time these maintained their ground against all assaults until finding that the whole army was upon them Amorak Diklison gave order for his troops to retire slowly upon the town. Fighting every step of the ground and resisting obstinately the repeated onslaught of the French Kleson approached the gate. Here he was joined by the archers who with Ben Beaux prepared to resist the advance of the French. As it appeared that the garrison was prepared to give battle outside the walls the whole French army prepared to move against them. In the meantime Sir Walter Manny with 100 men-at-arms and 500 horse-argers issued by a sally port on the other side of the town and with all speed rode round to the rear of the French camp. There he found none to oppose him save servants and camp followers and making his way straight to the tent of Charles Ablois where the two knights were confined he soon freed them from their bonds. They were mounted without wasting a moment's time upon two spare horses and turning again the whole party rode back towards Heneban and had reached the post turned gate before the fugitives from the camp reached the French commanders and told them what had happened. Seeing that he was now too late because of the Kleson sortie Charles Ablois recalled his army from the attack in which he could only have suffered heavily from the arrows of the archers and the missiles from the walls. The same day he learned from some prisoners captured in the sortie of the undiminished spirit of the garrison and that Heneban was amply supplied with provisions brought by sea. His own army was becoming straightened by the scarcity of supplies in the country round he therefore determined at once to raise the siege and to besiege some place where he would encounter less serious resistance. Accordingly next morning he drew off his army and marched to Carre. Shortly afterwards the news came that Earl of Northampton and Robert of Ottawa with their force had sailed and Don Louis with the Genoese and other Italian mercenaries started to intercept them with a large fleet. The fleets met off the island of Guernsey and a severe engagement took place which lasted till night. During the darkness a tremendous storm burst upon them and the combatants separated. The English succeeded in making their way to Brittany and landed near Vannay. The Spaniards captured four small ships which had been separated in the storm from their consorts but did not succeed in regaining the coast of Brittany being driven south by the storm as far as Spain. The Earl of Northampton had once laid siege to Vannay and Sir Walter Manny moved with every man that could be spared from Henebom to assist him. As it was certain that the French army would press forward with all speed to relieve the town it was decided to lose no time in battering the walls but to attempt to carry it at once by assault. The walls however were so strong that there seemed little prospect of success attending such an attempt and a plan was therefore determined upon by which the enemy might be thrown off their guard. The assault commenced at three points in the early morning and was continued all day. No great vigor however was shown in these attempts which were repulsed at all points. At nightfall the assailants drew off to their camp and Oliver de Clisson who commanded the town suffered his weary troops to quit the walls and to seek for refreshment and repose. The assailants however did not disarm but after a sufficient time had elapsed to allow the garrison to lay aside their armor two strong parties attacked the principal gates of the town while Sir Walter Manny and the Earl of Oxford moved round to the opposite side with ladders for an escalade. The plan was successful the garrison snatching up their arms hurried to repel their attack upon the gates every man hastening in that direction. Sir Walter Manny with his party were therefore enabled to mount the walls unobserved and make their way into the town. Here they fell upon the defenders in the rear and the sudden onslaught spread confusion and terror among them. The parties at the gates forced their way in and joined their friends and the whole of the garrison were killed or taken prisoners save a few including Oliver de Clisson who made their escape by Sally ports. Robert of D'Otois with the Earl of Stafford was left with a garrison to hold the town. The Earl of Salisbury with four thousand men proceeded to lay siege to Rhyn and Sir Walter Manny hastened back to Hennobon. Some of Sir Walter's men formed part of the garrison of Vannay and among these were Sir John Powis with a hundred men at arms. The night had been so pleased with Walter's coolness and courage at the siege of Hennobon that he requested Sir Walter to leave him with him at Vannay. It is possible, he said to Walter, that we may have fighting here Me thinks that Sir Walter would have done better to leave a stronger force. The town is a large one and the inhabitants ill-disposed towards us. Oliver Clisson and the French nobles will feel their honor wounded at the way in which we outwitted them and will likely enough make an effort to regain the town. However, Henn and Hennobon are not far away and we may look for speedy aid from the Earl of Salisbury and Sir Walter should occasion arise. Sir John's provisions were speedily verified. Oliver Clisson and his friends were determined to wipe out their defeat and scattered through the country raising volunteers from among the soldiery in all of the neighboring towns and castles and a month after Vannay was taken they suddenly appeared before the town with an army of twelve thousand men commanded by Beau-Mouinois, Marshal of Whittain, for Charles of Blois. The same reasons which had induced the Earl of Northampton to decide upon a speedy assault instead of the slow process of breaching the walls actuated the French in pursuing the same course and divided into a number of storming parties the army advanced at once to the assault on the walls. The little garrison prepared for the defense. The outlook is bad Walter, Sir John Powis said. These men approach with an error of resolution which shows that they are bent upon success. They outnumber us by twelve to one and it is likely enough that citizens may rise and attack us in the rear. They have been ordered to bring the stones for the machines to the walls but no one has laid his hand to the work. We must do our duty as brave men my lad but I doubt me if yonder is not the last sun which we shall see. Furious as the French are at our recent success here you may be sure that little quarter will given. by Todd Cranston-Cuevas St. George for England by G. A. Henty Chapter 10 A Place of Refuge The French excited to the utmost by the exhortations of their commanders and by their desire to wipe out the disgrace of the easy capture of Vaughn by the English advanced with ardor to the assault and officers and men vied with each other in the valor which they displayed. In Vaughn did the garrison shower arrows and crossbow bolts among them and pour down burning oil and quick lime upon them as they thronged at the foot of the wall. In Vaughn were the ladders time after time hurled back loaded with men upon the mass below. The efforts of the men at arms to scale the defenses were seconded by their archers and crossbowmen who shot such a storm of bolts that great numbers of the defenders were killed. The assault was made at a score of different points and the garrison was too weak to defend all with success. Sir John Powis and his party repulsed over and over again the efforts of the assailants against that part of the wall entrusted to them. But at other points the French gained a footing and swarming up rushed along the walls slaying all whom they encountered. All is lost, Sir John exclaimed. Let us fall back to the castle and die fighting there. Descending from the wall the party made their way through the streets. The French were already in the town. Every house was closed and barred and from the upper windows the burgers hurled down stones and bricks upon the fugitives while parties of the French soldiers fell upon them fiercely. Many threw down their arms and cried for quarter but were instantly slain. For a while the streets were a scene of wild confusion. Here and there little knots of Englishmen stood together and defended themselves until the last. Others ran through the streets chased by their exulting foes. Some tried in vain to gain shelter in the houses. Sir John Powis's band was soon broken and scattered and their leaders slain by a heavy stone from a house top. Walter fought his way blindly forward towards the castle although he well knew that no refuge would be found there. Ralph Smith kept close beside him leveling many of his assailants with the tremendous blows of a huge mace. Somehow Walter hardly knew how. They made their way through their assailants and dashed in at the castle gate. A crowd of their assailants were close upon their heels. Walter glanced round, dashing across the courtyard. He ran through some passages into an inner yard in which as he knew was the well. The bucket hung at the windlass. Catch hold, Ralph, he exclaimed. There's just a chance we may as well be drowned as killed. They grasped the rope and jumped off. The bucket began to descend with frightful velocity. Faster and faster it went and yet it seemed a long time before they plunged into the water which was nigh a hundred feet below the surface. Fortunately the rope was considerably longer than was necessary and they sank many feet into the water, still retaining their hold. Then, clinging to the rope, they hauled themselves to the surface. We cannot hold on here five minutes, Ralph exclaimed. My armor is dragging me down. We will soon get rid of that, Walter said. There go our helmets. Now I will hold on with one hand and help you to unbuckle your breast and back pieces. You do the same for me. With great efforts they managed to rid themselves of their armor and then held on with ease to the rope. They hauled the bucket to the surface and tied a knot in the slack of the rope so that the bucket hung four feet below the level of the water. Putting their feet in this, they were able to stand with their heads above the surface without difficulty. This is a nice fix, Ralph exclaimed. I think it would have been just as well to have been killed at once. They are sure to find us here and if they don't, we shall die of cold before tomorrow morning. I don't think they will find us, Walter said cheerfully. When they have searched the castle thoroughly, it may occur to some of them that we have jumped down the well but it will be no particular business of anyone to look for us and they will all be too anxious to get at the wine butts to trouble their heads about the matter. Besides, it must be a heavy job to wind up this bucket and it is not likely there will be such urgent need of water that anyone will undertake the task. But we are no better off if they don't, Ralph remarked. For we must die here if we are not hauled out. I suppose you don't intend to try and climb that rope. I might do twenty feet or so on a pinch but I could no more get up to the top there than I could fly. Well we must think it over, Walter rejoined. Where there is a will there is a way, you know. We will take it by turns to watch that little patch of light overhead. If we see anyone looking downward, we must leave the bucket and swim to the side without making the least noise. They may give a few turns of the windlass to see if anyone has hauled the rope below. Be sure you do not make the slightest splashing or noise for the sound would be heard above to a certainty. Ten minutes later they saw two heads appear above and instantly withdrew their feet from the bucket and made a stroke to the side, which was but four feet distant, being careful as they did that no motion was imparted to the rope. Then though it was too dark to see anything, they heard the bucket lifted from the water. A minute later it fell back again with a splash, then all was quiet. We are safe now and we can take our place in the bucket. They are satisfied that if we did jump down here we are drowned and now we must think about climbing up. Aye, that will require a good deal of thinking, Ralph grumbled. For some time there was silence. Then Walter said, The first thing to do is to cut off the slack of the rope. There are some twelve feet of it. Then we will unwind the strands of that. There are five or six large strands, as far as I can feel. We will cut them up into lengths of about a couple of feet and we ought to be able to tie these to the rope in such a way as not to slip down with our weight. If we tie them four feet apart, we can go up step by step. I don't see much difficulty about that. No, Ralph said much more cheerfully. I think that we could manage that. They are once set to work. The rope was cut up and unraveled and the strands cut into pieces about two feet long. Then they both set to work trying to discover some ways of fastening it, by which it would not slip down the rope. They made many fruitless attempts. Each time that a strand was fastened with a loop large enough for them to pass a leg through, it slipped down the rope when their weight was applied to it. At last they succeeded in finding out a knot which would hold. This was done by tying a knot close to one end of a piece of the strand. Then sufficient was left to form the loop and the remainder was wound round the rope in such a way that the weight only served to tighten its hold. Shall we begin at once? Ralph said when success was achieved. No, we had better wait until nightfall. The vibration of the rope when our weight once gets on it might be noticed by anyone crossing the courtyard. Do you think we have sufficient bits of rope? Ralph asked. Just enough I think, Walter replied. There were six strands and each has made six pieces. So we have thirty-six. I know the well is about a hundred feet deep. For the other day I heard some soldiers who were drawing water grumbling over the labor required. So if we put them three feet apart, it will take thirty-three of them, which will leave three over. But we had better place them a little over a yard, so as to be sure. In a short time the fading brightness of the circle of light far overhead told them that twilight had commenced, and shortly afterwards they attached the first strand to the rope some three feet above the water. Now, Walter said, I will go first. At any rate for a time I must put one leg through the loop and sit as it were while I fastened and one above. As I shall want both hands for the work, you will find it a good deal easier to stand with your foot in the loop. If I get tired, I will fasten another loop by the side of that on which I am resting, so you can come up and pass me. There is no hurry. It ought not to take up above an hour, and it will not do for us to get to the top until the place becomes a little quiet. Tonight they are sure to be drinking and feasting over their victory until late. They now set to work, and step by step mounted the rope. They found the work less arduous than they had expected. The rope was dry and the strands held tightly to it. Two or three times they changed places resting in turn from their work, but in less than two hours from the time they made the first loop, Walter's head and shoulders appeared above the level of the courtyard. He could hear sounds of shouting and singing within the castle and knew that a great feast was going on. Descending a step or two, he held Parley with Ralph. I think perhaps it would be better to sally out at once. Everyone is intent on his own pleasure, and we shall have no difficulty in slipping out of the castle unnoticed. All will be feasting and riot in the town, and so long as we do not rush against anyone so that they may feel our wetter garments, we are little likely to be noticed. Besides, the gates of the town will stand open late, for people from the village's round will have come in to join in the revels. I am ready to try at Master Walter, Ralph replied, for I ache from head to foot withholding on to this rope. The sooner the better, say I. In another minute, both stood in the courtyard. It was a retired spot, and none were passing. Going along the passage, they issued into the main yard. Here, great fires were blazing, and groups of men sat round them drinking and shouting. Many lay about in a drunken sleep. Stay where you are in the shade, Ralph. You had best lie down by the foot of the wall. Anyone who passes will think that you are in a drunken sleep. I will creep forward and possess myself of the steel caps of two of these drunkards, and if I can get a couple of cloaks, so much the better. There was no difficulty about the caps, and by dint of unbuckling the cloaks and rolling their wearers gently over, Walter succeeded at last in obtaining two of them. He also picked up a sword for Ralph, his own still hung in its sheath, and then he joined his companion, and the two putting on the steel caps and cloaks walked quietly to the gate. There were none on guard, and they issued unmolested into the town. Here all was revelry. Bonfires blazed in the streets, hugs heads of wine, with the heads knocked out, stood before many of the houses for all to help themselves who wished. Drunken soldiers reeled along, shouting snatches of songs, and the burgers and the highest state of hilarity thronged the ways. First of all, Ralph, we will have a drink of wine, for I am chilled to the bone. I, and so am I, Ralph replied. I got hot enough climbing that rope, but now the coldest godhold of me again in my teeth are chattering in my head. Picking up one of the fallen vessels by a cask, they dipped it in and took a long droth of wine. Then, turning off from the principal streets, they made their way by quiet lanes down to one of the gates. To their dismay, they found that this was closed. The French commanders knew that Sir Walter Manny, or Salisbury, might urge this be pressing forward to relieve the town, and that, finding that it had fallen, they might attempt to recapture it by a sudden attack. While permitting, therefore, the usual license, after a successful assault, to the main body of their forces, they had placed a certain number of their best troops on the walls, giving them a handsome largesse to make up for their loss of the festivities. At first, Walter and his friend feared that their retreat was cut off for the night, but several other people presently arrived, and the officer and guard said, coming out, You must wait a while. The last batch have only just gone, and I cannot keep opening and closing the gate. In half an hour, I will let you out. Before that time elapsed, some fifty or sixty people, anxious to return to their villages, gathered round the gate. Best lay aside your steel cap, Ralph, before we join them, Walter said. In the dim light of that lamp, none will notice that we have headgear, but if it were to glint upon the steel cap, the officer might take us for desertors, and question us as to who we are. Presently, the officer came out from the guard room again. There was a forward movement of the little crowd, and Walter and Ralph closed in to their midst. The gates were opened, and without any question the villagers passed out, and the gates were shut instantly behind them. Walter and his comrade had once started at a brisk pace, and walked all night in the direction of Hannibal. Their clothes soon dried, and elated at their escape from danger. They struggled on briskly. When morning broke, they entered a wood, and lay there till evening, as they feared to continue their journey lest they might fall into the hands of some roving band of French horse. They were, too, dog-tired, and were asleep a few minutes after they lay down. The sun was setting when they awoke, and as soon as it was dark they resumed their journey. I don't know what you feel, Master Walter, but I am well nigh famished. It is thirty-six hours since I swallowed a bit of food, just as the French were moving to the attack. Hard blows I don't mind, I have been used to it. But what with fighting and being in the water for five or six hours, and climbing up that endless rope, and walking all night on an empty stomach, it does not suit me at all. I feel ravenous too, Ralph, but there is no help for it. We shall eat nothing till we are within the walls of Hannibal, and that will be by daylight tomorrow, if all goes well. Draw your belt an inch or two tighter, it will help to keep out the roof. They kept on all night, and in the morning saw to their delight the towers of Hannibal in the distance. It was well that it was no further, for both were so exhausted from want of food that they could with difficulty drag their legs along. Upon entering the town Walter made his way at once to the quarters of the leader. Sir Walter had just risen, and was delighted at the sight of his Esquire. I had given you up for dead, he exclaimed. By what miracle could you have escaped? Are you alone? I have with me only my faithful follower, Ralph Smith, who is below. But Sir Walter, for mercy's sake order, that some food be placed before us, or we shall have escaped from the French only to die of hunger here. We have tasted not since the attack on Vons began. Have any beside us escaped? Lord Stafford contrived with two or three others to cut their way out by a poster-gate, bringing with them Robert of Artois, who is grievously wounded, none others save you and your man at arms, have made their way here. In a few minutes a cold capon, several manchettes of bread, and a stoop of wine were placed before Walter, while Ralph's wants were attended to below. When he had satisfied his hunger, the young Esquire related his adventures to Sir Walter, and several other knights and nobles, who had by this time gathered in the room. In faith, Master Somos, we have got well out of your scrape, Sir Walter exclaimed. Had I been in your place, I should assuredly have perished, for I would a thousand times rather meet death's sword in hand than drop down into the deep hole of that well, and your brain served you shrewdly in devising a method of escape. What say you gentlemen? All present joined in expressions of praise at the lad's coolness and presence of mind. You are doing well, young Sir, the English leader went on, and have distinguished yourself on each occasion on which we have been engaged. I shall be proud when the time comes to bestow upon you myself the order of knighthood, if our king does not take the matter off my hands. A little later, Robert of Antoine died of his wounds, and disappointment of the failure of his hopes. In October, King Edward himself set sail with a great army, and landing in Brittany early in November, marched forward through the country, and soon reduced Plomel, Maastral, Redon, and the rest of the province in the vicinity of Vons, and then laid siege to that town, as his force was far more than sufficient for the siege, the Earl of Norfolk and Warwick were dispatched in the direction of Nantes to a reconnoiter, the country, and clear it of any small bodies of the enemy they might encounter. In the meantime, Edward opened negotiations with many of the Breton lords, who, seeing that such powerful aid had arrived for the cause of the Countess of Monford, were easily persuaded to change sides. Among them were the lords of Clisand, Monwèque, Montchacoul, Retz, and many others of less importance. The Countess of Valentinois, who commanded the garrison of Vons, supported the siege with great courage and fortitude, knowing that Charles of Rebloix and the King of France were collecting a great army for his relief. United their forces, they advanced towards the town, before the force of the French, 40,000 strong, the Earl of Norfolk, had fallen back and rejoined the king, but even after this junction, the French forces exceeded those of Edward Fourfold. They advanced towards Vons, and formed a large entrenched camp near that of the English, who thus, while still besieging Vons, were themselves enclosed by a vastly superior force. The King of France himself arrived at the French camp, the French, although so greatly superior, made no motion toward attacking the English, but appeared bent upon either starving them out or forcing them to attack the strongly entrenched position occupied by the French. Provisions were indeed running short in the English camp, and the arrivals of supplies from England was cut off by a strong fleet under Don Lui, which cruised off the coast and captured all vessels arriving with stores, at this moment two ligates, the Cardinal Bishop of Preninst and the Cardinal Bishop of Tuscaloom, arrived from the Pope and strove to mediate between the two sovereigns and to bring about a cessation of hostilities, pointing out to them the scandal and desolation which their rivalry caused in Christendom, the waste of noble lives, the devastation of once happy provinces, and the effusion of innocent blood. Going from camp to camp, they exhorted, prayed, and reproached the rival sovereigns, urging that while Christians were shedding each other's blood in vain, the infidels were daily waxing bolder and more insolent. Their arguments would have been of little use had either of the monarchs felt sure of victory. King Edward, however, felt that his position was growing desperate, for starvation was staring him in the face, and only by a victory over an immensely superior force in a strongly entrenched position could he extricate himself. Upon the part of the French, however, circumstances were occurring which rendered them anxious for a release from their position, for they were not without their share of suffering. While the English army lay on a hill, the French camp was pitched on low ground, and unusually wet season had set in with bitterly cold wind, the rain was incessant, a pestilence had destroyed a vast number of their horses, and their encampment was flooded. Their forces were therefore obligated to spread themselves over the neighboring fields, and a sudden attack by the English might have been fatal. Thus distress pressed upon both commanders, and the Pope's legates found their exertions at last crowned with success. A suspension of hostilities was agreed to, and the dukes of Burgundy and Bourbon, on the one side, and the earls of Lancaster and Northampton and Salisbury on the other, met as commissioners and agreed to a convention by which a general truce was to be made from the date of the treaty to the following Mechelmas, and to be prolonged from that day for the full term of three years. It was agreed that the truce should embrace not only the sovereigns, but all the adherents of each of them. The truce was to hold good in Brittany between all parties, and the city of Lawn was to be given into the hands of the Cardinals to dispose of as they chose. It was specially provided that in the case of any of the adherents of either party in the duchies of Goscony and Brittany, waging war against each other, neither of the monarchs should either directly or indirectly meddle therewith, nor should the truce be at all broken thereby. Immediately the treaty was signed. On the 19th of January, 1343, the King of France dismissed his army and Edward sailed for England with the greater part of his truce. The Countess of Monford and her son accompanied him, and the possessions of her husband in Brittany were left to the guardianship of her partisans, with a small but choice body of English troops. The town which had fallen into their hands and still remained were Brest, Quimper Corritain, Quimperl, Redon, and Corrand. Vaughn was handed over to them by the Cardinals, and Edamond of course remained in their possession. Walter returned to England with Sir Walter Manny, and on reaching London was received with delight by his old friends Geoffrey Ward and Gilles Fletcher, who were never tired of listening to his tales of the wars. Dom Vernon also received him with great kindness and congratulated him warmly upon the very favorable account which Sir Walter Manny had given of his zeal and gallantry. The time now for a while passed very quietly. Walter and the other young squires practiced diligently under the instructions of Sir Walter at nightly exercises. Walter learned to bear himself well on horseback and to tilt in the ring. He was already a skillful swordsman, but he spared no pains to improve himself with his weapons. The court was a gay one and Walter, as a favored Asquire of one of the foremost knights there, was admitted to all that took place. His courtly education of course included dancing, and when he went down, as he often did, for a long chat with his old friends, Geoffrey often said, laughing, that he was growing such a fine gentleman that he hardly liked to sit in his presence, but although changed in manner, Walter continued to be, as before, a frank manly young fellow, and free from the affectations which were so general among the young men of the court. Recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Richard Kilmer. St. George for England, by G. A. Hentley. Chapter 11. A Stormy Interview Soon after Walter's return from France, Dame Vernon returned to her country as state, and a year passed before he again saw her. During this time, the truce which had been established between England and France had remained unbroken. It was certain, however, that ere long the two powers would again come to blows. The King of England had honourably observed the terms of the treaty. Upon his return home, he had entirely disbanded his army, and had devoted his whole attention to increasing the trade and prosperity of the country. The measures which he took to do this were not always popular with the people of England. For seeing how greatly they excelled the English manufacturers, Edward encouraged large numbers of Flemings and other foreign workers to settle in London, and gave them many privileges to induce them to do so. This the populace strongly resented. There was a strong ill feeling against the Flemings. And serious popular riots took place. For the English traders and workmen considered that these foreigners were taking the bread from their mouths. The King, however, was wiser than his people. He saw that although the English weavers were able to produce coarse cloths, yet that all of the finest sort had to be imported from the continent. He deemed that in time the Flemings would teach their arts to his subjects. And that England would come to vie with the low countries in the quality of her produce. Such was indeed afterwards the case. And England gained greatly by the importation of the industrious Flemings, just as she afterwards profited from the expulsion from France of tens of thousands of Protestant workmen, who brought here many of the manufacturers of which France had before the monopoly. The relations between England and the Flemings were at this time very close, for the latter regarded England as her protector against the ambitions of the King of France. But while King Edward had laid aside all thought of war, such was not the case with Philip of Verois. He had retired after the signature of the treaty, full of rage and humiliation. For hitherto, in all their struggles, his English rival had had the better of him. And against vastly superior forces, had foiled all his efforts, and had gained alike glory and military advantage. King Edward had hardly set sail when Philip began to break the terms of the truce, by inciting the adherence of Charles of Blois to attack those of De Montfort, and by rendering assistance to them with money and men. He also left no means untried to detach Flanders from its alliance with England. Several castles and towns in Brittany were wrestled from the partisans of De Montfort. And King Edward, after many remonstrances at the breaches of the conditions of the truce, began again to make preparations for taking the field. Several brilliant tournaments were held, and every means were taken to stir up the warlike spirit of the people. One day Walter had attended his lord to the palace and was waiting in the enter room with many other squires and gentlemen, while Sir Walter, with some other noblemen, was closeted with the king, discussing the means to be adopted for raising funds for a renewal of the war with France when a knight entered whom Walter had not previously seen at court. Who is that? he asked one of his acquaintances. Me thinks I know his face, though it passes my memory to say where I have seen it. He has been away from England for some two years, his friend answered. That is Sir James Carnegie. He is a cousin of the late Sir Jasper Vernon. He left somewhat suddenly a short time after Dame Vernon had that narrow escape from drowning that you want of. He betook himself then to Spain, where he has been fighting the Moors. He is said to be a valiant knight, but otherwise he bears but an indifferent good reputation. Walter remembered the face now. It was that of the night he had seen enter the hut of the river pirate on the Lambeth marches. When released from duty, he had once made his way to the lodging of Dame Vernon. Walter was now nineteen. For a year had elapsed since the termination of the French war, and he was in stature and strength the match of most men, while his skill at nightly exercises, as well as with the sword, was recognized as preeminent among all the young esquires of the court. After the first greeting he said to Dame Vernon, I think it right to tell you, lady, that I have but now, in the king's ante room, seen the man who plotted against your life in the hut at Lambeth. His face is a marked one, and I could not mistake it. I hear that he is a cousin of yours. One, Sir James Carnegie, has you doubtless recognized from my description of him, I came to tell you in order that you might decide what my conduct should be. If you wish it so, I will keep the secret in my breast. But if you fear ought from him, I will openly accuse him before the king of the crime he attempted, and shall be ready to meet him in the ordeal of battle should he claim it. I have seen Sir James, Lady Vernon said. I had a letter writ in a feigned hand, telling him that his handiwork in the plot against my life was known, and warning him that unless he left England the proofs thereof would be laid before justice. He had at once sailed for Spain. Whence he has returned but a few days since. He does not know for certain that I am aware of his plottings against us, but he must have seen by my reception of him when he called that I no longer regard him with a friendship which I formerly entertained. I have received a message from him that he will call upon me this evening, and that he trusts he will find me alone, as he would feign confer with me on private matters. When I have learned his intentions I shall be better able to judge what course I had best adopted. I would feign, if it may be, let the matter rest. Sir James has powerful interests, and I would not have him for an open enemy if I can avoid it. Besides, all the talk and publicity which so grave an accusation against a knight and he of mine own family would entail would be very distasteful to me. But should I find it necessary for the sake of my child, I shall not shrink from it. I trust, however, that it will not come to that, but I shall not hesitate, if need be, to let him know that I am acquainted with his evil designs toward us. I will inform you of as much of our interview as it is necessary that you should know. That evening Sir James Carnegie called upon Dame Vernon. I would not notice it the other day, fair cousin, he said, in return for her stiff and ceremonious greeting, but me thinks that you are mightily changed and you're bearing towards me. I had looked on my return from my long journeying for something of the sisterly warmth with which you once greeted me, but I find you as cold and as hard as if I had been altogether a stranger to you. I would fain know in what way I have forfeit at your esteem. I do not wish to enter into bygone, Sir James, the lady said, and would fain let the past sleep if you will let me. Let us then turn, without more ado, to the private matters concerning which you wish to speak with me. If such is your mood, fair Dame, I must needs fall in with it, though in no way able to understand your allusion to the past, wherein my conscious holds me guiltless of ought, which could draw upon me your disfavor. I am your nearest male relative. Anne, as such, would fain confer with you touching the future of young mistress Edith, your daughter. She is now nigh thirteen years of age. Anne is the heiress of broad lands. Is it not time that she were betrothed to uncapable of taking care of them for her, and leading your vassals to battle in these troubled times? Thanks, Sir James, for your anxiety about my child, Dame Vernon said coldly. She is a ward of the king. I am in no way anxious that an early choice should be made for her, but our good Queen Philippa has promised that when the time shall come, his majesty shall not dispose of her hand without my wishes being in some way consulted. And I have no doubt that when the time shall come that she is of marriageable age, and I would not that this should be before she has gained eighteen years, for I like not the over-young marriages which are now in fashion. A knight may be found for her husband, capable of taking care of her and her possessions. But may I ask if, in so speaking to me, you have anyone in your mind's eye as a suitor for her hand? Your manner is not encouraging, sirts, but I had my plan, which would, I hoped, have met with your approval. I am the young lady's cousin and her nearest male relative, and although we are within the limited degrees, there will be no difficulty in obtaining a dispensation from Rome. I am myself passively well off, and some of the mortgages which I had been forced to lay upon my estates have been cleared off during my absence. I have returned home with some reputation, and with a goodly sum gained in the wars with the Moors. I am older than my cousin certainly, but as I am still but thirty-two, this would not, I hope, be deemed an obstacle, and me thought that you would rather entrust her to your affectionate cousin than to a stranger. The king has received me very graciously, and would I trust, offer no opposition to my suit, or it backed by your good will. I suppose, sir James, Dame Vernon said, that I should thank you for the offer which you have made, but I can only reply that while duly conscious of the high honor you have done my daughter by your offer, I would rather see her intergrave than wed it to you. The knight leapt from his seat with a fierce exclamation. This is too much, he exclaimed. And I have a right to know why such an offer on my part should be answered by disdain and even insolence. You have a right to know, Dame Vernon answered quietly, and I will tell you. I repeat, that I would rather see my child intergrave than wed it to a man who attempted to compass the murder of her and her mother. What wild words are these, sir James asked sternly. What accusation is this that you dare bring against me? I repeat what I said, sir James. Dame Alice replied quietly. I know that you plotted with the water pirates of Lambeth to upset her boat as we came down the tames. That you treacherously delayed us at Richmond in order that we might not reach London before dark, and that by enveloping me in a white cloak you gave a signal by which I might be known to your creatures. The knight stood for a moment astounded. He was aware that the fact that he had had some share in the outrage was known, and was not surprised that his cousin was acquainted with the secret, but that she should know all the details with which but one besides himself was, as he believed, acquainted, completely stupefied him. He rapidly, however, recovered himself. I recall now, he said scornfully, the evidence which was given before the justices by some ragged city boy to the effect that he had overheard a few words of a conversation between some Ruffian over in the Lambeth Marshes and an unknown person, but it is due to me, indeed, that there was any suspicion that I was that person alluded to, still lest that a lady of my own family, in whose affection I believed, should credit so monstrous an accusation. I would that I could discredit it, Sir James, Dame Vernon said, sadly, but the proofs were too strong for me. Much more of your conversation than was narrated in court was overheard, and it was at my request that the ragged boy, as you call him, kept silence. And is it possible, the night asked indignantly, that you believed the word of a fellow like this to the detriment of your kinsmen? Why, in any court of law, the word of such a one as opposed to that of a knight and gentleman of honor would not be taken for a moment. You are mistaken, Sir, Dame Vernon said haughtily. You may remember, in the first place, that the lad who overheard this conversation risked his life to save me and my daughter from the consequences of the attack which he heard planned. In the second place, he was no ragged lad, but the apprentice of a well-known citizen. Thirdly, and this is of importance, since he has recognized you since your return, and is ready, should I give him the word, to denounce you. He is no mere apprentice boy, but is of gentle blood, sinned that he is the son of Sir Roland Summers, the former possessor of the lands which I hold, and that he is in high favor with the good knight Sir Walter Manny, whose Esquire he now is, and under whom he distinguished himself in the wars in France, and is, as Sir Walter assured me, certain to win his spurs ere long. Thus you see his bare word would be of equal value to your own, beside the fact that his evidence does not rest upon mere assertation, but that the man in the hut promised to do what you actually performed, namely, to delay me at Richmond, and to wrap me in a white cloak in order that I might be recognized by the river pirates. Sir James was silent. In truth, as he saw, the evidence was overwhelmingly strong against him. After a while, he stammered out. I cannot deny that I was the man in question. But I swear to you that this boy was mistaken, and that the scoundrel acted altogether beyond my instructions, which were simply that he should board the boat and carry you and your daughter away to a safe place. And with what objects are, Dame Vernon said contemptuously, was I to be thus taken away. I do not seek to excuse myself the night replied calmly, having now recovered his self-possession. For I own I acted wrongly and basely. But in truth I loved you, and would feign have made you my wife. I knew that you regarded me with only the calm affection of a kinswoman. But I thought that were you in my power, you would consent to purchase your freedom with your hand. I know now that I erred greatly. I acknowledged my fault, and that my conduct was base and unnightly, and my only excuse is to great love I bore you. And which, the lady said sarcastically, you have now transferred to my daughter, I congratulate you. Sir James, upon the possession of a ready wit, and an invention which does not fail you at a pinch, and of a tongue which repeats unfalteringly any fable which your mind may dictate, you do not, I suppose, expect me to believe the tale. Still I own that it is a well-devised one, and might at a pinch pass muster. But fear not, sir James, as hitherto I have kept silence as to the author of the outrage committed upon me, so I have no intentions of proclaiming the truth now, unless you force me to do so. Suffice that for both myself and for my daughter I disclaim the honor of your hand. So long as you offer no molestations to us, and abstain from troubliness in any way, so long will my mouth be sealed, and I will feign berry in my breast the memory of your offense. I will not give the world's tongue occasion to wag by any open breach between kinfolk, and shall therefore in public salute you as an acquaintance, but under no pretense whatever will I admit you to any future private interview. Now leave me, sir, and I trust that your future life will show that you deeply regret the outrage which in your greed for my husband's lands you were tempted to commit. Without a word, sir James turned and left the room, white with shame and anger, but with an inward sense of congratulations at the romance which he had, on the spur of the moment invented, and which would, he felt sure, be accepted by the world as probable, in the event of the share he had in the matter being made public, either upon the denunciation of Dame Vernon or in any other manner. One determination, however, he made and swore to himself that he would bitterly avenge himself upon the youth whose interference had thwarted his plans, and whose report to his kin's woman had turned her mind against him. He, at any rate, should be put out of the way at the first opportunity, and thus the only witness against himself be removed. For Lady Vernon's own unsupported story would be merely her word against his, and could be treated as the malicious fiction of an angry woman. The following day, Dame Vernon sent for Walter, and informed him exactly what had taken place. Between sir James and me, she said, there is you see a truce. We are enemies, but we agree to lay aside our arms for the time. But Walter, you must be on your guard. You know as well as I do how dangerous this man is, and how good a cause he has to hate you. I would not have divulged your name, had I not known that the frequency of your visits here, and the encouragement which I openly give you as the future suitor of my daughter, would be sure to come to his ears, and he would speedily discover that it was you who saved our lives on the tames, and gave your testimony before the justices, as to the conversation in the hut on the marshes. Thus I forestalled what he would in a few days have learnt. I fear him not, Lady, Walter said calmly. I can hold my own, I hope against him in arms, and having the patronage and friendship of Sir Walter Manny, I am above any petty mouse. Nevertheless, I will hold myself on my guard. I will, so far as possible, avoid any snare, which he may, as does not unlikely, set for my life, and will, so far as I honourably can, avoid any quarrel with which he may seek to saddle me. A few days later, Walter again met Sir James Carnegie in the King's enter room, and saw at once by the fixed look of hate with which he regarded him, that he had already satisfied himself of his identity. He returned the night's stare with a cold look of contempt. The night moved towards him, and in a low tone said, Beware young sir, I have a heavy reckoning against you, and James Carnegie never forgets debts of that kind. I am warned, Sir James, Walter said calmly, but in the same low tone, and believe me, I hold but very lightly the threats of one who does not succeed even when he conspires against the lives of women and children. Sir James started as if he had been struck. Then, with a great effort he recovered his composure, and repeating the word Beware, walked across to the other side of the chamber. The next day Walter went down the river, and had a talk with his friend, Jeffrey. You must beware, lad, the armorer said, when he told him of the return of Sir James Carnegie, and the conversation which had taken place between them. This man is capable of anything, and careeth not where he chooses his instruments. The man of the hut at Lamberth has never been caught since his escape from Richmond Jail. Thanks doubtless to the gold of his employer, and for ought we know, may still be lurking in the marshes there, or in the purlew of the city. He will have a grudge against you, as well as his employer, and in him Sir James would find a ready instrument. He is no doubt connected, as before, with a gang of water pirates and robbers, and it is not one sort alone that you would have to encounter. I think not that you are in danger just at present, for he would know that, in case of your murder, the suspicions of Dame Vernon, and of any others who may know the motive which he has in getting rid of you, would be excited, and he might be accused of having had a share in your death. Still it would be so hard to prove ought against him, that he may be ready to run the risk in order to rid himself of you. Look here, Walter. What think you of this, and the smith drew out from a coffer a shirt of mail, a finer work than Walter had ever before seen? I, lad, I knew you would be pleased, he said, in answer to Walter's exclamation at the finest of the workmanship. I bought this a month ago from a Jew merchant who had recently come from Italy. How he got it, I know not, but I doubt if it were honestly, or he would have demanded a higher price than I paid him. He told me that it was made by the first armorer in Milan, and was constructed especially for a cardinal of the church who had made many enemies by his evil deeds, and could not sleep for fear of assassination. At his death it came, as the Jew said, into his possession. I suppose some rascally attended, took it as a perquisite, and, knowing not of its value, sold it for a few dookats to the Jew. However, it is of the finest workmanship. It is, as you see, double, and each link is made of steel so tough that no dagger or sword point will pierce it. I put it on a block and tried the metal myself, and broke one of my best daggers on it, without a single link giving. Take it lad, you're welcome to it. I bought it with a special eye to you, thinking that you might wear it under your armor in battle, without greatly adding to the weight. But for such dangers as threaten you now, it is invaluable. It is so light and soft that none will dream that you have it under your doublet. And I warrant me, it will hold you safe against the daggers of Sir James's Ruffians. Walter did not like taking a gift so valuable, for his apprenticeship as an armorer had taught him the extreme rarity and costliness of so fine a piece of work. Jeffrey, however, would not hear of his refusal, and insisted on his then and there, taking off his doublet and putting it on. It fit it closely to the body, descending just below the hips, and coming well upon the neck, while the arms extended to the wrists. There the Smith said with delight, now you are safe against sword or dagger, save for a sweeping blow at the head, and that your sword can be trusted to guard. Never take it off, Walter, save when you sleep, and accept when in your own bed. And Sir Walter Manny's. I should advise you to wear it even at night. The weight is nothing, and it will not incomode you. So long as this captive night lives, your life will not be safe. When he is dead, you may hang up the shirt of mail with a light heart. End of Chapter 11. Recording by Richard Kilmer, Rio Medina, Texas. Chapter 12 of St. George for England. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brett Downey. St. George for England by G. A. Henty. Chapter 12. Jacob Van Artveld. King Edward found no difficulty in awakening the war spirit of England anew, for the king of France in an act of infamous treachery, in despite of the solemn terms of the treaty, excited against himself the indignation not only of England, but of all Europe. Oliver de Cleson, with 14 other nobles of Brittany and Normandy, were arrested by his order, taken to Paris, and without form of trial there decapitated. This act of treachery and injustice aroused disgust and shame among the French nobles, and murmurs and discontent spread throughout the whole country. In Brittany, numbers of the nobles fell off from the cause of Charles of Blois, and King Edward hastened his preparations to avenge the butchery of the adherence of the House of Monford. Philip, however, in defiance of the murmurs of his own subjects, of the indignant remonstrances of Edward, and even those of the Pope, who was devoted to his cause, continued the course he had begun, and a number of other nobles were seized and executed. Godfrey of Harcourt alone, worn by the fate of his companions, refused to obey the summons of the king to repair to Paris and fled to Brabant. His property in France was at once seized by Philip, and Godfrey, finding that the Duke of Brabant would be unable to shield him from Philip's vengeance, fled to the English court and did homage to Edward. On the 24th of April, 1345, Edward determined no longer to allow Philip to continue to benefit by his constant violations of the truce, and accordingly sent a defiance to the king of France. Domontford, who had just succeeded in escaping from his prison in Paris, arrived at this moment in England, and shortly afterwards set sail with a small army under the command of the Earl of Northampton for Brittany, while the Earl of Derby took his departure with a larger force for the defense of Guyenne. King Edward set about raising a large army, which he determined to lead himself, but before passing over to France, he desired to strengthen his hold of Flanders. The constant intrigues of Philip there had exercised a great effect. The count of that country was already strongly in his interest, and it was only the influence of Jacob van Artveld, which maintained the alliance with England. This man had, by his talent and energy, gained an immense influence over his countrymen, but his commanding position and ability had naturally excited the envy and hatred of many of his fellow citizens, among whom was the Dean of the Weavers of Ghent, Juan Gerard Denis. The Weavers were the most powerful body in this city, and had always been noted for their turbulence and faction, and on Monday in the month of May, 1345, a great battle took place in the marketplace between them and the Folers, of whom 1500 were slain. This victory of the Weavers strengthened the power of the party hostile to Artveld and the English connection. The former saw that unless he could induce his countrymen to take some irretrievable step in favor of England, they would ultimately fall back into the arms of France. Accordingly, he invited Edward to pass over with a strong force into Flanders, where he would persuade the Flemmings to make the Prince of Wales their Duke. King Edward at once accepted the offer, and sailing from Sandwich on the 3rd of July arrived in safety at Slewie. His intention had been kept a profound secret, and his arrival created the greatest surprise throughout Flanders. He did not disembark, but received on board a ship with great honor and magnificence the Burgermasters of the various towns who appeared to welcome him. The king had brought with him the Prince of Wales, now 15 years old, who wore a suit of black armor, and was therefore called the Black Prince. Walter Summers was on board the Royal Vessel. The Prince of Wales had not forgotten the promise which he had six years before made to him, and had asked Sir Walter Manny to allow him to follow under his banner. You are taking my most trustworthy squire from me, Prince, the knight said, for although I have many brave young fellows in my following, there is not one whom I value so much as Walter Summers. It is but fair, however, that you should have him, since you told me when I first took him that he was to follow your banner when you were old enough to go to the wars. You can rely upon him implicitly. He cares not for the gayities of which most young men of his age think so much. He is ever ready for duty, and he possesses a wisdom and sagacity which will someday make him a great leader. Walter was sorry to leave his patron, but the step was of course a great advancement, and excited no little envy among his companions, for among the young squires of the Prince of Wales were the sons of many of the noblest families of England. Sir Walter presented him on leaving with a heavy purse. Your expenses will be large, he said, among so many young gallants, and you must do credit to me as well as to yourself. The young Prince is generous to a fault, and as he holds you in high favor, both from his knowledge of you and from my report, you will, I know, lack nothing when you are once fairly embarked in his service, but it is needful that when you first join you should be provided with many suits of courtly raiment, of cloth of gold and silk, which were not needed while you were in the service of a simple night like myself, but which must be worn by a companion of the air of England. Walter had hoped that Sir James Carnegie would have accompanied the forces of either the earls of North Hampton or Derby, but he found that he had attached himself to the Royal Army. Ralph, of course, followed Walter's fortunes, and was now brilliant in the appointments of the Prince of Wales' chosen bodyguard of minute arms. The councils of all the great towns of Flanders assembled at Sleew, and for several days great festivities were held. Then a great assembly was held, and Van Artveld rose and addressed his countrymen. He set forth to them the virtues of the Prince of Wales, whose courtesy and bearing had so captivated them. He pointed out the obligations which Flanders was under towards King Edward, and the advantages which would arise from a nearer connection with England. With this he contrasted the weakness of their count, the many ills which his adherence to France had brought upon the country, and the danger which menaced them should his power ever be renewed. He then boldly proposed to them that they should at once cast off their allegiance to the count, and bestow the vacant coronet upon the Prince of Wales, who, as Duke of Flanders, would undertake the defense and government of the country with the aid of a Flemish council. This wholly unexpected proposition took the Flemish burgers by surprise. Artveld had calculated upon his eloquence and influence carrying them away, but his power had diminished, and many of his hearers had already been gained to the cause of France. The burger councils had for a long time had absolute power in their own towns, and the prospect of a powerful Prince at their head fordoomed a curtailment of those powers. When Artveld seized, therefore, instead of the enthusiastic shouts with which he hoped his oration would be greeted, a confused murmur arose. At last several got up and said that, greatly attached as they were to the King, much as they admired the noble young Prince proposed for their acceptance, they felt themselves unable to give an answer upon an affair of such moment without consulting their fellow countrymen and learning their opinions. Therefore they promised that they would return on a certain day and give a decided answer. The Flemish burgers then took their leave. Van Artveld, after a consultation with the King, started at once to use his influence among the various towns. After leaving the King bade adieu to the Prince of Wales. Would you like, the young Prince said, that one of my squires should ride with you? His presence might show the people how entirely I am with you, and should you have tidings to send me, he could ride hither with them. I have one with me who is prudent and wise, and who possesses all the confidence of that wise and valiant knight Sir Walter de Manny. I will gladly take him, your Highness, Van Artveld said, and hope to dispatch him to you very shortly, with the news that the great towns of Flanders all gladly receive you as their Lord. In a few minutes Walter had mounted his horse, accompanied by Ralph, and joining Van Artveld, rode to Bruges. Here and at Ypres, Van Artveld's efforts were crowned with success. His eloquence carried away the people with him, and both these cities agreed to accept the Prince of Wales as their Lord. But the hardest task yet remained. Ghent was the largest and most powerful of the Flemish towns, and here his enemies were in the Ascendant. Girard Denis and the Weavers had been stirring up the people against him. All kinds of accusations had been spread, and he was accused of robbing and selling his country. The news of the hostile feeling of the population reached Van Artveld, and he dispatched Walter with the request to the King for a force of 500 English soldiers as a guard against his enemies. Had Artveld asked for a large force, Edward would have disembarked his army and marched at their head into Ghent. As the rest of the country was already won, there can be little doubt that this steppe would at once have silenced all opposition, and would have annexed Flanders to the British Crown. Van Artveld, however, believed himself to be stronger than he really was, and thought with a small party of soldiers he could seize his principal opponents, and that the people would then rally round him. Upon the arrival of the 500 men, he started for Ghent, but as he feared that the gates would be shut if he presented himself with an armed force, he left the soldiers in concealment a short distance from the town and entered it. Accompanied only by his usual sweet. At his invitation, however, Walter followed, of course, by Ralph, rode beside him. No sooner was he within the gates than Van Artveld saw how strong was the popular feeling against him. He had been accustomed to be recede with boughs of reverence. Now men turned aside as he approached, or scowled at him from their doors. Me think, sir, Walter said, that it would be wiser did we ride back, and, joining the soldiers, enter at their head, or, as that number would be scarce sufficient, should so large a town rise in tumult, to send to King Edward for a larger force and await their coming. Even should they shut the gates, we can reduce the town, and as all the rest of Flanders is with you, surely a short delay will not matter. You know not these flimmings as well as I do, Van Artveld replied. They are surly dogs, but they always listen to my voice, and are ready enough to do my bidding. When I once speak to them, you will see how they will smooth their backs and do as I ask them. Walter said no more, but as he saw everywhere, lowering brows from windows and doorways, as they rowed through the streets, he had doubts whether the power of Van Artveld's eloquence would have the magical potency he had expected from it. When the party arrived at the splendid dwelling of the great demagogue, messengers were instantly sent out to all his friends and retainers. A hundred and forty persons soon assembled, and while Van Artveld was debating with them as to the best steps to be taken, Walter opened the casement and looked out into the street. It was already crowded with people, whose silent and quiet demeanor seemed to bode no good. Arms were freely displayed among them, and Walter saw men passing to and fro, evidently giving instructions. I am sorry to disturb you, Master of Artveld, he said, returning to the room where the council was being held, but me thinks that it would be wise to bar the doors and windows and to put yourself in a posture of defense, for a great crowd is gathering without, for the most part armed, and, as it seems to me, with evil intentions. A glance from the windows confirmed Walter's statements, and the doors and windows were speedily barricaded. Before many minutes had elapsed, the tolling of bells in all parts of the town was heard, and down the different streets leading towards the building, large bodies of armed men were seen making their way. I had rather have to do with a whole French army, Master Walter. Ralph said, as he stood beside him at an upper window looking down upon the crowd. Then with these citizens of Ghent, look at those men with bloody axes and stained clothes. Doubtless those are the skinners and butchers. Did's ever see such a ferocious band of savages? Listen to their shouts. Death to Van Artveld, down with the English alliance. I thought our case was a bad one when the French poured over the walls into van, but me thinks it is a hundred times worse now. We got out of that scrape, Ralph, and I hope we shall get out of this. But, as you say, the prospect is black enough. See, the butchers are hammering at the door with their pole axes. Let us go down and aid in the defense. I am ready, Ralph said, but I shall fight with a lighter heart if you could fix upon some plan for us to adopt when the rabble break in. That they will do so I regard as certain. Seeing that the house is not built for the purposes of defense, but has numerous broad windows on the ground floor by which assuredly they will burst their way in. Wait a moment then, Ralph. Let us run up to the top story and see if there be any means of escape along the roofs. The house stood detached from the others, but on one side was separated from that next to it, only by a narrow lane. And as the upper stories projected beyond those below, the windows were but six feet distant from those on the opposite side of the way. See, Walter said, there is a casement in the room to our left there, which is open. Let us see if it is tenanted. Going into the next room, they went to the window and opened it. It exactly faced the casement opposite, and so far as they could see the room was unoccupied. It were easy to put a plank across, Ralph said. We must not do that, Walter answered. The mob are thick in the lane below. What a roar comes up from their voices, and a plank would be surely seen, and we should be killed there as well as here. No, we must get on to that sill and spring across. The distance is not great, and the jump would be nothing where it not that the casements are so low. It must be done as lightly and quickly as possible, and we may not then be seen from below. Now, leave the door open that we may make no mistake as to the room and come along, for by the sound of the fight it is hot below. Running down the stairs, Walter and Ralph joined in the defense. Those in the house knew that they would meet with no mercy from the infuriated crowd, and each fought with the bravery of despair. Although there were many windows to be defended, and each the mob attacked desperately, the assaults were all repulsed. Many indeed of the defenders were struck down by the pikes and polaxes, but for a time they beat back the assailants whenever they attempted to enter. The noise was prodigious, the alarm bells of the town were all ringing, and the shouts of the combatants were drowned in the hoarse roar of the surging crowd without. Seeing that however valiant was the defense, the assailants must in the end prevail, and feeling sure that his enemies would have closed the city gates, and thus prevented the English without from coming to his assistance. Van Aertveld ascended to an upper story and attempted to address the crowd. His voice was drowned in the roar. In vain he gesticulated and made motions imploring them to hear him, but all was useless, and the courage of the demagogue deserted him, and he burst into tears at the prospect of death. Then he determined to try and make his escape to the sanctuary of a church close by, and was descending the stairs when a mighty crash below, the clashing of steel, shouts and cries, told that the mob had swept away one of the barricades and were pouring into the house. Make for the stair, Walter shouted, and defend yourselves there, but the majority of the defenders bewildered by the inrush of the enemy, terrified at their ferocious aspect and terrible axes, had no thought of continuing the resistance. A few, getting into corners, resisted desperately to the end. Others threw down their arms and dropping on their knees, cried for mercy, but all were ruthlessly slaughtered. Keeping close together, Walter and Rao fought their way to the foot of the stairs and closely pursued by a band of the skinners headed by Gerard Denis, ran up. Upon the first landing stood a man paralyzed with terror. On seeing him, a cry of ferocious triumph rose from the mob. As nothing could be done to aid him, Walter and his follower rushed by without stopping. There was a pause in the pursuit and glancing down from the upper gallery, Walter saw Van Ardfeld in the hands of the mob, each struggling to take possession of him. Then a man armed with a great axe pushed his way among them and swinging it over his head, struck Van Ardfeld dead to the floor. His slayer was Gerard Denis himself. Followed by Ralph, Walter sprang through the open door into the chamber they had marked and closed the door behind them. Then Walter saying, I will go first Ralph, I can help you in should you miss your spring. Mounted on the sill of the casement. Short as was the distance, the leap was extremely difficult, for neither casement was more than three feet high. Walter was therefore obliged to stoop low and to hurl himself head forward across the gulf. He succeeded in the attempt, shooting clear through the casement onto the floor beyond. Instantly he picked himself up and went to Ralph's assistance. The latter, taller and more bulky, had greater difficulty in the task and only his shoulder arrived through the window. Walter seized him and aided him at once to scramble in and they closed the casement behind them. It was well we took off our armor Ralph, its pattern would have been recognized in an instant. Walter had thrown off his helmet as he bounded up the stairs and both he and his companion had rid themselves of their heavy armor. I would give a good deal, he said, for two bourgeois jerkins, even where they as foul as those of the skinners. This is a woman's apartment, he added, looking round, and nothing here will cover my six feet of height to say nothing of your four extra inches. Let us peep into some of the other rooms. This is, doubtless, the house of some person of importance and in the upper floor we may find some clothes of servants or retainers. They were not long in their search. The next room was a large one and contained a number of pallet beds and hanging from pegs on the walls were jerkins, mantles, and other garments, evidently belonging to the retainers of the house. Walter and Ralph were not long in transmogrifying their appearance and had soon the air of two respectable serving men in a Flemish household. But how are we to descend? Ralph asked. We can hardly hope to walk down the stairs and make our escape without being seen, especially as the doors will all be barred and bolted, seeing the tumult which is raging outside. It all depends whether our means of escape are suspected, Walter replied. I should scarce think that they would be. The attention of our pursuers was wholly taken up by Van Artveld and some minutes must have passed before they followed us. No doubt they will search every place in the house and all within it will by this time have been slaughtered. But they will scarce organize any special search for us. All will be fully occupied with the exciting events which have taken place. And as the casement by which we entered is closed, it is scarcely likely to occur to anyone that we have escaped by that means. I will listen first if the house is quiet. If so, we will descend and take refuge in some room below, where there is a better chance of concealment than here. Put the pieces of armor into that closet so that they may not catch the eye of any who may happen to come hither. The day is already closing. Half an hour it will be nightfall. Then we will try and make our way out. Listening at the top of the stair, they could hear voices below. But as the gallery was quiet and deserted, they made their way a floor lower and seeing an open door entered it. Walter looked from the window. There is a backyard below, he said, with the door opening upon a narrow lane. We are now upon the second story, but some 25 feet above the ground. We will not risk going down through the house, which would scarce be accomplished without detection, but will at once tear up into strips the coverings of the bed, and I will make a rope by which we may slip down into the courtyard as soon as it is dark. We must hope that none will come up before that time, but indeed all will be so full of the news of the events which have happened that it is scarcely likely that any will come above at present. The linen sheets and coverings were soon cut up and knotted together in a rope. By the time that this was finished, the darkness was closing in. And after waiting patiently for a few minutes, they lowered the rope and slid down into the yard. Quietly, they undid the bolts of the gate and issued into the lane. The mantles were provided with hoods, as few of the lower class of Flemmings wore any other head covering. Drawing these hoods well over their heads so as to shade their faces, the two sallied out from the lane. They were soon in one of the principal streets, which was crowded with people. Bands of weavers, butchers, skinners, and others were parading the streets shouting and singing in honor of their victory and of the downfall and death of him whom they had but a few days before regarded as the mainstay of Flanders. Many of the better class of burgers stood in groups in the streets and talked in low and rather frightened voices of the consequences, which the deed of blood would bring upon the city. On the one hand, Edward might march upon it with his army to avenge the murder of his ally. On the other hand, they were now committed to France. Their former ruler would return and all the imposts and burden against which they had rebelled would again be laid upon the city. What should we do now? Ralph asked. For assuredly, there will be no issue by the gates. We must possess ourselves of a length of rope, if possible, and make our escape over the wall. How to get one, I know not, for the shops are all closed and even were it not so, I could not venture in to purchase any, for my speech would betray us at once. Let us separate and each see whether he can find what we want. We will meet again at the entrance to this church in an hour's time, one or other of us may find what we seek. Walter searched in vain. Wherever he saw the door of a yard open, he peered in, but in no case could he see any signs of rope. At the end of the hour, he returned to their rendezvous. Ralph was already there. I have found nothing, Ralph. Have you had better fortune? That I have, Master Walter, and was back nine hours since. Scarce had I left you when in a back street I came upon a quiet hulsatory and in the courtyard were standing half a dozen teams of cattle, doubtless their owners had brought hay or corn into the city, and when the tumult arose and the gates were closed found themselves unable to escape. The masters were all drinking within, so without more ado I cut off the ropes which served as traces for the oxen and had them wound round my body under my mantle. There must be 20 yards at least, and as each rope is strong enough to hold double our weight there will be no difficulty in lowering ourselves from the walls. You have done well indeed Ralph, Walter said. Let us make our way thither at once. Everyone is so excited in the city that as yet there will be but few guards upon the wall. The sooner, therefore, that we attempt to make our escape the better. End of Chapter 12