Chapter XXIII: On the Field of Lewes

They stood looking down upon the green plains and the venerable Priory of Lewes. The cup-like hollow presented a strange appearance, being dotted over with tents, and filled with armed men, moving hither and thither like human ants, intent upon some important task. Within the walls of the Priory the King was lodged, with his brother, his son, and his counsellors.

The little knot of youths, stationed upon the knoll that commanded a view of these things, had their eyes fixed upon a small party of riders who were moving forward towards the Priory, carrying a white flag before them.

A nearer view would have told an observer that two of this party were ecclesiastics in their robes of office, being in fact none other than the Bishops of London and Worcester; but those spectators on the knoll did not need the evidence of eyesight to tell them that. They were well aware of the embassy of the Bishops, and of the import of the message they bore.

"If that fails to bring his Majesty to his senses," said Amalric gravely, "nothing can avert a bloody battle."

"I would we might settle the matter by force of arms!" cried Jack, whose blood was up, and who was eager for the ordeal of battle. "Even if the King doth make promises, who knows if he will keep them? I am sick of parley. I want the sword to be loosed from the scabbard. The King has wrought desolation and ruin wherever he has gone. It is time that he tasted that which he has inflicted."

Jack spoke with eager impetuosity, which seemed suited to the martial aspect of his strong, well-knit figure. He had gone up in the world since his escapade with the fire-ship. He had now a fine charger of his own, and a suit of mail. He was ranked as one of Amalric's esquires, and was a favourite even with the Earl himself, who spoke kindly to him whenever they met.

London had of late been the headquarters of the Barons' army, whilst the royalists had been marching hither and thither over the country, "accompanied," as the chronicler of the time described it, "by three comrades--plunder, fire, and slaughter. There was no peace in the land; everything was destroyed by sword, fire, rapine, and robbery; everywhere was clamour and trembling and woe."

It was a state of things which could not continue, and the hearts of the nation turned to the Earl as to a deliverer who alone could save them from such misery. The men of London were with him heart and soul, and had furnished him with a contingent fifteen thousand strong, with which to meet and overcome the tyrant. But still De Montfort hesitated to draw the sword in open battle against his sovereign; and even now, at the eleventh hour, when the two armies had mustered about the field of Lewes, he had sent two Bishops of known probity and piety, to endeavour to bring the King to reason before the last appeal to arms was made.

"What said the letter of the Earls?" asked Jack eagerly of Leofric, who as a ready scribe was often employed in such matters as these. "Thou wert closeted long with them last night. What did they say that hath not been said a hundred times ere now?"

Leofric drew from his tunic certain fragments of parchment, closely written, which he scanned several times over, and then made reply to Jack's question.

"The Earls of Leicester and Gloucester did but repeat for themselves and their party what has been said a hundred times before--namely, that they desired peace, and to serve the King faithfully, and only to put down the enemies of the realm, who deceive both his Majesty and the Prince, and do despite to the realm. They offered to pay a large sum as compensation for hurt done to the King's property, if he would make peace and observe the Provisions of Oxford, and submit to the decision of 'certain chosen Churchmen' what statutes ought to be observed, and how far the oaths taken ought to be binding, saying that they wished to keep their faith as Christians, and avoid the stain of perjury."

Long and eagerly did the comrades upon the hillside talk together, wondering whether this embassy of the Bishops would succeed where other things had failed, or whether the King, blinded by pride and advised by evil counsellors, would press matters on to the bitter end. They could observe the signs of commotion below, round and about the Priory, and finally they watched the great gates being flung wide open to admit of the exit of the ambassadors.

"What news will they bring--what news?" cried Amalric breathlessly, and he turned and hastened towards his father's quarters, mounting his horse, which stood tethered a little way off, and galloping away without waiting for his companions.

Leofric had paused when about to follow, for his eye had been caught by an advancing figure that looked somehow familiar, and which seemed making straight for them upon the knoll. Just as Amalric rode off, Jack broke into a quick exclamation,--

"By my troth, here is our quondam companion Hugh!"

The next moment Hugh le Barbier stood beside them, grasping their hands and looking with eager affection into their faces.

Although he came from the hostile camp, there was no hostility in the hearts of the Oxford students as they stood together once more. Eagerly did Hugh ask of their welfare, eagerly did they question him as to his adventures during the past months, and, above all, most eagerly did they ask him if he knew what sort of answer the King had returned to the messengers just sent, and whether there was any chance of a cessation of hostilities.

Hugh gravely shook his head.

"His Majesty is greatly incensed against the Barons. He would scarce listen with patience whilst the letter was being read. Had it been brought by others than Bishops, I fear me he would not even have heard it. His brother sat beside him, and in scorn he declared that he alone claimed the full sum offered by the Barons, as indemnity against his own personal losses. He and the Prince were equally indignant with the King; and whilst his Majesty dictated the terms of a wrathful letter in which he defies the Earls, and throws back their allegiance and their oaths of fidelity in their teeth, the Prince and his uncle together wrote another letter even more haughty and insulting than the one composed by the King, calling the Earls of Leicester and Gloucester 'faithless traitors,' and I know not what besides, and hurling defiance at them in a fashion than can but lead to one end. There will be no avoiding a battle now!"

Jack's eyes lighted with triumph, but Hugh spoke sorrowfully. He loved the Prince, and he felt bound to the royal standard by his duty as a subject. But the cause was not dear to his heart. Henry was not a monarch to inspire either confidence or love, and his embracing the cause of his foreign favourites--against whom this movement was really directed--and telling his own English Barons that any opposition to them was opposition to him, and that their quarrel was his, rendered him but a pitiful creature in the eyes even of those who desired to serve him loyally and well. None could stand near the royal presence without being continually galled and chafed by seeing aliens and sycophants preferred to honest and noble subjects of the realm. Hugh had had a fair insight of late into the methods of the King, and his heart was somewhat heavy within him at the thought of what must lie before the kingdom if the issues of the day should be favourable to the royal cause.

"If only the Prince were King!" he breathed. "He is hot and rash now, stirred up to filial emulation in his father's cause; but his heart is true and his judgment sound. Were he to be at the head of the state, we should not have to groan as we are groaning now."

And then turning suddenly away to another subject, he asked news of Linda, where and how his comrades had seen her last, and if she were still safe in the care of the Constable.

"Yes, and like a sister to Mistress Alys," answered Leofric. "I trow she is safe from any threatened peril there. But we have heard and seen naught of her foes since they were driven forth from the city by the Chancellor. I misdoubt me if they will ever seek to return."

"And Lotta--is aught known of her?" asked Hugh.

"She dwells with her parents yet," answered Leofric. "I seldom see her; but Gilbert Barbeck tells me sometimes of her. She refused to visit Linda in the Castle, and spoke fierce words which show that her heart is yet bitter within her. But more than that I know not. She was always a strange creature. Her own mother knows not how to deal with her."

"Some say she hath a familiar spirit, and some that she is mad, which perhaps is one and the same thing," said Jack. "All I know is that she looks at you with eyes that burn like live coals. Methinks she has been dabbling with Tito's evil books. If she takes not care, she may be ducked or burnt as a witch yet!"

But this was scarce time or place to dwell on private topics. Little doubt could now exist that they were on the eve of a great battle. Hugh looked regretfully into Leofric's eyes as they clasped hands before parting.

"I would we could fight side by side, instead of in hostile camps," he said; "but when this cloud of evil and misery has swept by, I trust that we may be comrades once again, in Oxford or elsewhere."

"To be sure! to be sure!" cried cheery Jack. "Let once the King be brought to reason, and all those vile foreigners sent back to their own country, and our good Earl (foreigner though he be in race, yet not at heart) at the head of his Council, then we shall forget our troubles and feuds, and all will go merry as a marriage-bell."

Yet for the moment there was nothing of merriment in the hearts of men, but a stern nerving of themselves for coming strife.

Leofric and Jack were met by the news that the King had received the embassy with coldness and hostility, and had sent back an answer so insulting and uncompromising that nothing was now thought of but the appeal to arms.

Leofric, going in search of Amalric, found himself in the midst of an earnest gathering of knights and nobles, and heard the clarion voice of De Montfort raised in solemn protest.

"By the arm of St. James, I have done all that man can do to keep the peace of the realm and my oath of allegiance. Be the result of this day's work upon the head of his Majesty! He has brought all upon himself. I would have saved him from it if I could."

The Earl had had a presentiment, of which he had spoken before, that May was to be a fortunate month for him, and an unlucky one for the King. He went about amongst his people now with a look of serene courage upon his face; and whilst stimulating them to do their best in the coming fight, he urged them not to forget that their foes were also their brothers, and that they must show mercy to the vanquished in the day of victory.

A sense of great seriousness and earnestness prevailed in the ranks of the Barons. They trusted their cause to the God of battles, assured of its righteousness, and inspired by a religious as well as a patriotic zeal. Many friars were with them, encouraging them by their presence, and filling their hearts with fervent and pious thoughts. The soldiers regarded their cause as a holy crusade against tyranny and slavery, and in token of this feeling they fastened upon their arms a white cross, as an outward mark of their faith. In a battle with their own countrymen some such sign might be needed to distinguish friend from foe. A stern enthusiasm filled all hearts, and the confidence of the soldiers in their leader was unfaltering.

De Montfort had won great renown as a soldier in Gascony, and his troops had implicit faith in his powers. Moreover he set them an example even in faith and piety; for upon the eve of the battle he spent the night in prayer, whilst the Bishop of Worcester--one of the emissaries to the King, and himself a notable patriot, Walter de Cantilupe by name--rode through the ranks, and urged the men to confess their sins and receive absolution, that they might ride forth upon the morrow in the full assurance that the power of God was with them.

Early upon the morning of the fourteenth of May, before the sun had risen, the army of the Earl set itself in battle array, and prepared for the march. In sight of all his men De Montfort bestowed the honour of knighthood upon his brother-in-arms and brother Earl the young Earl Gilbert of Gloucester, and two others; after which, with brave hearts and cheery faces, the men marched in capital order towards that very crest of rising ground from which a few days before Leofric and Jack had looked down upon the town and Priory of Lewes, when the Bishops had gone forth with their embassy.

Since his accident in the winter, the Earl of Leicester had not been able to ride as much as formerly, and he had a litter in which he was carried. In that he travelled as far as this halting-place, although he was to mount his charger during the battle. His litter would, however, be kept in readiness upon the field, in the event of his requiring it; and it was to remain beside the standard upon which his arms waved proudly. For the nonce, instead of himself or any of his own followers occupying it, there were placed inside for security those four traitors of London who had once plotted his destruction, and who had been hostages in his hands ever since. These men, bound, were placed in the litter when it was vacated by De Montfort in favour of the charger now led up for him to mount.

But before doing so, the Earl turned to his soldiers, and addressed them in his clear, ringing tones,--

"Beloved comrades and followers, we are about to enter upon battle to-day in behalf of the Government of the kingdom, to the honour of God and of our mother Church, and moreover for the maintenance of our faith. Let us pray for grace and vigour, that we may overpower the malice of our enemy. Since we are His, to Him we commend our bodies and souls." With these words he fell upon the ground, stretching out his arms in the form of a cross, all his soldiers following his example, whilst the Bishops cried aloud,--

"Grant us, O Lord, our desire of a glorious victory, to the honour of Thy name."

Then the battle was set in order, and Leofric and Jack found themselves placed in the right wing, which was to be led by Henry de Montfort, with Guy and Amalric as his assistants. The centre was under the command of the newly-made knight, Gilbert of Gloucester, who was to show his valour to-day. The left wing was composed mainly of the Londoners, many of whom had never seen war. They were commanded by three young nobles of known courage. As for De Montfort himself, he took up a position where he could watch the progress of the fight, and give help to that portion of the army which seemed most to require it.

The situation was a good one, on rising ground; and the tents and baggage were piled on the crest of the hill, where the banner of De Montfort floated by the side of his vacated litter.

They had marched rapidly, in order to surprise the King's party; but warning had reached them, and already there was a great stirring in the hollow, which was alive with bands of soldiers being drafted into position.

Jack looked down with kindling eyes and flushed cheeks, and almost immediately a strange sort of roar began to run through the ranks. The cause of this excitement appeared to be the banner which had just been unfurled in the royalist ranks.

"The red dragon! the red dragon!"

Leofric and Jack looked wonderingly at each other.

"What mean they by that? What is the red dragon?" they asked. And Amalric, looking over his shoulder with a stern, set face, made reply,--

"When the ensign of the red dragon is unfurled in the ranks of the King, it is the sign that no quarter is to be given. We are to be slaughtered like sheep in the shambles if it pleases Heaven to give our foes the victory."

At the sound of those words a strange murmur ran through the ranks. Men gripped their sword-hilts hard, and set their teeth with a sense of iron resolution, and an indignation which would go far to win the day.

The field was in motion. The quick eyes of those posted upon the hillsides saw that the royalists had begun to move. Prince Edward on the right, was bearing vehemently upon their left wing, which consisted of the London levies. The Prince had been bitterly angry with the men of London ever since they had stoned and insulted his mothers barge, as she tried to escape by water from the Tower, but was driven ignominiously back by the citizens, who hated her for her many extortionate charges upon the city. Now he was rushing furiously against his foes, who wavered before the charge of trained horsemen. But no more of that could Leofric and Jack see, for at this moment their own ranks were called upon to move forward, and, behold, the battle had begun!

The King's brother, Richard of Cornwall, King of the Romans, was leading his forces against them. In another moment the rival armies had met with a crash of arms. There was a stifling sense of pressure, and then a recoil; whilst over the heads of their own men came hurtling showers of stones cast from above at their assailants, and soon the closely-serried ranks both of friends and foes were a little broken and scattered, whilst man met man and horse charged horse in the indescribable _mêlée_ of a hand-to-hand battle.

Side by side, shoulder to shoulder, rode Amalric, Leofric, and Jack. They felt rather than saw the recoil of their foes, who at first had been pressing upon them with such fiery vehemence. Charging down the hill, they met the answering charge of mail-clad warriors; but the slope of the field was in their favour, and they hewed them down and routed them, despite the fiery resistance they met.

They were down upon the level now, and before them stood the serried ranks of the centre of their foes' army behind which floated the red dragon, marking the spot where the King himself was posted.

But from behind, the ranks of the young De Montforts had been reinforced by the contingent commanded by the Earl himself, and the knowledge that their great leader was with them and amongst them seemed to turn to steel the muscles of the soldiers, and with shouts and cries of fury and anticipated triumph they hurled themselves again and again against these opposing warriors, till at last they felt the solid wall give way before them, and with a yell that rent the firmament they dashed into the breach.

"For God and Earl Simon! for God and Earl Simon!" was the cry upon the lips and in the hearts of the soldiers as they felt the breaking up of their royalist foes.

Leofric had been fighting might and main, blindly sometimes, and breathlessly, yet with a skill and fury which surprised even himself. Suddenly he began to feel everything swimming around him. He had been conscious of no wound, but he saw that his blood was flowing fast. If he fell in the midst of this _mêlée_, he must surely be trodden to death in a moment. But he was becoming so faint that he scarce cared what became of him, when he suddenly felt an arm cast about him, and heard a voice say in his ear,--

"Hold up, good comrade, hold up! I will get thee out of this. The victory is won! The King is wounded and in full flight! We may quit the battlefield with glory now. The day is ours!"

An hour or two later Leofric opened his eyes to find himself lying in a tent, amid a number of other wounded men, the honest face of Jack bending over him with kindly solicitude and concern.

"How goes the day?" he asked, as soon as he could find voice; and Jack's face beamed all over as he replied,--

"Why, right gloriously! The King's forces are routed. He has taken shelter in the Priory. The King of the Romans has shut himself up in a windmill, whence he has been besieged by our men, who will shortly have him out--treacherous Richard, as all call him, who once called himself the Barons' friend. I trow there be no man in all the kingdom more hated than he!"

"And the Prince?" asked Leofric, striving to sit up in his excitement, but finding himself exceeding weak.

"Why, the Prince might have made things worse for us, had he been as wise as he is brave. He routed the London wing, but pursued them so furiously and so far that whilst he was slaying and hacking the fortunes of the day went against his father. Then on his return, ere he knew this, he set his men against the litter which stood beside the standard, and where he thought to find our great Earl seated. His men came furiously up the crest of the hill, and surrounding the litter began to cry out, 'Come forth, come forth, Simon, thou evil one; come forth from that litter, thou worst of traitors!' And at last, getting no response, they broke open the litter, and in the confusion which followed, all the four hostages, men of their own party, were hacked to death by their own friends!"

"Poor creatures!" said Leofric, with compassion; "that was a gruesome fate. But what did the Prince next?"

"He made a circuit to get to his own side of the plain once more, and only a while back was about to make a sally; but the Earl sent proposals for a truce, and these were accepted: for indeed what could even so brave a Prince do, with a band of men exhausted by fighting and marching, and dispirited to the verge of despair by the knowledge that the cause was lost?"

"Hast thou seen aught of Hugh?" asked Leofric; but Jack shook his head. He had had his hands full in helping first his own wounded comrade, and afterwards those who lay stretched upon the field of victory. He had been working and toiling from dawn till now--marching, fighting, and carrying in the wounded. He had had no thoughts to spare for any but his own side.

A shout of laughter, and the tramp of many feet, announced that something fresh had happened. There was a great tumult of sound, and Jack darted out to see what was happening.

He came back with his face bubbling over with mirth.

"They are bringing in Richard, treacherous Richard, the King of the Romans," he cried--"he who, in his letter but the other day, called himself 'always august,' They are calling him a bad miller, and twitting him with his august windmill! Oh, thou shouldest see his face! He looks like a dozen thunder-clouds all rolled into one!"

A great burst of cheering from some place hard by told that the prisoner had been brought to Earl Simon's tent; and with the failure of the light came the knowledge that the battle was fought and won. The field of Lewes had decided the fate of the country for the present. The Barons had achieved an undoubted victory.