Chapter XXII: In Arms

"Fair Mistress Alys, we have come to say farewell." The Constable's daughter, with her banner in her hands, was waiting for this farewell visit from Amalric de Montfort. All knew now that the red flame of war was about to leap forth and devour the land. The King, having scornfully refused all overtures, was already marching upon Northampton, whither so many Oxford students had fled. The Earl of Leicester was in the neighbourhood of London, where Amalric was about to join him; and with him was to march an eager, gallant little band, which included a number of his comrades in this city, and in particular Leofric Wyvill, who for the nonce was acting as his esquire and personal attendant.

The thought of regular study had become impossible even to a studious mind like Leofric's. Confusion reigned at Oxford, and for the time being the students had dispersed in all directions. Masters and pupils had alike caught the infection of excitement. Doubtless the city would return to its normal conditions in time, and the scholars would flock back in great numbers during the course of the ensuing months; but for the immediate present nothing was talked of but the approaching appeal to arms, and books were laid aside for the sword, which was the weapon that must decide this next crisis of the country's history.

Since the King's scornful rejection of the Barons' moderate request, all thoughts of peace had been abandoned. Amalric had got together his eager little band, and now he had come, with a few picked comrades beside him, to say farewell to Mistress Alys, and to receive at her fair hands the silken banner that she and Linda had spent so many long hours in working for him, with his father's coat of arms.

By this time the friends and followers of Amalric had come to regard Alys as his plighted lady-love, albeit in reality no troth-plight had passed between them. It was scarce the right time for proffering love-suits, but yet the Constable and his wife could not be ignorant of the fact that young Lord Amalric had set his affections upon their daughter.

She stood now beside her parents, with the silken banner in her hands, her fair face flushed, her heart beating rather fast, for she had never before taken so public a part as she was to-day called upon to do in the presentation of the banner; and remembering some words spoken to her by Linda not many days before, she wondered whether indeed this act in any way committed her to a step which she had never seriously contemplated, and did not desire to contemplate.

But maidens in those days had little choice of action. She had been bidden by her parents to appear in the great hall and give the Lord Amalric the banner. Now she was holding it out towards him, a blush on her cheek, a bright light in her eyes; and perhaps it was only Linda, out of all those standing by, who noted how the timid glance of the girl's eyes went past the gay and gallant figure of Amalric and rested upon the graceful form of Leofric, who in his shining armour, and with his bared head from which the golden locks floated in a soft cloud, looked the very image of some pious knight going forth upon a sacred quest, not in search of gain to himself, but for love of the good cause.

And this was indeed the feeling which actuated Leofric. He had small expectation of any personal advantage from this war. Probably he would have gained more of that by remaining in Oxford and continuing his studies there, for he was more of the student than the soldier by nature. But he was convinced of the righteousness of the cause on which the Barons were embarked. He had imbibed the teachings of the Franciscans, and believed that duty and love of his country demanded this sacrifice and effort. True, he was sufficiently imbued with martial ardour at this moment to go forth proudly and eagerly; but the guiding motive was love for his fellows and for his country, as distinguished from personal ambition.

The same could not, perhaps, be said so entirely for Amalric. If this war ended in a victory for the Barons, his father would be the greatest man in the kingdom, and his sons must of necessity become men of importance, if not of wealth. Already he was treated with greater deference and respect than he had ever been. It was natural that his heart should swell with pride and joy at thought of the coming struggle; for with the country so entirely with them, how could they think of failure?

It was a pretty sight to see the gallant youth come forward and take the banner from the hands of Alys, kissing those fair hands at the same time, and vowing that the very sight and touch of that banner would act as a talisman and charm.

Alys spoke a few low-toned words of encouragement and hope which she had conned over beforehand; then the banner was laid before Brother Angelus, who was there for the purpose, and he was asked to bless it ere it went forth to do its appointed work.

The friar performed this office very reverently, and gave the banner once more into Amalric's hands, charging him to be a true and faithful servant to his heavenly as well as to his earthly father; to show mercy and kindness to his foes in the hour of triumph; to look for help to God, and not to man; to avoid all haughtiness of spirit in the time of prosperity, and lack of faith if adversity should come; always to remember the poor, and seek to mitigate by every means possible the inevitable horrors of war: this was the duty of the soldier who loved the Lord as well as the cause. The prayers of all good men would follow and aid those whose hearts were pure and their hands vowed to the righteous work.

Whilst this charge was being given in one part of the hall, taking up the attention of the spectators, Alys had watched her opportunity, and had drawn Leofric towards her by a little gesture of the hand. It was natural that she should wish to say farewell to her brother's friend, and one in whose company she herself had passed so many happy hours. None noted anything strange in the action, and few heeded it.

"Thou art going to the war, Leofric?" she asked, in a voice which faltered a little in spite of herself.

"Yes, truly am I, fair Mistress Alys. I love not war, and yet methinks I cannot keep away. The Lord Amalric is my friend, and he and his have shown me great kindness; besides this, I have at heart the cause of the people. Methinks I would fain strike a blow against the iniquitous pretensions of the Pope, and the tyranny of false sycophants, who turn his Majesty's heart from his own loyal subjects."

"But thou wilt come back?" said the maiden, with the sparkle of tears in her eyes.

"I trow yes," he answered earnestly. "I shall ever look upon this city as my home. If I come safe through what lies before us next, I will return when the sword is laid down, as pray Heaven it soon may be."

"I pray so indeed," answered Alys earnestly; "I shall pray for thy safety night and day."

For a moment their eyes met, and a flush arose in the cheek of both. They stood thus for several seconds, as though no words would come to either.

Alys first recovered herself, and unwinding a scarf of crimson silk which she wore about her waist, she lightly threw it over Leofric's shoulder, saying softly,--

"Wear it as thy sword-belt, and forget me not."

The moment was past. Like one awakening from a dream, Leofric followed the rest from the hall into the courtyard, where their horses were standing. He knotted the scarf across his shining breastplate, and gave one long look at Alys as he passed from the hall. But although she came out to see them all mount and ride away, he did not even seek to catch her eye or to exchange a word with her again. His heart was in a strange glow. He felt like a knight who has received a token from one almost too sacred and high above him to be dreamed of as lady-love; yet in the strength of that token he felt that he could work prodigies of valour. What could he not do for her sweet sake? And yet the idea of asking anything in return never entered his head. Was it not enough that she had shown to him, the poor student and bachelor, that she regarded him with interest, and thought of him as of a friend?

Away rode the cavalcade in the bright sunshine of the early spring, the citizens cheering them to the echo, the friars pausing to bless them and their crusade, their own hearts full of joy and the anticipation of coming triumph.

The King had marched to Northampton, as has already been said, therefore to take a northerly route would be unsafe for the little band. Amalric believed his father to be in or near London, and anyhow the metropolis was known to be favourable to the cause of the Barons. He had therefore made up his mind to proceed thither, and all through the hours of the daylight the little band of horsemen trotted briskly on their way, receiving warm greetings from the inhabitants of the towns and villages through which they passed, and becoming more and more confident as to the feeling of the nation, at least in these regions.

They avoided the road which would take them near Windsor, for there they feared the power of the King was still in the ascendant. They kept a more northerly course, and by the time the daylight waned found themselves close to Watford, where they resolved to encamp for the night. As they approached the place, they were aware of a considerable excitement going on; and when they rode into the streets with the banner of the De Montforts floating before them, the people crowded round them in great excitement, clamouring to know the news.

"They say the war has broken out! They say the people have attacked the King's brother's house at Isleworth, and devastated everything. The Temple is broken open, and the money carried off. The Jews have been pillaged, and their houses burnt. The bell of St. Paul's was ringing all yesterday. They say great things are being done in the city!"

Amalric knew nothing of this; but it sounded like the beginning of war, and he eagerly asked for news of his father.

At the moment none could tell him more than that the Earl was in London, and that this insurrection had been made in his favour. Amalric would fain have pushed on through the night to join him, but was restrained by the unfitness of their horses for a longer journey. The inhabitants of the little place received them most hospitably; and whilst they were yet at supper after their long day's travel, a messenger came bursting in full of exciting news.

"The Earl is at St. Albans! The news has just come! He is on his way to relieve Northampton, which has sent to him for help against the King. He rests there to-night, and on the morrow he resumes his march. God be with him in his undertakings; for we were sick to death of the exactions of foreigners and the taxes of the Pope. 'Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.'"

A great cheer went round, and was taken up by those without. Now indeed did it seem like the longed-for liberation, when an army was in pursuit of the tyrannical monarch to defeat him, and rescue a besieged city. Amalric could scarce sleep at night for excitement, and early next day he was astir, visiting his own charger himself, and assuring himself that a night's rest had put the gallant creature in trim for his day's work.

All the place was astir. Recruits had joined the little band. The spirit of enthusiasm and enterprise was working mightily; the consciousness of the near presence of the Earl acted like new wine on the spirits of the men.

The ride from Watford to St. Albans was but short, and soon after nine o'clock the little band approached the city Walls. The same air of excitement and animation pervaded that locality, and as soon as Amalric's banner was seen, the people rushed out and gave him eager and joyous welcome. Leaving the bulk of his followers drawn up in the street, and taking with him only Leofric and a couple of others, Amalric went straight to the quarters of his father. All the place was full of soldiers, the clang of arms was heard everywhere, and the tale of the uprising of the citizens of London in their hero's favour was passing from mouth to mouth in the crowd. Amalric was received with shouts of welcome when it was known that he was indeed a son of their chief and idol. The cheering brought De Montfort out from his house, and it was touching to see the eager greeting betwixt father and son.

Amalric was off his horse in a moment, and had bent his knee to his father; whilst the Earl's eagle face softened at sight of his youngest son, and he embraced him tenderly, with many tokens of welcome and greeting.

A few words served to explain the mutual position of father and son. The Earl was glad of any reinforcements of trained men at this juncture, and spoke very courteously to Amalric's gallant little Oxford contingent when he rode up at his son's side. Already preparations were afoot for the moving on towards Northampton, and De Montfort explained to Amalric that the younger Simon was there, conducting the defence, and had sent an urgent summons to his father to march quickly thither to his relief.

"Simon is rash," said the Earl gravely: "he has courage, but lacks discretion. I shall not rest till I am there myself. I would that I could be in a score of places at once!"

It would not be possible to reach Northampton till the morrow; but the army was being marshalled into array for the start, when suddenly there came dashing into the town a mud-bespattered messenger, riding a horse that looked ready to drop, and Amalric suddenly cried out in alarm,--

"My lord father--see! it is my brother Guy!"

Guy de Montfort it was. He had outstripped all his followers in his eagerness when he knew that his father was at hand. His horse reeled in his tracks, and fell panting and exhausted in the streets the moment his task was done; whilst the rider, weary and worn as he was, flung himself upon his father with an eager demonstration of joy, albeit he was the bearer of evil tidings.

"The city is lost to us! Northampton is in the King's hands! It is all the treachery of the foreign foe!" and there and then in the ears of the indignant people he poured out his tale--how the Prior of the monastery of St. Andrew, just outside the walls, had undermined the wall, and so let in a party of the King's soldiers, whilst an attack had been feigned at the opposite end of the town. It was no lack of gallantry on the part of the besieged; for so well had they defended the walls, and in particular so great had been the damage done to the assailants through the slings, the bows, and the catapults of the Oxford clerks, who fought under an independent banner of their own, that the King had vowed he would slay every man of them once he got into the city; so that these had had to fly helter-skelter when the news came that the town had been taken by strategy, and that the King's troops were already within.

"And thy brother Simon?" asked De Montfort, who listened silently to this tale, without breaking into the lamentations which filled the air from those who stood round.

"Alack, he is a prisoner in the King's hands!" answered Guy--"a fate I narrowly escaped myself. For we ordered a sortie as a last hope, and Simon's horse, terrified by the noise and confusion, became unmanageable, and carried him whether he would or no into the camp of our foes. I was riding after him to seek to aid him, when I was surrounded and carried off, not by enemies, but by friends. The Oxford clerks having got wind of the King's special wrath against them, were flying from the city ere they should be taken, and seeing me in peril, they dashed round and bore me away with them. I could scarce thank them at the time; but methinks it is little I could do for Simon, and liberty with the power to fight is sweet."

Great dismay and anger reigned in the ranks of De Montfort's soldiers at the news of this disastrous event; but the Earl himself reminded his followers that it was but the fortune of war. They could not look for unqualified success in any campaign, but must take the evil with the good, not being over-elated by the one, nor unduly cast down by the other.

But the news brought by his son changed the tactics of the Earl. To march upon Northampton would now be useless. He was in some ways glad to be spared that task, and to carry out his former plans of securing Rochester, which had fallen into the hands of the Earl of Warenne and some other nobles, and was now holding out for the King.

But before the army started forth on this counter-march, the heart of Leofric was gladdened and lightened by the sudden appearance of his comrades Jack Dugdale and Gilbert Barbeck, who had been amongst that band of Oxford clerks who had made their way to Northampton, and had narrowly escaped falling into the hands of the enraged monarch.

Now they came riding after Guy de Montfort in straggling fashion, weary and worn with their rapid flight, but full of hope and courage, and eager to join forces with the great Earl, to whose cause they were bound body and soul. It was a gladsome meeting between the comrades, and the Earl himself gave cordial welcome to the gallant little band, and even postponed his march for a few hours, to give them time to rest and refresh themselves, and to obtain fresh horses from the friendly citizens.

"Now, this is like adventure!" cried eager Jack, as they rode forth at last, a gallant company, he and Leofric side by side, to their own infinite content. "I tell thee, good comrade, I have tasted war, and I like the flavour of it mightily. I hewed down with my good sword three fellows who came spurring after us, and from the walls I slew a goodly number. Yes, the King himself stormed at the havoc we clerks of Oxford wrought amongst his followers. I tell thee, Leofric, if he did put slight upon us, we have revenged that slight in baths of blood!"

From his talk, merry Jack seemed almost to have turned into a bloodthirsty soldier; yet he was the good-natured, kindly comrade as of old to those who came across him. He became a favourite with all during that quick march, and even the grave Earl was seen to smile sometimes, either at some of the youth's sallies, or at the mirth they provoked. For Amalric would have him in his company, enlisting him as an esquire, second only to Leofric; so that De Montfort could not but notice him from time to time, and once he called upon him for his account of the fight on the walls of Northampton.

But Jack was destined to distinguish himself in another way ere many days had passed. He was burning with zeal in the cause of the Barons, and intensely eager to avenge the slight put upon that cause by the stratagem of Northampton.

"If they outwitted us once, surely we may outwit them here," he remarked, as he looked at the solid walls of the city of Rochester, and wondered how they were to be captured.

He took counsel with one or two bold spirits, Leofric amongst the number, and presently the vague idea which had suggested itself grew into a definite plan.

Amalric himself led the youth into the presence of his father to tell the thing he had conceived, and Jack spoke out boldly, being a stranger to fear.

"Sir," he said, "I have been used to the water all my days, and yestere'en I took a boat and dropped down with the tide into the city. There is a bridge in the heart of it, and I thought how that if, whilst we wait without the walls, we should send a fire-ship up the river's mouth with the tide, and fire it against the bridge, it would so affright and disturb the city, drawing all attention to the centre of the town, that our brave soldiers at the gates could soon force an entrance, even as at Northampton the false attack drew off the attention of us all from that spot where the false foreign Prior had undermined the wall. If a base foreign traitor can outwit honest Englishmen, surely it is a game we can pay them back!"

The Earl turned over the idea many times, and it found favour in his sight. A small fire-ship could be easily made ready, and the ruse might prove successful.

"And how shall we know that the ship will come to anchor by the bridge and fire there?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Sir," answered Jack boldly, "if you will accord your gracious permission, I will guide it thither myself, and having fired it will dive off, and secrete myself somewhere amongst the shipping until the tide turn and I can swim away. Or perchance my comrade, Leofric, will accompany me in a small boat, and take me aboard when my task is done."

The idea took hold upon the mind of De Montfort, and with great dispatch and secrecy the fire-ship was prepared. The strong walls of Rochester hardly invited assault unless there were some counter-distraction within the city to render such assault less perilous to those without.

The warlike Earl was daily weakening the walls by the resolute action of his engines. He had machines almost unknown as yet in England, and gave the besieged little rest night or day. But for all that the solid walls still defied him, and the idea of assault was too perilous even for the courage of the fearless De Montfort. He must not risk a second repulse, lest the spirit of his soldiers should give way. He must not attempt anything till success was assured.

But Jack's stratagem was destined to prove a complete success. Accompanied only by Leofric, in a light boat towed behind, the bold young soldier guided his phantom craft up the mouth of the river upon a dark, moonless night. By this time he had learned the river by heart, and had no difficulty in quietly grounding the vessel against the bridge. Then silently setting light to her fiery contents, he slipped overboard to Leofric, and the two cast off, and rowed with muffled oars to the appointed landing-place, where their friends awaited them.

Long before they reached it the whole sky was in a glow, and they even caught glimpses of hurrying throngs of people, all hastening to the scene of the conflagration. That the whole town was in an uproar of confusion they could tell even from a long distance. And Jack sang aloud and cheered lustily in the joy and triumph of his heart.

But a greater triumph was in store for the comrades when they finally reached shore, and were brought by their companions into the lines once more.

The stratagem had been completely successful; the people had all rushed down to the scene of the fire, even the soldiers quitting their posts to assist. De Montfort, with a picked body of men, had made a grand assault where the walls near to the gate had become greatly weakened. Wall and gate had alike given way with a crash, and the besieging army had streamed in in triumph. Rochester had fallen into the hands of the Barons!