Britain in the Middle Ages Part 9

[Ill.u.s.tration: PREPARING THE FEAST]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FEAST]

"Sirs," said the King, "I am well agreed thereto; withdraw you home into your houses and into such villages as ye came from and leave behind you of every village two or three and I shall cause writings to be made and seal them with my seal, the which they shall have with them, containing everything that ye demand." They said, "It is well said, we desire no better," and so they returned to their own homes.

The King could not keep his promise to the peasants, for the lords were stronger than he, yet not long after this time we find the peasants more free and labouring for hire.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE WAR WITH FRANCE (_continued_)

When Henry V was crowned King, he desired much to revive the glories of Crecy and so he summoned his n.o.bles to war. Then he built a great fleet to carry them to France, cutting down the oak trees in the Forest of Epping for that purpose.

He was much loved by all his soldiers, "for in wrestling, leaping and running, no man could compare with him. In casting of great iron bars and heavy stones, he excelled all men, never shrinking at cold, nor slothful for heat; and when he most laboured, his head commonly uncovered; no more weariness of light armour than a light coat, very valiantly abiding at need both hunger and thirst, so manful of mind as never to seem to quinch at a wound or to smart at the pain."

When he came into the realm of France, he laid siege to the strong city of Harfleur. It was summer time and many of the soldiers fell sick.

Though the town was captured, Henry could but turn his back on Paris and march homeward on the old road to Calais, as his great-grandfather Edward III had done in like case.

"The English were brought into some distress in this journey, by reason of their victuals in manner spent and no hope to get more: for the enemies had destroyed all the corn before they came. Rest could they none take, for their enemies with alarms did ever so infest them; daily it rained and nightly it freezed; of fuel there was great scarcity; money enough, but wares for their relief to bestow it on had they none.

Yet, in this great necessity, the poor people of the country were not spoiled nor anything taken of them without payment, nor any offence done by Englishmen."

In the French camp, there was much strife and discontent, yet when the news of the English King's distress reached them, and they sent after him their herald to demand ransom, the King answered with scorn. So Mountjoy, King-at-arms, was sent to the King of England to defy him as the enemy of France and to tell him that he should shortly have battle.

King Henry advisedly answered, "Mine intent is to do as it pleaseth G.o.d. I will not seek your master at this time, but if he or his seek me I will meet them, G.o.d willing." When he had thus answered the herald, he gave him a princely reward and licence to depart.

Then the French, coming to the field of Agincourt, and seeing how small an army stood before them, sent the herald once again to seek a ransom.

Henry answered that he would never pay such ransom. "When the messenger was come back to the French host, the men of war put on their helmets and caused their trumpets to blow to the battle."

As the English soldiers looked at the great host before them, there were some who sighed for the thousands lying idle in England. Henry, hearing them, answered, "I would not have a single man more. If G.o.d give us the victory it will be plain that we owe it to His grace. If not, the fewer we are, the less the loss for England." "What time is it now?" he asked. "The bells are ringing prime [six o'clock], my lord,"

answered the Bishop. "Now it is good time," said the King. "England prayeth for us, let us be of good cheer. Banners advance!"

Then these Frenchmen came p.r.i.c.king down, as they would have over-ridden all our company. But G.o.d and our archers made them soon to stumble, for our archers shot never arrow amiss that did not pierce and bring to ground horse and man. And our King fought like a man, with his own hands. So were the French put to rout, though they indeed had been strong in their pride.

Then the King pa.s.sed into England and "in this pa.s.sage the seas were so rough and troublous" that two s.h.i.+ps were driven ash.o.r.e, and the French prisoners said they would rather fight in another battle than cross the seas again. As they came in sight of the sh.o.r.e, the townsmen of Dover came out to meet them, wading waist-deep in the water, so great was their joy at the news. Bonfires were lit and bells were rung and money was freely given to the soldier King.

"The mayor of London and aldermen, apparelled in orient grained scarlet, and four hundred commoners, clad in beautiful mulberry cloth, well-mounted and trimly horsed, with rich collars and great chains met the King on Blackheath, rejoicing at his return, and the clergy of London, with rich crosses, sumptuous copes and ma.s.sy censors, received him at S. Thomas of Waterways [on the Old Kent Road] with solemn procession."

It was not long before he set out again to win back Normandy, lost by John long ago. He laid siege to its chief city, where there was much suffering, of which the King had pity.

Of the people to tell the truth It was a sight of mickle ruth; Much of the folk that was therein They were but bones and the bare skin With hollow eyes and face a-peak, They scarce had strength to breathe or speak.

When the city surrendered, the King, "clothed in black damask, mounted on a black horse, with a squire behind him, bearing a fox-brush on a spear, for a banner, rode to the minster to give thanks for his victory."

Then Henry marched on towards Paris, for "he had such knowledge in ordering and guiding an army with such a gift to encourage his people that the Frenchmen had constant opinion he would never be vanquished in battle." The Dauphin of France was idle and the old French King ill, so it befell that Henry married the French Princess and ruled Northern France.

To the sorrow of all men he died soon after, and his son when he grew up had many troubles; for in those days, a soldier was held more in honour than a poet and a dreamer.

Some years after Henry's death, Joan of Arc appeared to rescue her land from the enemy, for there was no hope either in the Dauphin who should have been its King or among the French lords who had lost their honour.

Joan described how it happened to her in these words, "At the age of thirteen, I had a voice from G.o.d to guide me, and the first time I was very frightened; this voice came at the hour of noon in summer time, in my father's garden; it was on a fast day, I heard the voice on the right side where the church is. I saw at the time a great light."

Then the Archangel Michael addressed her desiring that she should "have pity on the fair realm of France." She answered him, "Messire, I am but a poor maiden; I know not how to ride to the wars or to lead men-at-arms." But the voices were ever in her ear.

When her friends desired her not to go, she answered them, "I had far rather rest and spin by my mother's side; for this is no work of my choosing, but I must go and do it, for my Lord wills it." "And who is your Lord?" they asked. "He is G.o.d," she said.

When she had come with much danger and trouble to the place where the Dauphin lay, she desired to see him, but those that stood round mocked her.

Coming into the presence, she said, "Gentle Dauphin, my name is Jeanne the Maid. The Heavenly King sends me to tell you that you shall be anointed and crowned in the town of Reims and you shall be lieutenant of the Heavenly King, who is the King of France."

After many weary days, the Dauphin considered her message and he gave to her some of his armed men that she might prove that G.o.d was on her side. He bade her go to get back the good city of Orleans, which was in dire need by reason of the great armies of the English encamped round about it.

Then was the might of the maid proved, for no sooner had her standard touched the walls of the city than the town was saved. Soldiers, who had scoffed or stood aside, now joined her. Thus was she able to march through the land in triumph to the city of Reims, where it was the custom to crown the Kings of France, and in the host there marched the Dauphin.

In that city, she crowned the King, and the English fell back at the terror of her name. Then kneeling before the King, she said, "O gentle King, the pleasure of G.o.d is done, would it were His pleasure that I might go and keep sheep once more with my sisters and my brothers. They would be rejoiced to see me again."

The King dared not let her go, yet she had many enemies, for the lords of France did not care to think that she had led their armies. To their bitter shame, they made little effort to save her from the English and she was burnt as a witch. From that day, the English gradually lost all France save Calais.

So the victories of Henry V were of no avail and there was much poverty in England and murmuring against the rulers.

CHAPTER XXV

NEW WORLDS

The barons came back from France. They were practised in the art of war and they turned their homes into strong forts and their servants into soldiers. Of these, they found many who were well versed in arms and ready to fight. They gave them food and lodging for their services and liveries to distinguish them from the followers of their neighbours and they no longer fought for the King but each for his own gain.

The squires in the manors and the merchants in the towns stood in awe of these unruly subjects of the realm, but against them there was no remedy, and every man was forced to choose out a lord to protect him.

Of the long wars which these men waged, fighting for the rival princes of York and Lancaster, for the white and the red rose, and of the havoc that they wrought in the land, there are many stories.

Though the barons made war on one another, the citizens held their markets and fairs and worked with skill in their trades. Foreigners desired to buy, and they were anxious for peace with a country that could give them the finest wool. More s.h.i.+ps were built to cross the narrow seas, and they were free to come and go, since England watched them from her two eyes, Calais and Dover.

The merchants began to use more of their own good wool and many skilled craftsmen were needed for cloth making. First the wool was sorted and the coa.r.s.e taken from the fine, then it was dyed, orange, red, green, russet made from madder, or blue from woad, a flower, which grew abundantly in France. The carder came next and the spinster spun it into long threads on her distaff.

The weaver next doth warp and weave the chain, Whilst Puss, his cat, stands mewing for a skein.

The cloth was cleaned and thickened by the walkers, who trampled it in a trough of water and stretched it upon tenters to dry. Then came the rower who beat it with teazles to find out all the loose fibres and the shearman stood by with shears to cut off the knots and ends when they appeared. Before it was sold, the drawer must mend any holes or bad places in it:

The drawer last that many faults doth hide, (Whom merchant nor the weaver can abide) Yet is he one in most clothes, stops more holes Than there be stairs to the top of S. Paul's.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CHRISTIAN OF CONSTANTINOPLE BORROWING MONEY FROM A JEW AND PLEDGING HIS CRUCIFIX]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MIeLOT IN HIS STUDY]