CHAPTER XLVI
A TOWN LOST AND WON
It was not my fortune to accompany the Prince of Wales in that expedition which, in the autumn of 1355, he made in the South of France. At this time I was with the King of England, at Calais, and engaged in the enterprise which circumstances, not under his control, compelled him to abandon, after reaching Hesdin and destroying the outworks.
Nevertheless, on Edward's return to Calais, it seemed that there was still some hope of the French once more bearding the lion of Cressy. In fact, John of Valois summoned an army to assemble at Amiens, and, advancing as far as St. Omer, sent his marshal to challenge the king to a general battle. But events proved that the French were not in earnest, and that the challenge was sent for no other purpose than to keep the king inactive at Calais until preparations could be made for the Scots crossing the Tweed, and ravaging the North of England, so as to compel Edward to cross the seas, and hasten to the rescue of his subjects.
At this crisis I was all vigilance; and, having my suspicions that John of Valois was playing the game which his sire had attempted with so little success, I exercised all my ingenuity to gain intelligence. My efforts were not in vain; and one day, while the king, still under the delusion that he was to have an opportunity of combating his enemies, was in the courtyard of Calais Castle, with his sons, Lionel and John, and looking on while the young princes were diverting themselves with chivalrous exercises, I carried to him the alarming intelligence that John of Valois, in order to induce his allies of Scotland to make a diversion in his favour, had despatched to that country a knight, named Eugène de Garentière, with sixty picked men-at-arms, and forty thousand crowns to be expended in mustering an army.
On hearing of this new danger, Edward entered the castle, and, after duly considering the matter, ordered me to depart instantly to England, to make with all speed to the North, and to warn Sir John Copeland to draw fighting men together, to exercise the utmost vigilance against surprise, and to be ready in case of a regular invasion, to take steps for giving the Scots battle.
"But," said the king, "it is rather a surprise than any regular invasion that I apprehend; for, after the result of their march to Durham, and their rout at Neville's Cross, they will shrink from any great enterprise, and recur to their old system of making sudden and rapid inroads."
I embarked for England without loss of time; and, so far as I was concerned, no delay occurred in the execution of the king's behest. But I was all too late to prevent mischief. As Edward had foreseen, the Scots did not occupy themselves with extensive preparations. Having shared the French crowns among them, the chief nobles and Robert Stuart, who acted as guardian of Scotland during the captivity of the King of Scots, determined on an immediate incursion, and accordingly sent a force to the Border, under Lord Douglas and Sir William Ramsay, a knight of prowess and courage.
But the Scots were cautious. In order to insure success it was necessary to resort to stratagem; and, well knowing that such was the case, Douglas, on reaching the Merse, halted at a place called Nisbet Moor, and sent forward Ramsay with a body of horse, who, fording the Tweed, pushed as far as Norham, burned the little town, defied the castle, and then, pretending to fly, allured Sir Thomas Dacre and an English force over the Border and into the Merse, and ultimately, fighting as they went, to Nisbet Moor, where, ready for action, the main body of the Scots lay in ambush.
And no sooner, indeed, did Dacre and his band reach this place than the Scots sprang upon them and made a fierce attack, with shouts of "Douglas! Douglas for ever! Ye shall die, ye thieves of England!" It was in vain that the English struggled against the numbers opposed to them. Surprised and surrounded, they were speedily overcome; and Dacre, after killing Haliburton and Turnbull, two Scottish knights of consequence, was forced to yield and surrender his sword.
Elate with this advantage, such as it was, the Scots determined to pursue their success. But they coveted something more substantial than barren honour, and, eager for spoil, they turned their eyes towards Berwick.
Natural it was that the Scots should have bethought themselves of the town which, at the beginning of his reign, and after his victory at Halidon, Edward had torn from their grasp; for, as a stronghold in English hands, it was to them an awkward neighbour. Not only did it form a formidable barrier in the East Marches to the incursions of the Scots, but checked their operations in other quarters; and the boldest of them shrank from the consequences of an inroad by the Middle or West Marches, when they reflected on the probability of the Captain of Berwick sallying forth in retaliation, at the head of his garrison, and sweeping the country to the gates of Edinburgh.
And, in another respect, it was a tempting prize; for the king, eager to repair the injuries sustained by its trade during the Scottish wars, had granted the town great privileges; and, availing themselves of their privileges, the townsmen had grown prosperous and rich. Such being the case, the Scots felt that there was nowhere a better chance of booty.
At this time Sir Alexander Ogle was Captain of Berwick, and Sir Robert Boynton governor of the castle. Neither of them seems to have been apprehensive of danger, and probably both of them deemed the place perfectly secure, even in case of an assault being attempted. On the first point, however, they deceived themselves, and on the second they forgot that they had to deal with men no less crafty than courageous.
It was late in the year 1355, and Thomas Stuart, who called himself Earl of Angus, having collected a fleet, embarked with a multitude of armed men, and on a dark night sailed into the mouth of the Tweed. The hour favoured his adventure. It was just as the first dawn of returning day was perceptible, and the town was hushed in repose, that the Scots, accompanied by Garentière and his Frenchmen, disembarked on the northern bank of the river, and moved stealthily and unobserved to the foot of the walls. Reaching a part called the Cowgate, and making use of scaling ladders, they climbed the walls, and, overpowering the sentinels, leaped into the town. But at this stage of affairs the alarm was sounded, and Ogle, rousing his men, appeared to oppose them sword in hand. A desperate conflict then took place in the streets and lanes; and the Scots, after slaying Ogle and two other English knights, remained masters of the town. But the Scots had purchased their victory dearly. Even taken at advantage, and overborne by numbers, the reputation which that famous garrison enjoyed had been well maintained. In yielding to numbers, they had proved their valour and prowess; and, when the sun rose and revealed the carnage, the conquerors found that, in the encounter, they had lost six knights of note, besides a host of inferior men.
Moreover, Ogle's resistance had been of infinite service to the inhabitants, for great, as may be supposed, was their consternation when they became aware that the Scots were upon them. Roused from sleep, and springing from their beds, the townsmen carried off the women and children, and ran for their lives in terror and despair. Some escaped by the gates, others ran to the castle; and the Scots found themselves in possession of the wealth, the thought of which had excited their cupidity and stimulated their ardour.
But the situation of the Scots was not, in all respects, pleasant. The castle held sternly out, and all their efforts to take it proved failures. Moreover, the garrison sent to ask the counsel and aid of Copeland; and, in concert with him, a plan was formed for introducing into the castle a number of English warriors, who might enter the town by what was called Douglas Tower, and recover the place by strength of hand.
However well conceived, the project came to naught. By some process intelligence of what was passing reached the Scots; and, on learning the intentions of the garrison, and after having been masters of Berwick for a week, they hastened to seize the Douglas Tower. Having done so, with the assistance of Garentière and his Frenchmen, they defended both town and tower so resolutely that no impression could be made.
But matters could not possibly remain as they were, and John of Valois soon had reason to congratulate himself on the success of Garentière's mission. So great was the importance of Berwick, that Edward, on hearing how affairs were, abandoned his schemes on the Continent, and embarked for England, to take measures for the recovery of the place, and, after staying three days in London, set out on his way northward.
It was on an early day in January, 1356, when the king, having kept his Christmas in Newcastle, and summoned the fighting men of the North to his standard, came before Berwick at the head of his army, accompanied by his two sons and Sir Walter Manny, while his fleet appeared in the Tweed. Repairing to the castle, while Manny set miners brought from Dean Forest to work, Edward prepared to let down the drawbridge and attack the town from the castle, while Sir Walter, with the aid of the miners of Dean, was employed in advancing a mine below the walls. But a brief period proved that neither operation was necessary. Indeed, when the Scots perceived the combination of art and force that was to be used against them, the sight was enough. With one voice they cried that it was time to surrender, and only begged that they might be permitted to march out with safety of life and limb.
Not wishing to drive matters between himself and the Scots to extremity, Edward, indignant and angry, as he might well be, at their unprovoked aggression, granted their prayer; and terms of capitulation having been agreed to, they were allowed to march out and return to their own country.
Nevertheless, after Berwick had in this way been lost and won, and when the townsmen, returning to their homes, complained loudly of the injuries they had sustained, the King of England considered it expedient to take precautions against future inroads; and, leaving men to garrison the town and repair the fortifications, he set out for the castle of Roxburgh, where he was to hold a conference with Edward Baliol, who, as legitimate heir of the ancient Kings of Scotland, still claimed the Scottish throne.
CHAPTER XLVII
"A DOUGLAS!"
At the castle of Roxburgh, situated hard by the confluence of the Tweed and the Teviot, and the scene of many a royal festival in the days of William the Lion and the Alexanders, the King of England remained for some time, revolving his plans for the settlement of Scotland; and there Baliol, now an old man and childless, and unprepared to assert his hereditary right to the crown and kingdom, made it over to Edward by formally delivering the crown which had been placed on his head at Scone, and some of the soil of the kingdom which his ancestors had enjoyed, and, at the same time, declared him heir to all the estates of the house of Baliol on both sides of the Tweed.
This ceremony, which was not destined to have much influence on the course of events, took place in the presence of the Bishop of Durham and the Abbots of Melrose and Dryburgh; and the king, learning that the Scots had assembled to oppose his progress, prepared to raise the banner of Scotland and march against them.
But it was generally the habit of the warriors of Scotland to conceal their movements; and Edward, having on this occasion only a vague idea in what direction the Scots were to be found, and becoming eager for intelligence, ordered that two squires should ride forth and reconnoitre. Accordingly I was sent, in company with Robert Salle, the youth of whom I have spoken as attached to Aymery de Pavie when Governor of Calais, with instructions to discover, if possible, at all risks, where the Scots were to be found.
Between Salle and myself a close friendship had sprung into existence during Edward's expedition to Calais; and as both of us had emerged from obscurity, and as we both owed to our skill and courage what reputation we enjoyed, we naturally sympathised on many points. But I did not fully share the antipathy which, in his more dreary moods, he, as the son of a mason, felt for men who had inherited high names and great possessions; and as I sometimes, under the influence of imagination, talked as if there was a gulf between us, we could not always avoid discussions of a more warm kind than was agreeable. On the present occasion our tendency in this respect was destined to lead us into an awkward predicament.
As may be supposed, our mission was not without perils, which only the utmost vigilance could guard against; and, considering how little we knew of the country, we certainly should have remembered our danger. But, young and adventurous, we thought lightly of the hazard as we rode on through mud and mire. At first we examined every hill and dale with searching eyes. But, when no human being appeared, we became more careless, and it was not till after pursuing our way for hours, and as we were skirting an extensive wood, that I instinctively felt that danger might be nigh.
"Beshrew me if I like the aspect of this place!" exclaimed I suddenly. "I would that Copeland, our northern hero, or some man familiar with the country, were here to guide us safely!"
"By St. George!" replied Salle, "I confess I begin to be somewhat alarmed; but, be the peril what it may, we hazard nothing but our lives."
"True," said I; "but life has its sweets, and I am not yet so weary of mine as to feel indifferent to the possibility of losing it – least of all, needlessly; for, as the Orientals say, there is no hope of living again, seeing that man is not a water-melon, and that, when once in the ground, he cannot grow again."
"And yet," remarked Salle, "I have heard that ancient sages were wont to say, 'Let no man be envied till his death;' and, for my own part, I see not how a warrior could better die than for his king and country."
"A noble sentiment, doubtless," said I, "and one to be carefully cherished; but methinks it is better to live to serve one's king and country in manhood and age than to die uselessly for them in youth. Moreover, you know, I have still to penetrate the mystery of my birth, and that is a motive for wishing to live."
"Tush!" exclaimed Salle querulously; "why harp for ever on that string? What matters it what has been a man's birth, if his heart is noble and his hand strong?"
"Little, mayhap," I replied; "still, I would fain have the consciousness of an interest in the past, and be at the bottom of the mystery, the solution of which might give me such an interest."
"You never will penetrate your mystery," said he in a conclusive tone.
"Now," replied I, repressing an angry feeling that stirred in my breast, "I hold not with you; for few secrets can escape an investigator who pursues the inquiry with determination; and it ever seems to me that there is a voice telling me that the truth which I pant to learn will one day be revealed; and, therefore, I continue the search after it with the ardour of a Knight of the Round Table in quest of the Sangreal."
"And what, I pray you, was the Sangreal?" asked Salle with a sneer.
"Nothing less than the sacred vessel from which the Redeemer of Mankind and his disciples ate the last supper," replied I, crossing myself devoutly; "and which Joseph of Arimathea brought, with the spear used at the crucifixion, when he came to England to convert the inhabitants to Christianity, and planted, near the abbey of Glastonbury, the miraculous thorn which blossoms every year at Christmas."
"And did the Knights of the Round Table succeed in their quest of this Sangreal?" inquired Salle.
"Yes, in truth did they," answered I, proud of my lore; "it was at length achieved by a knight named Galahad, aided by Sir Bors and Sir Percival, both champions of high renown in Christendom."
"On my faith," said Salle, almost contemptuously, "I never heard the names of these knights before, nor do I hold myself the less cheap that their names were unknown to me."
"And on my faith," exclaimed I, provoked to anger, "I did not deem that in England there existed a single aspirant to fame in arms who had not heard of the Sangreal."
"You forget that I was not reared daintily in kings' palaces," rejoined he, "but in a camp."
I bit my lip and refrained from replying to the taunt, but, as I thought of Cressy and Neville's Cross, my heart swelled with indignation.
It must by this time have been four o'clock, and we had been riding for hours without catching sight or hearing tidings of the enemy; when, just as this dialogue terminated, and we were turning a corner of the wood we had been skirting, we suddenly saw, before our eyes, an army marching northward. Reining instantly up, we drew back to escape observation, and as the winter sun, which was setting, flashed upon crested helms and rows of spears, the spectacle was inspiriting.
"Now," said I, pointing to the retreating host, "let him that is weary of life try a jeopardy."
"On my faith," replied Salle bluntly, "to me it seems that we are in sufficient jeopardy where we are;" and, pointing to a horseman who emerged from the wood, he added, "let us fly."
"It is too late," said I, looking round in alarm. "See you not that we are circumvented?" And as I spoke we were surrounded on all sides; for the horseman was a knight, and with him he had not fewer than thirty lances.
"Who are you?" asked the knight, riding forward and roughly seizing my rein; "speak, sirrah."
"Sir knight," answered I, endeavouring to be calm, "my comrade rejoices in the name of Robert Salle, and men call me Arthur Winram; and we are squires of England."
"On my troth," he exclaimed, eyeing me as if I had been an inferior being, "you speak boldly for one of your years and condition; and for your comrade, I trow that he is not dumb, that you, albeit the younger of the two, should answer so readily for him. But say at once what is your errand, and speak truly. Otherwise you will fare the worse; for trees are more plentiful here than carrion, and the Scottish ravens are not, for the time being, too well provided with food. Now I listen."
"In truth, then, sir knight," began I after a brief pause, "our errand is simple enough. We come from the camp of the English to look for the Scots."
"And you have found us," exclaimed the knight with a hoarse laugh; "and by St. Bride!" added he, "let me comfort you with the assurance that you shall not leave us at your pleasure."
"Gramercy for your courtesy, sir knight," replied I, my spirit rising. "And since you so relish our company, albeit our acquaintance is somewhat of the briefest, deign to say, I pray you, into whose hands we have had the fortune to fall."
"My name is Douglas," replied the knight sternly; "a name at which Englishmen are wont to tremble."
"Faith, sir knight," said I, with a smile which I doubt not was provoking, "if Englishmen ever were afflicted with that failing, they have had time to recover from it since Dupplin, and Halidon, and Neville's Cross."
"Varlet!" exclaimed the knight, his anger rising high, "bandy not such words with me, before whose father's sword Englishmen were wont to fly as deer before the hounds."
And in truth, as I afterwards learned, the knight was Archibald Douglas, the illegitimate son of him whom the Scots called "the good Sir James," and who, while on the way to Palestine with the heart of Bruce, was slain by the Saracens in Spain; and I, moreover, learned that the knight himself meditated an early pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
But at the moment I knew nothing of Archibald Douglas save the name, and that we were his prisoners. Giving us into the custody of his companions, he charged them to conduct us to a castle, the name of which I did not catch, to guard us well, and not, as they valued their lives, to allow us to escape.
"The varlets," he said, "have, if I mistake not, seen more than they would care to tell, and could give their king – upon whose head may my curse rest, now and for ever – such intelligence as would enable him to defeat all our plans." And as the knight spoke he rode off, with the greater part of his followers, towards the Scottish army, while we, under the escort of six of his men-at-arms, took our way towards the castle which was destined to be the scene of our captivity.