The dryad a novel
brought Duke Baldwin and his friends in full view of the enemy and of
the destined battle-field.
Simon looked curiously at the stirring scene before him. A great space
of land lay between the Athenian forces and their enemies--a space
vividly green with young corn that flourished on the plain of Thebes
as on all the plains of Greece. On the other side of that spreading
area of soft shoots the men of the Catalan Grand Company were drawn
up in open array of battle, with the gaudy banner of the Duchess of
Thebes floating over their ranks side by side with their own flag and
the treasonable pennon of Epirus. Simon marvelled on looking to see
them waiting there so composedly for the formidable onslaught of the
Frankish chivalry. The bowmen were resting by their strung bows as
unconcernedly as if a holiday were toward, and the armored leaders
moved hither and thither leisurely among the ranks. It seemed as if
the following of Baldwin had but to spur only a few yards across the
soft, bright corn to brush these foemen out of existence. Nine hundred
of the finest knights in Greece, swathed in steel, rode with the Duke
of Athens and filled the summer air with their war-cries, eager to
sweep over the field and chastise the insolence of their contemptible
enemies. Behind them now tramped a well-equipped army on foot,
strongly armed, admirably marshalled, inured to war, and eager for the
engagement.
Simon was puzzled if no one else was. The odds against the Catalan
Grand Company showed tremendous, even when such reinforcements as were
afforded by the adherents of the Duchess of Thebes were taken into
account, while Demetrius of Epirus brought no more than his small
personal following and the cheap dishonor of his name. It looked as
if none might survive the skirmish to mount the gibbets which Duke
Baldwin so uncompromisingly promised to the rebels. Suddenly an idea
came into Simon's head, and he slapped his leg with satisfaction. That
is it, he said to himself, convinced that he had found an answer to
the problem that perplexed him. The dogs knew that they must die, one
way or another, by sword or by rope, and they meant to make a good end
of it, soldier-wise, and at bay. Something of pity stirred in his heart
for the stout fellows so soon to be butchered and waiting so soldierly
for the end. They were truculent ruffians, those Catalans, but at least
they knew how to play a losing game with courage and dignity. Another
little hour and how many of those bearded faces would show any hot
blood in the cheeks? The fortune of war, Simon reflected, composedly,
and settled himself in the saddle for the obliterating charge which he
guessed must soon be made, for Duke Baldwin had reined in his horse,
and with him the army halted, a splendid patch of steel and color
upon the plain. Duke Baldwin turned in his saddle and smiled upon his
chivalry, while he pointed to the Catalan Grand Company and the forces
of the lady of Thebes.
"There lie the rebels," he shouted, his great voice rolling like a
drum-call over his host, "and here ride we that shall wipe them out of
the field. It is but poor sport I offer you, gentle friends, to slay
the jacks of a jade, but it will soon be over, and we shall scour the
land of Greece clean of these cozeners."
As he spoke he swung his sword forth from his scabbard, and held it
stretched in menace against the enemy, while the knights behind him
thundered cheer after cheer, and settled themselves firmly in their
saddles for the charge across the shining plain. Baldwin lifted his
great blade to heaven.
"Saint Denis for Athens!" he cried, and stuck his spurs into the sides
of his mighty charger.
"Saint Denis for Athens!" echoed his chivalry at his heels, and in
another moment the splendid mass of men-at-arms was in motion. Simon's
spirits were at the top as he gave his horse the rein and felt the
morning air stronger against his face. But he kept a watchful eye on
the young prince who rode beside him, and it gladdened him to see that
Rainouart sat so stiffly in his saddle and held his lance so well. "A
plague upon love and lovers," he grumbled in his heart; "what have they
to do with a gentleman-at-arms?" and then he had time to think no more
for the swift exhilaration of the charge. On the knights came, Baldwin
leading, the young Prince of Athens close behind him, and Simon by his
side, the rest thundering in open order with levelled spears. A few
minutes more now and the Catalan Grand Company would be very decisively
disbanded. But even as Simon charged his horse caught a hoof in a hole,
and, coming heavily on to its knees, shot Simon out of his stirrup,
and Simon landed sprawling on the ground. Now Simon was a heavy man,
and Simon, as befitted the knight of Florency, was in full armor, and
Simon, though he tried his best, found it as hard to rise as if he were
a capsized turtle. But Rainouart riding ahead saw his mishap, and,
reining in his black horse, came back to Simon.
"Nay," cried Simon, "ride to victory, and leave me to shift."
But Rainouart would not have it so. He might be out of the first
bright wave of battle, but he could not leave his brother-in-arms in
distressful plight. And there was, indeed, but brief delay. Rainouart
dismounting soon got Simon to his feet, and Simon mounted his horse,
which was little the worse for its stumble, and together they spurred
to catch up with the charging cavalry. But the time, short though it
was, had allowed a great gap of green field to grow between the riding
knights and their two pursuers, and it took some strenuous seconds to
bring their horses' noses to the tails of their predecessors.
Even as they who had been in the vaward now at length joined themselves
to the rear, suddenly Simon saw Duke Baldwin's great charger stagger
and reel and plunge unaccountably, and the next moment Simon found that
his own horse was striving to make its way through ground as muddy
and pulpy as a swamp. Water was squelching and oozing and bubbling
over his horse's fetlocks; the young prince's horse was in the like
stress; and, looking rapidly to left and right, Simon could see that
all the extending line of knights had found the same difficulty in
the way of their progress. It is some ditch, Simon thought, which can
soon be passed, and he urged his steed with a spur to a progress that
became momentarily more difficult. Duke Baldwin was floundering and
struggling in the ever-increasing bog, and Simon could hear him cursing
furiously as he strove to advance. Simon's own horse and the horse of
the prince were now knee-deep in the horrible morass in which by this
time all the knights were floundering. They could, indeed, advance a
little still, but every step was harder than the last, and every inch
of way seemed to find no firmer earth, while black splashes of water
spurted from the puddled soil at every pace, and little pools sucked
and gurgled ominously round the legs of the frightened horses.
There must be dry land somewhere, Simon thought, too much bewildered
by this singular obstacle to wonder how such a ditch as this could
have remained unknown to the Athenian leader. Across the green corn he
could see the Catalans still composedly standing at gaze, while on all
sides of him now the heavily armed knights and the heavy horses were
sinking deeper and deeper in the treacherous marsh. Duke Baldwin ahead
was up to his horse's middle now in the clinging mud, and was vainly
essaying with oaths and curses to urge the beast a little farther. Like
flies glued in honey seemed all the chivalry of Athens, plunging and
struggling to extricate themselves from the fatal fen, and then Simon
saw how some of the men of the Catalan Grand Company began to move.
First, the bowmen lifted their bows and drew arrow to ear, and then a
cloud of shafts came over the entangled knights, who could neither
advance nor retreat, but were limed helplessly in the imprisoning
slime. Then swift Spanish soldiers came running nimbly towards them,
picking their way easily over the sump in which the Athenians wallowed
an inextricable mass of men and horses, and as the Spaniards ran the
sunlight glittered on the long knives they carried in their hands.
In an instant of agony Simon realized that all was lost, that the
flower of the Athenian army was snared in that mysterious marish, and
that there was little chance for any man among them to come out alive.
Already the Spanish knife-men were thick and busy among their victims,
paddling easily where horse and armor sank, and dealing death wherever
they came with their terrible knives. Already Duke Baldwin was down
with twenty men upon him. Hardly a dozen yards away Simon saw the
girlish face of Guy de Hainault for the first time writhen with rage.
He had lifted his visor to see more clearly what had happened, and
he wielded his sword in vain against his unreachable assailants, and
then a dozen men were on him from behind, and a dozen knives met in
his body, and he went down and Simon saw him no more. The black slush
was everywhere reddening with blood, as knight after knight perished
ingloriously, helpless to evade the stings that slew them, and unable
to strike a good stroke in defence of his life and of Athens.
It all happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Simon caught himself
staring at the bloody work about him in a kind of unconsciousness, a
kind of indifference, such as a man might wear who came unexpectedly
upon a puppet-show in a village square. Above him the sky, to which
his eyes travelled unawares, shone as brightly blue as it had shone in
the hours of their merry march, since the peach color of the dawn had
faded. The bright Greek world was the same, and yet the bright Greek
world was all different, a mud-stained, blood-stained slaughter-spot,
where brave knights were being murdered. Then, in the midst of the
butchery all about him, Simon thought suddenly of the greenwood and a
girl with a face like a god, and of a noble youth who rode at his side
and strove to force his way over the morass. Instantly a great resolve
came into Simon's mind that he would save the boy Rainouart for the
girl Argathona.
Long afterwards, happily settled in Rouen, Simon, when he thought over
the events of that whirling hour, used to remind himself that then, for
the first time in his life, he devoutly gave God thanks for having made
him so strong. In those after days in peaceful Rouen, he knew the cause
of the catastrophe. The subtle genius of Fernand Ximenes had prepared
an amazing trap for the Athenian army. He had turned aside the current
of the river Cephissus into the cornfields of the Theban plain, and so
flooded them, the quagmire thus created being completely concealed by
the green standing corn. It was into this swamp that Duke Baldwin had
ridden to his death, and it was in this swamp that Simon was now to
struggle for his life and for the life of his lord.
Now when in an age-long instant Simon saw how things stood, and how
certain were the Athenian chivalry to perish before the eyes of
their enemies in that slough and snare, he caught at the bridle of
Rainouart's horse, so that though the beast trampled and stumbled
sinking in the mud, it could at least go no farther.
"In God's name," Rainouart cried at him, "why do you hold me back? Ride
on. Athens, Athens!"
He strove hotly to urge his struggling horse farther into the field of
carnage, but Simon would not have it so.
"My lord," he shouted--for the din was so great with the neighing of
frightened horses and the cries of dying men that it was hard for a
voice to prevail above it even in a neighbor's ear--"my lord, all is
lost; we are all trapped rabbits; turn your rein and we may escape."
Rainouart turned on him in a red rage of despair.