The House of Walderne Part 46

Now let us turn to the left. On the crest of the hill, which there rose steeply, were the tents and baggage of the barons. Over one of these floated Earl Simon's banner, and close by was a litter in which he had been carried during a recent illness, but which now only contained four unfortunate burgesses of London town who were detained as hostages because they had attempted to betray the city to King Henry.

Towards this height the foolish Richard directed his charge, fully believing that the head and front of all the mischief, Simon himself, was in that litter, and that he should crush him and the rebellion together. But such showers of stones and arrows came from the hill that his forces were disorganised, and when Earl Simon suddenly strengthened his sons by the reserve, their united forces crushed the King of the Romans and all his men. They descended with all the impetus of a charge from above, and the enemy fled.

Then the earl might have made the mistake which Prince Edward made on the opposite side, and followed the flying foe; but he was far too wise. He saw on his left the centre under the Earl of Gloucester, fighting valiantly on equal terms with the royal centre under King Henry. He fell upon its flank with all the force of his victorious array: one deadly struggle and the royal lines bent, curved, broke, then fled in disorder, the old king galloping furiously towards the priory, fleeing in great fear for dear life.

Yet more ludicrous was the fate of his brother Richard, King of the Romans, who, while Henry reached the priory wounded, had taken refuge in the windmill, where he was being baited, almost in joke, by the victorious foes, amidst cries of:

"Come out you bad miller!"

"You to turn a wretched mill master!"

"You who defied us all so proudly!"

"You, the 'ever Augustus!"

At length the poor badgered king, seeing that they were preparing to set the mill on fire and smoke him out, surrendered to a follower of the Earl of Gloucester, Sir John Bix, and came out all covered with flour, while men sang:

The King of the Romans gathered a host, And made him a castle of a mill post.

Meanwhile the camp on the hill, with the banner and the aforesaid litter, had aroused the attention of Prince Edward, just returning from harrying the Londoners.

"Up the hill, my men," he said. "There is the very devil himself in that litter."

The camp was stoutly defended, but after a while the defenders were forced to fly by superior force. Then the prince's men rushed upon the litter, Drogo of Walderne foremost. They thought they had got the great earl.

"Come out, Simon, thou devil, thou worst of traitors," they cried.

Within were only the four shrinking, timid burgesses, and Drogo and his band dragged them out, shrieking in vain that they were for the king, and cut them to pieces, poor unfortunates. But they did not find Earl Simon, and only slew their own friends; and when the confusion was over they looked down upon the battlefield, where one glance showed them that the main battle was lost, and the barons in possession of the field.

In vain Edward besought his men, now much reduced in numbers, to make another charge. They saw the enemy waiting with levelled lances to receive them, and felt that the position they were asked to a.s.sail was impregnable.

Edward was a most affectionate son, and was very anxious to learn the fate of his royal father, so he determined to force his way to the priory at all hazards, and made a circuit of the town so as to reach the sacred pile from the una.s.sailed quarter. Night was now approaching, and the prince's party had to fight their way at every step with the victorious hors.e.m.e.n of the barons. Edward's giant strength and long sweeping sword made him a way over heaps of corpses strewn before him, but others were less fortunate.

Hard by the river, on the eastern side of the town, and beneath the high cliffs which rise almost precipitously to the isolated group of downs, there was a terrible charge, a hand-to-hand melee. Drogo of Walderne and HarenG.o.d, his sword red with blood, his lance couched, was confronted here by a knight in sable armour, his sole cognisance--the White Cross.

They rode at each other. Drogo's lance grazed his opponent's casque: the unknown knight drove his missile through corselet and breast, and Drogo went down cras.h.i.+ng from his steed. The combat went sweeping on past them, the desperate foes fighting as they rode. Edward and his hors.e.m.e.n, less and less in number each minute, still riding for the priory, straining every nerve to reach it; the others a.s.sailing them at every turn.

The Earl of Warrenne, William of Valence, Guy of Lusignan, and Earl BiG.o.d of Norwich, were separated from the rest of the band, and, despairing of attaining the prince again, rode across the low alluvial flats for Pevensey.

By G.o.d, who is over us, much did they sin, That let pa.s.s o'er sea the Earl of Warrene, Much hath he robbed us, by moor and by fen, Our gold and our silver he carried hath henne {35};

Sang the citizens of Lewes afterwards of black Earl John.

Let us return in the shadows of the evening, while the prince gains the priory with a few of his followers, by sheer valour, while the rest are drowned in the river, or lost in the marshes--let us return to the place where Drogo de HarenG.o.d went down before an unknown foe.

"Dost thou know me?" said the conqueror, bending over the dying man and raising his helm.

"Art thou alive, or a ghost?" says a conscience-stricken voice.

"Nay, I am Hubert of Walderne, the cousin thou hast hated and injured. But our quarrel is settled now; thou art a dying man."

"Nay, not dying. I must live to repent.

"Oh, the key! the key! Throw this key into the moat!

"Nay, he will haunt me. Tell me, am I really dying? Nay, if it cost me my soul, I will not baulk my vengeance. Besides, it is too late!

"Martin!"

A rush of blood came to his lips, and Drogo of HarenG.o.d fell back a corpse on the blood-stained gra.s.s. Hubert gazed upon him a moment, then loosed the armour to give him air, but it was all over.

"G.o.d rest his soul. Our enmity is over, but what did he mean about the key?"

He felt in the gypsire of the dead enemy. There was a key, unsightly, rusty, and heavy.

"Why, I remember this key. It is the key of the dungeon at Walderne. Whom can he have got there? Why is it here? What did he mean about Martin?"

A horrible dread seized him--he could not resist the impulse which came upon him to ride to Walderne at once. He sought Earl Simon, obtained a troop, and started immediately through the dark and gloomy forest for Walderne.

Chapter 26: After The Battle.

We trust our readers are anxious to learn the fate of Martin, whom, much against our will, we left in such grievous durance at Walderne Castle.

Drogo had only left a score of men behind him to defend the castle in case of any sudden a.s.sault; which, however, he did not expect.

Before leaving he had called one of these aside, a fellow whose name was Marboeuf.

"Marboeuf," he said, 'I know thou hast the two elements which, between ourselves, ensure the greatest happiness in this world--a good digestion and a hard heart."

"You compliment me, master."

"Nay, I know thy worth, and hence I leave all things in thy hands: my honour and my vengeance."

"Thy vengeance?"

"Yes. If I live I shall expect to find all as I left it when I return hither. If I die, and thou receivest sure news of my death, slay me the three prisoners."

"What! The friar and all!"

"Is his blood redder than any other man's? It seems to me thou art afraid of the Pope's gray regiment."

"Nay, I like not to slay priests and friars. It brings a man ill luck if he meddle with those."

"Then I must appoint Thibault. He may have an easier conscience, but I had thought that bloodshed, if nothing else, had bound us together."

"Nay, it shall not be said that I forsook my lord in his need. If thou fallest in the coming battle, I will sacrifice the three to thy ghost."