Part 35 (1/2)
”That I cannot do. This letter, which I doubt not is of great moment, I will take charge of, and hand over to my Lord Chandos. 'Tis now daylight, and we must needs return to the camp. I am loth to let thee walk, but as there is but one horse between two knights, 'tis better that neither ride.”
Walking side by side, and followed by Thompson leading the captive's horse, Raymond and the French knight arrived at the camp without further incident, and, after handing his prisoner over to the camp-martial, the young knight repaired with all despatch to find Sir John Hacket.
On hearing Raymond's story the Constable accompanied him to the tent of Sir John Chandos, whose banner floated close to the royal pavilion.
Lord Chandos opened the letter which Raymond had gained possession of, and found that its contents were practically undamaged in the struggle.
”Canst read?” he asked of the Constable. ”For this crabbed fist doth sorely try my one eye.”
”Nay,” replied Sir John Hacket with a grim smile. ”Only enough for mine own use, for from my seventh year the sword ever proved a more pleasing companion than a scrawling, musty parchment.”
”And canst thou, Sir Raymond?”
”I will try my best, fair sir.”
Raymond took the missive and began to read the superscription, written in French: ”To the very puissant knight, Sir John de Vienne, seneschal of our town of Calais, greeting.”
The body of the letter began by thanking the Governor for his brave resistance, and expressing hopes of being able to speedily succour the besieged. It then confirmed the arrangements, previously made through the Gascon traitor, for a sally, in conjunction with an attempt on the part of the French forces to break the English lines from without. Should the French be unable to carry out their part and attack the English camp, three white lights were to be shown from the ruins of an old mill near Sangatte, and the besieged would then be at liberty to make the best terms they could for the surrender of Calais. The epistle was signed by no less a personage than King Philip of France.
”By St. George, we have them,” exclaimed Chandos, striking his fist heavily upon an oaken chest. ”Though I would rather that Rene de Caux were swinging from a gallows in view of the town than lying dead at thy hands in the ruined mill. No matter; this letter must reach the Governor of Calais. Five hundred lances and two thousand archers will suffice to keep the Frenchmen from advancing upon us; and tomorrow night will see three white lights from the old mill at Sangatte.”
At nightfall a squire of the Captal de Buche crept cautiously to the postern of the Boulogne Gate, and, representing himself as an emissary of the false Rene de Caux, handed the fatal letter to the Governor, Sir John de Vienne. The presence of a strong force of Englishmen beyond the dunes of Sangatte prevented the expected French army from occupying the mill and signalling to their friends in the beleaguered city, and the following night three white lights flashed their message of despair to the hitherto undaunted garrison.
Thus the fall of Calais was hastened, but Raymond saw nothing of the final act in the drama, when the heroic Eustace de St. Pierre and his five companions were nearly sacrificed to appease the anger of the English King (Queen Philippa's intercession alone saved their lives), for the young knight was with the five hundred lances that guarded the approach from Boulogne; and on the 6th of August, two days after Edward had taken possession of the town, the Hamps.h.i.+re companies, with whom was Sir Reginald Scarsdale, embarked for the sh.o.r.es of England.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE HOMECOMING
AFTER four days of light but favourable winds the little fleet, consisting of seven vessels, that bore the Hamps.h.i.+re men homewards arrived off the Isle of Wight. Battle and disease had thinned their ranks, but the survivors returned in high spirits, flushed with victory and rich with the loads of spoil that lay in the holds.
At Spithead the flotilla separated, Sir John Hacket's two s.h.i.+ps making for Portsmouth Harbour, three heading for Southampton, and the remaining two setting a course down the Solent for Lepe and Lymington respectively. Amid a fanfare of trumpets and the farewell shouts of the troops to their former companions in arms, the Constable's vessels pointed to the north-west in the direction of the even lines of Portsdown, under the shadow of which lay the Castle of Portchester.
The s.h.i.+elds of the three knights were displayed over the side of the leading s.h.i.+p, while from her truck floated the blue banner with the device of the crescent and star, and on the p.o.o.p were gathered Sir John Hacket, Sir Reginald Scarsdale, and Sir Raymond Revyngton, engaged in joyous conversation at the prospect of a speedy landing on their native soil.
”And what dost thou purpose to do, Raymond?” inquired the Constable.
”Surely there is little need to hasten westwards to thy newly-gained estates; 'twould be better far to wait the return of the Devons.h.i.+re men. Tarry awhile at Portchester, for methinks there is much to be done here before setting out on thy travels. And thou, Sir Reginald?
Wilt accept such hospitality that my poor castle can offer?”
”I must first seek out my daughter Audrey,” quoth Sir Reginald. ”And I have but little doubt that Raymond will bear me company.”
”Doth she know of thy return?”