The march of a feudal army of that day was a beautiful thing to see. Although a part of the splendour which it afterwards assumed, when the surcoats of the knights were embroidered with their arms, was not yet displayed, still those arms were emblazoned upon the banners and on the shields, still the richest colours that the looms of France, Italy, and England could supply, were to be found in the housings of the horses, and in the pourpoints and coats of the knights, and in the beautiful scarfs, called cointises, then lately introduced, which, passing over the right shoulder and under the left arm, fluttered like many tinted streamers in the air, with every breath of wind.
Yes, it was a beautiful sight to see; and wisely does the rugged front of war deck itself with every brilliant accessory, to hide the dark and murderous look which would otherwise scare the hearts of men.
It was a beautiful sight; and as Hugh de Monthermer detached with a body of horse-archers and men-at-arms from the main army to reconnoitre the neighbouring country--stood for a moment on a little hill, looking down the lovely vale of Evesham, and watched the host of De Montfort winding on its way from Kemestow, probably a more magnificent scene never met the eyes of man.
Sunshine, the bright sunshine of a summer's day, was over the whole, mingling the ingredient of its own loveliness with every fair thing in the landscape. Still, now and then, over the brilliant blue sky floated a light cloud, like a flying island, casting here and there a deep shadow, which hurried speedily onward, leaving all shining behind it--like those fits of gentle pensiveness which come at times even upon the happiest spirit, scarcely to be called melancholy, but seeming as if a shade from something above us flitted over our minds for a moment, and then left them to the sunshine and the light.
On one hand, rising tall and blue, was the beautiful range of Malvern, with many a lesser hill springing out from the base, wooded to the top, and often crowned with an embattled tower. On the other side were the high grounds running down in the direction of Sudleigh, covered with magnificent trees, and bearing up innumerable castles, while here and there the spire of a church peeped out, or the pinnacles of an abbey. In the wide expanse between the two were seen the rich slopes, the green meadows, the corn-bearing fields, the long lines of forest that still distinguish the lovely vale of Evesham, with tower, town, and hamlet, brook and river, offering a confusion of beautiful forms and splendid colouring; and, in the midst of this, marched on the army of De Montfort, with banners displayed and pennons fluttering in the wind.
First came the slingers with their staves and leathern bands, and then the light foot pikemen, armed with the shorter spears and oucins. The former were totally without defensive armour, and the latter were only protected by a pectoral, or breastplate of steel scales hanging from the neck, and a round steel buckler on the arm. All was confusion amongst them, as they ran on, preceding the rest of the army, somewhat in the manner of modern skirmishers, only with less discipline and skill. But immediately following these appeared the first regular troops, consisting of various bands of heavy armed spearmen, with much longer lances than the former, and defended by the steel cap, or chapel de fer, the long oval shields, and thickly-stuffed hauqueton, so stiff and hard as to resist the blow of sword or dagger.
Some of these bands, according to the taste or the means of their leader, were furnished with the same pectorals of scales that were borne by the lighter spearmen; while some had short hauberks of steel rings, set edgewise--and some were unprovided with any other armour for the body than the hauqueton of which we have already spoken. Marching, however, in regular order, with their spears leaning on their shoulders, and their steel caps glistening in the sun, they presented a fine martial appearance, and were, in fact, a very formidable body to attack.
After the pikemen came the bands of archers, the pride of the English army. In general they were covered with the hauberk and the steel cap of the times, but--upon what account it is difficult to be discovered--each wore above his armour a sort of leathern cuirass, ornamented with four round plates of iron. Their arrows were in a belt at their waist, their bows unbent in their hands, while each man had his anelace, or short dagger, hanging from his neck by a cord, and many of the bands were also, furnished with a strong broad sword of about two feet in length.
Little difference existed in the equipment of the crossbowmen, who in the army of De Montfort were not very numerous, as the arbalist was a foreign arm; for his being more especially the English party, care was taken to avoid everything that had not some touch of the national character about it.
Bodies of horse-archers followed, and then came the long line of men-at-arms, marching four abreast, with their polished harness reflecting every ray, but presenting a very different appearance from that of the cavalry at an after period, when plate armour had been introduced. At this time each ring of their mail caught the light, and sent the rays glancing to the eyes of the beholder, at a different angle from the one next to it, so that a more sparkling object could scarcely be seen than the new hauberk of a knight in the middle of the thirteenth century. Great pride, too, was taken by each soldier in keeping his arms bright and highly polished; and though many of the leaders wore a rich surcoat without sleeves, yet others took a pride in displaying their full panoply. Certainly a more splendid sight has rarely been witnessed than the long line of De Montfort's cavalry winding onward through the beautiful vale of Evesham.
Ever and anon, too, the light summer wind brought to the ears of Hugh de Monthermer the stirring blast of the trumpet, and the loud shouted word of command; and as he gaged and listened, his high chivalrous soul seemed to swell within him, and he longed to break a lance or wield a sword against the most renowned champion that Europe could produce.
Riding onward at the head of his men, through the by-ways by which he had been directed to advance upon Evesham, visions of glory, and of honour, and of knightly fame, swam before his eyes, chasing away, for the first time, a dark train of melancholy images which had possessed him ever since the father of her he loved had gone over to the enemy. It was not, indeed, that the hope of winning renown could banish the memory of Lucy de Ashby, but in those days the passion for glory was so intimately mingled with the thoughts of love, that they never could be separated from each other. To know that she would hear of his deeds of arms--to know that her bosom would thrill at the tidings--to know that her heart would go with him to the battlefield, and that she would watch and listen for every tale and every history concerning the scenes in which he was now mingling, was a solace and a comfort to him. Glorious actions were one of the ways of wooing in chivalrous times, and but too often the only way to which the true-hearted lover could have recourse. Such indeed was now the situation of Hugh de Monthermer himself, and such, he knew, would, in all probability, be his state for many years, unless some of the great accidents of war brought to a speedy extinction the flame which was just kindled in the country.
Thus the desire of military glory was the twin sister of his love for Lucy de Ashby, and at that moment, when the splendid pageantry of the marching army passed before his eyes, and the inspiring blast of the trumpet reached his ear, he would gladly have defied the most renowned champion in all Europe for honour and the lady that he loved.
The host moved on, however, and, after gazing for a minute or two, Hugh once more pursued his course, eagerly examining from every little eminence in the plain the whole country around him, to see if friend or foe was near, in arms, to the forces of De Montfort. But nothing appeared--all was calm and tranquil. There was the village girl tripping away through the fields, the long ears of corn almost reaching to her head; there was the labourer reaping the barley of a rich and early season; there was the wagoner guiding his team along the road; there was the herd driving his cattle into the shade; but the only martial thing that struck the eye was the glancing of De Montfort's spears, as they wound onward at the distance of about a mile.
It was towards evening, and the host of the Earl was entering the little town of Evesham, about two miles from the spot at which Hugh de Monthermer had by this time arrived, when an object attracted his attention in a small wood at some short distance. The declining sun shone upon something glistening under the trees. It might be a ploughshare, the young knight thought; but a moment after, another gleam came from a different part of the copse, and he instantly turned his horse's head thither, advancing cautiously along a narrow lane, with some archers thrown out in the fields on either side.
After having gone on for about ten minutes, a living creature, creeping along under the hedge, was observed both by the young lord and the persons immediately behind him, but in the dimness of the shade they could not discover what it was.
"'Tis a dog," said Tom Blawket, who was in the first rank behind his leader.
"Or a wolf," remarked another man near.
"'Tis more like a bear," observed a third, "and it goes like a bear."
"Pooh! you are always thinking of the Holy Land," rejoined Blawket; "we have no bears here but bears upon two legs."
At that moment Hugh spurred on his horse, and raising his voice, shouted aloud, "Tangel, Tangel, is that you?"
The dwarf started upon his feet, for he was creeping along with wonderful swiftness upon his hands and knees; and, turning round at the well known sound of the young lord's call, he darted towards him with various wild and extravagant gestures.
"They are here," he cried--"they are here; Robin and Ralph and all, and right glad will they be to see you, for we have had a sore time of it these last four days. They thought it was the Prince's army again, and sent me out of the wood to discover."
"Right glad shall we be to meet them, too," replied Hugh; "for though we are strong enough, I trust, and shall soon be stronger, yet a reinforcement of seven or eight hundred gallant men can never come amiss."
"Not so many as that, good knight--not so many as that!" cried the dwarf. "Some of the Yorkshire churls were afraid to come by the road we took, and went round by Stafford--the rascals that Leighton raised, and Shergold of the bower. Thus there are but Robin and Ralph Harland, and two hundred and fifty barely counted; but they are good men and true, who will send you an arrow through the key-hole of Mumbury church-door, or beat the sheriff's constable into the shape of a horseshoe."
"They shall be welcome--they shall be welcome!" said Hugh; "and as for the others, the man who has ever felt a doubt or fear in a good cause, had better not bring his faint heart to spread the mildew through a gallant army."
When the young knight, however, met his yeoman friends, under the first trees of the little wood, he found the bearing of bold Robin Hood somewhat more serious than it was wont to be.
"What is the matter, Robin?" he asked, after they had greeted each other kindly.
"I know not, my lord," replied the forester; "but wild rumours have reached us in the course of the day, of a battle fought and De Montfort routed."
Hugh de Monthermer laughed. "Nay, Robin," he said, "from that little hill you may see even now the last troops of the great Earl's gallant force marching into Evesham without a plume shorn from a crest, without banner torn, or a surcoat rent."
"That is good news, my lord," answered Robin Hood, "that is good news." But still he looked grave, and added, "the tidings came from the Warwick side, and I love not such rumours, whether they show what men fear, or what men hope."
"From the Warwick side!" said Hugh, musing in turn. "My Lord of Leicester must hear this. Come, Robin--come, Ralph, let us quickly on to Evesham. My uncle's men keep good quarters for me and mine, and I will share them with you for to-night. Have you no horses?"
"No, my lord," replied Ralph; "we have marched with our people afoot. I have here a hundred good spears, and Robin some seven score archers. If you go on with your mounted men, we will soon follow, now that we know there are friends before us. For the last four days we have slept in the fields and woods; for the marchings and countermarchings of Prince Edward have more than once brought us nearly into a net. Go on--go on, my lord, and we will follow you."
Hugh de Monthermer did not hesitate to do so; for he was well aware that at such a critical moment the least intelligence might be of importance to De Montfort. The moment he reached Evesham he left his men under the command of one of the principal followers of his house, and proceeded through the thronged confusion of the streets to seek the head-quarters of the Earl of Leicester. He found him at the abbey surrounded by a number of officers, and leading the King, with every appearance of deference and profound respect, to the apartment which had been prepared for him. This being done, and the usual measures having been taken to guard against the monarch's escape, the Earl turned to go back to the refectory.
The moment his eye fell upon Hugh, De Montfort beckoned him to follow; and, in the large dining hall of the monks, called him into one of the deep windows, saying, "You have some news for me, I see. What is it?"
Hugh related to him his meeting with their friends, and mentioned the rumours they had heard, which brought a sudden gloom on De Montfort's brow.
"Ah!" he exclaimed; "from Warwick did he say the news had come?"
"From the side of Warwick, my lord," replied Hugh.
"By St. James, that were bad tidings, if true!" continued the Earl; "but it cannot be! I had letters from my son, last night. No, no; all is well. He had watched for Edward," he said, "but the Prince had not come.--Thanks, thanks, my young friend!--these good yeomen arrive most seasonably. See that they be well lodged and fed. Take care of your own people too; for, although the King told your uncle just now that he looked upon him as the worst enemy he had, I regard him as one of the best subjects in the land. So good night for the present, we must be early in the saddle to-morrow."
