Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
spite of charge after charge, made by Mortimer and others, maintained
their ground against the whole force of the Prince's right wing.
In other parts of the field, however, numbers were gradually prevailing
against all that courage and resolution, could do. The _mêlée_ had
begun in all its fierceness, knight fought with knight, man opposed
man, hurry and confusion were seen in all parts of the field, while the
clang of arms, the blasts of the trumpet, the shouts of the combatants,
the loud voice of the commanders, the galloping of horse, the groans of
the dying, and the screams of men receiving agonizing wounds, offered
to the ear of heaven a sound only fit for the darkest depth of hell.
Charge after charge was poured upon the left wing of De Montfort's
army; but Mortimer, Bigod, and the Earl of Pembroke, in vain led down
their horse against the gallant band of spearmen and archers. Each time
they approached, they were driven back, either by the fierce flights of
arrows, the long spears of Pontefract, or the encounter of the
men-at-arms.
Once only was the line, between the hedged field we have mentioned and
the hawthorn trees, shaken for an instant by overpowering numbers; and
then the old Earl of Monthermer, seeing his nephew's peril, galloped
down, at the head of a strong band of men-at-arms, and aided to repel
the enemy.
He paused one moment by his nephew's side ere he left him, saying; "It
will be very glorious, Hugh, if we can maintain our ground till night.
Farewell, my dear boy; do your devoir, and, if we never meet again on
earth, God bless you!"
"I beseech you, sir," replied Hugh, "take care of your own invaluable
life; remember, you are as much aimed at by the enmity of the
foreigners as even De Montfort."
"I will never fall alive into their hands," replied the old Earl, "but
I quit not this field, so long as there is light to wield the sword."
Thus saying, he rode away to a spot where the battle was thickening,
round the banner of De Montfort itself; and his presence there
apparently aided to restore the field; for, shortly after, the whole
force of Prince Edward withdrew for a short space, like a tiger that
has been disappointed of its spring, and hung wavering upon the edge of
the slope, as if collecting vigour for a new charge.
At the same time, the sky overhead, which, as I have before said, had
been threatening during the whole morning, grew darker and darker, so
as to be more like that of a gloomy November evening; than the decline
of a summer's day.
The pause which had taken place seemed a part of Edward's plan for
breaking the firm line of his adversary, as it was more than once
repeated during the battle; but it was never of long duration. The next
instant his trumpets blew the charge, and down came the thundering
cavalry, pouring at once upon every part of De Montfort's army. On the
Earl's side, too, after a rapid flight of arrows from the archers, the
men-at-arms advanced to meet the coming foe, and again the battle was
urged hand to hand.
It were vain to attempt a picture of the various deeds that were done
that day in different parts of the field, for seldom in the annals of
warfare has a combat taken place in which such acts of prowess and
stern determination were displayed on either part. Edward himself,
Mortimer, Gloucester, the Earl of Ashby and his son, Bigod, and
Valence, and a thousand others of noble birth and high renown fought,
both as generals and soldiers, with personal exertions and valour,
which could only be displayed in a chivalrous system of warfare; while
on the other, De Montfort, Monthermer, Le Despenser, Basset, St. John,
Beauchamp, De Ros, put forth energies almost superhuman to
counterbalance the disadvantage of numbers, and to wrest a victory from
the hand of fate.
In one place, Humphrey de Bohun was struck down by one of Edward's
men-at-arms; and a peasant with an oucin was preparing to dispatch him,
ere he could rise, when William de York came to his rescue, and slew
the foot soldier; but, even as De Bohun rose and regained his horse,
his deliverer was killed by a quarrel from a crossbow.
In another part, the King himself was assailed, and wounded by one of
his own son's followers, who had even shortened his lance to pin him to
the earth, as he lay prostrate before him, when throwing back his
aventaille, the monarch exclaimed, "Out upon thee, traitor.--I am Henry
of Winchester, thy king: Where is my son?"
As he spoke, a knight, taller, by a head, than any man around, and
clothed from the crown to the heel in linked mail, sprang to the ground
beside him, and thrusting the soldier fiercely back, raised the monarch
from the ground, exclaiming, "Mount, mount, my father, and away! Come
to the rear, and let your wound be searched.--Give me your horse's
rein.--You at least are free, and that is worth a victory."
The King sprang on his horse, and Edward led him by the bridle to the
rear of his own army.
Almost at the same moment, on the left of De Montfort's line, Alured de
Ashby and Hugh de Monthermer met in full career; the former charging
the well-known shield of Monthermer with animosity only the more
fierce, perhaps, because he knew that it was unjust; the latter meeting
him unwillingly, though compelled by circumstances to do his knightly
devoir. His very reluctance, however, made him more calm and thoughtful
than his fiery assailant; and, aiming his lance right at the crest of
his adversary, in order to cast him from his horse and make him
prisoner, rather than kill him, he galloped on with a wary eye. The
young lord of Ashby's spear, charged well and steadily, struck full
upon the shield of his opponent, pierced through the plate of steel and
touched the hauberk; but stopped there, without even shaking him in the
saddle, and broke off in splinters; while Monthermer's lance, catching
the steel casque just above the aventaille, hurled his adversary to the
ground, bruised, but unwounded.
Several of Monthermer's followers instantly ran up on foot to seize the
discomfited knight, and make him prisoner; but a charge of fresh troops
drove them back, and Alured de Ashby remounting his horse, rode away
with no light addition to his former hatred for Hugh de Monthermer.
The momentary retirement of Edward from the field now caused another of
those pauses in the battle, which have been already mentioned. His
forces once more withdrew for a short space, slowly and sullenly, the
archers on either side continuing to discharge their arrows, though
with but little effect. About the same time, a flash somewhat faint,
but blue and ghastly, came across the sky, and then the low muttering
of distant thunder.
"Ha!" said Robin Hood, who was standing by the side of Hugh de
Monthermer at the moment; "that trumpet will be but little attended to
to-day. Heaven's voice too rarely is."
"Too rarely, indeed!" replied Hugh. "Have you lost many men, Robin?"
"Well-nigh two score, I fear," answered Robin Hood. "Poor Brown was
rash, and ventured beyond the stakes with his little band of
Mansfield-men. They are all gone; but we have filled up the gap."
"Can you still maintain your post?" demanded Hugh.
"With God's will and the help of the blessed Virgin, we shall do very
well here," said Robin; "but I fear, my lord, for the centre and the
right. Look up there, just in the second line, where there are so many
gathering to one spot. Some great man is hurt there."
"My uncle was there a moment ago," exclaimed Hugh; "I fear it is he!"
"No, no, my lord!" replied an old knight of the house of Monthermer,
who was on his horse close by; "my lord, your uncle is safe. I have
seen him since the last charge, though he seems resolved to lose his
life."
"I do beseech you, Sir John Hardy," said Hugh, "if we lose the day,
look to my uncle, and force him from the battle, should it be needful."
"You stay on the field then, my lord, I suppose?" asked the old knight.
"I do," answered Hugh.
"Then, I stay too," replied Sir John Hardy.
"Nay, that is folly," cried Robin Hood. "Let each man fight so long as
fighting may avail; but when the day is clearly lost, the brave man,
who would spill his best blood to win it, then saves the life that God
gave him to do God service at another time. But, see--all the leaders
are gathering to that point! You had better go, my lord, and bring us
tidings. We will ensure the ground till your return."
"Command the troop then till I come back, Sir John," said Hugh, and
riding along the front of the line, under a shower of arrows from the
enemy, he approached the spot--where, sheltered from the sight
of the adversary's lines by a thick phalanx of foot spearsmen and
men-at-arms,--was collected a group of noblemen of the first rank,
seeming to hold a council round the royal standard, which was there
erected.
When Hugh came near, however, he saw that the occasion was a sadder
one. His uncle, the Lords of Mandeville, Basset, Crespigny, Beauchamp,
and Le Despenser, were standing dismounted round the famous Earl of
Leicester, who was stretched upon the ground, with his head and
shoulders supported by the knee and arm of a monk. Deep in his breast,
piercing through and through the steel hauberk, was buried the head of
a broken lance, and in his right was a cloth-yard arrow. He had just
concluded, what seemed his confession, in extremis; and the good man
was murmuring over him in haste the hurried absolution of the field of
battle. His countenance was pale; the dull shadow of death was upon it;
the lips were colourless and the nostrils widely expanded, as if it
caused an agonizing effort to draw his breath; but the eye was still
bright and clear, and--while the man of God repeated the last words--it
rolled thoughtfully over the faces of all around, resting with an
anxious gaze upon those with whom he was most familiar.
"Draw out the lance," he said, speaking to the surgeon of his
household, who stood near.
"If I do, my lord," replied the leech, "you cannot survive ten
minutes."
"That is long, enough," said de Montfort. "My boy Henry is gone; I saw
him fall, and I would not be much behind him. Draw it out, I say, I
cannot breathe and I must needs speak to my friends. Le Despenser; make
him draw it out; I shall have time enough for all I have to do."
Unwillingly, and not without a considerable effort, the surgeon tore
the head of the lance out of the wound; but, contrary to his
expectation; very little blood followed. The Earl bled inwardly.
He seemed to feel instant relief, however, saying--"Ah, that is
comfort! keep that steel, my friend, as the instrument that sent De
Montfort to heaven. Now mark me, lords and nobles," he continued, in a
firm voice--"mark me and never forget, that at his last hour, going to
meet his Saviour in judgment, De Montfort declares that those who
accuse him of ambition do belie him. I say now, as I have said ever,
that my every act and every thought have been for my country's good. I
may have been mistaken--doubtless, have been so often; but that my
intentions have been pure, I do most fervently call Heaven to witness.
So much for that; and now, my friends, I am fast leaving you. My sun,
like yonder orb, is setting rapidly: I for ever--he to rise again. He
may yet shine brightly on the cause I can no longer support, but it
must be upon another field, and upon another day. Preserve yourselves
for that time, my friends, I exhort, I beseech you! Basset, Monthermer,
Le Despeuser, this battle is lost; but you may yet, as night is coming,
effect your retreat in safety. It is no dishonour to quit a well-fought
but unequal field. Show, a firm face to the enemy; gather all our poor
soldiers together; retire as orderly as may be till night covers you,