CHAPTER X--THE PASS OF THE EAGLES
On a breezy autumn morning, while we made practice of arms in thecourtyard, a herald from De Lacey, the Lord High Constable, rode overMountjoy drawbridge. He had an urgent message for my father, and thelike for Sir Geoffrey, the young Lord of Carleton, Sir James Dunwoodieof Grimsby and all the other loyal knights and barons of ourneighborhood. The Welsh had broken over the border once more; and underRhys, their barbarous chief who styled himself King of Wales, wereburning and ravaging through the Western Marches. Many miles of fair andfruitful land they had overrun; and now they lay before Wallingham,threatening that goodly fortress and all of those who had taken refugewithin it with fire and sword.
The army of the Welsh was five thousand strong. They had driven thegarrison of Wallingham within walls at once; and had they been asskilled in the use of mangonels and other enginery of siege as they werewith the swords and javelins of their ancient custom, they would erethis have breached or scaled the walls and given the place over tomassacre and the torch. But stout Sir Philip De Courcey still stood atbay; and now De Lacey was arming for his relief. The Constable had butfive hundred horsemen; and of these seven score mail-clad knights, forthe young king, Richard the Lion Hearted, so lately crowned, wasgathering for the Crusade a vast array of the chivalry of England; andthis left our Western Marches but lightly defended. So the LordConstable was sending messengers far and wide, calling to his standardthe knights and barons of the Western counties with all the mounted menthat at a day's notice they could muster.
De Lacey had many times before met and scattered the bands of Welshmarauders. Now he meant to deliver such a blow as should break theirpower forever. He had sworn to drive them not only from the plain ofWallingham, but across the Marches and into their mountain fastnessesand to harry and slay them till not a score of the robbers remainedunder the skull-bone banner of their chief. To this end, he would acceptno foot-soldiers, even as archers. His whole force must be mounted inorder that the Welsh, on their tough little mountain horses might notescape as they had done after many another bloody raid.
On the following day there gathered under the Constable's banner atHereford such an array of chivalry as I had ne'er before seen. Fourhundred mail-clad knights were there, and near a thousand men-at-arms ingood steel caps and braced and quilted leathern jackets and bearing thestout shields and heavy broadswords of their trade. Then there weretwelve hundred and more of archers, mostly armed with cross-bows, butsome with long-bows and cloth-yard shafts, some having quilted caps andjackets, but more being lightly clad in the foresters' Lincoln green orpeasants' hodden gray. All, as by the Constable's command, were mountedin some sort, though truly some of the sorry old nags and hairy-leggedplow-horses that they bestrode might have much to do to overtake one ofthe wiry and long-shanked Welsh who fled on foot, to say naught of theirponies that could run all day without tiring on their moorland tracksand winding mountain ways.
Geoffrey, the young Lord of Carleton, with two hundred men, was at themeeting place when we arrived. Soon after came Dunwoodie of Grimsby,Lord Pelham, Lionel of Montmorency and the men of Mannerley, Whitburyand Gresham. By the Commander's order, each man had in his pouch storeof bread and dried meat for three days' campaigning. Beyond that time,we must find our eating where we could. 'Twas mid-afternoon ere ourforce was assembled; but we took the road straightway, and by nightfallwere encamped at Hardiston, half way to Wallingham.
For Geoffrey of Carleton, for myself, the Heir of Mountjoy, and mysquire and comrade, Cedric of Pelham Wood, this was the first sight andsound of war on such a scale; and we were fairly lifted up by thethought of what the morrow would bring. Cedric and I had each nineteenyears at Candlemas, and Sir Geoffrey but six months less. Many bloodyfrays had we seen in the petty warfare of our countryside with robberbaron and with banded forest outlaws; and each of us already knew thepang of hostile steel. Cedric, indeed, was but lately recovered from thewounds he had a year before at Morton where he had been accounted as onedead. But the tramp of an army of mounted men and the sweet music oftheir clinking armor and weapons we heard for the first time that day.We rode near the middle of the line; and, glancing forward and back atthe gallant train, that seemed a whole crusade on the narrow roads,could scarce believe that there existed anywhere an enemy that couldstand before its charge. Our mail-clad knights alone, riding under thelead of the stern old Constable, seemed invincible. The Welsh, we knew,fought without defensive armor, save their bull's hide shields; andalmost I pitied them for their nakedness when I thought of the terribleNorman spears and swords in the hands of men long trained in theirskillful use and hardened by years of warfare. It seemed scarce fairindeed that knights and gentlemen should fight at such advantage. Thearrows and javelins and e'en the sword strokes of their enemies wouldtouch them not, while their own well-aimed blows would cleave throughflimsy defenses and scatter wounds and death. Thus mused I in myyouthful ignorance; but ere two days had passed I was both sadder andwiser. Never again will I pass such hasty judgment on the power of anenemy I have not surely tried.
Though both Sir Geoffrey and I were as yet knights by courtesy only, nothaving won our spurs, we were armed and equipped for the expedition likethe older knights about us. Cedric also, though a yeoman born, wore acoat of woven mail, and had a good broadsword at his side. But slungupon his back the while was his steel cross-bow--his first and favoriteweapon and the one with which he had such wondrous skill. He couldstrike a running hare more surely than I could one that sat stock stillbeneath a bush; and he had managed to impart to a dozen and more of theMountjoy archers some measure of his craft, so that 'twas acknowledgedwe had the best cross-bow men in the countryside.
Geoffrey of Carleton had gained much in the two years just past inbreadth of shoulder and length of arm; and could now dispute with me onalmost even terms with the foils or the wooden targes and broadswords ofour martial play. I had already the height and reach of my father whohad a name for bone and brawn and feats of knightly strength; andCedric, though a handsbreadth shorter, had the shoulders and thighs of asmith. He could hang by one arm from a bough, and draw himself up to thechin; and I have seen him crumple a gold coin in his hand by way ofmaking good his word when he had declared it over thin and light.
Though Cedric was born and had lived till his sixteenth year in thewoodland cottage of his father, the forester of Pelham, his speech wasnot as that of the churls around us; and at Castle Mountjoy he hadlearned the ways of gentleness as readily as one of noblest blood. Mylady mother was never aweary of lessoning such a pupil in the manners ofa knight and gentleman; and now had reason to look with pride on herwork. Withal Cedric ne'er forgot the class from which he sprung norcarried himself as a lord over them when given authority.
We made but a short night of it at Hardiston. By three o' the clock wewere in saddle again, and pricking forward toward the plain ofWallingham. By sun-up we were within three leagues of the castle, andthe Constable had sent forward light-armed scouts to bring us word ofthe siege. Then spake my father, with the freedom of an old comrade ofthe Constable's and veteran of many a hard campaign:
"Methinks, my lord, that Rhys and his Welsh rabble will ne'er await ourcoming on Wallingham Plain where they must needs fight with the castlein their rear and the danger of a sortie of the garrison. Beshrew me ifthey do not fly again across the Marches when they hear of our coming inforce, and await another time to strike at undefended lands."
"By'r Lady! Mountjoy," returned the Constable, "I believe thou'rt right,and Rhys will never risk his thieving crew on a good wide field wheresword and lance decide the day. But what would'st thou suggest? Can wedo aught but ride for Wallingham as hard as may be?"
"Aye, my lord. There is a fork o' the road a bowshot hence where onetrack leads to Wallingham and the other to Egbert's Ford o'er a widestream a league from the castle. 'Tis on the road to the Marches; and ifwe ride and hold it, we may there intercept the Welsh and cut them offfrom their retreat. If they leave not Wallingham
, we can ride fromthence and take them at vantage."
"Well said, Mountjoy, i' faith!" cried De Lacey, "prithee, Sir Richardof Mountjoy, ride forward and give the word to the vanguard to take theright turning. We'll come between the rogues and their retreat, andfight, mayhap, with the river at our backs. There'll be full many ofthem, I trust, that will never ride again for robbery and burning."
Mine errand with the vanguard was quickly done. Less than an hourthereafter we rode out of the forest in sight of Egbert's Ford. Thenwere Lord Mountjoy's words full justified for we saw before us, and buthalf a mile away, the whole army of the Welsh in full retreat on theroad toward the Marches and the tangle of mountains and valleys beyond.Fortune smiled on our banners that morning; for indeed, had we foreknownour enemies' movements and timed our coming to the minute, it could nothave better fallen out. As we emerged from the greenwood, half of theWelsh army had already crossed the stream; the water at the ford wasfilled with mounted men and bullock carts, laden with spoil and makingtheir difficult way through the swift-flowing current; and the remainderof their forces still stood on the hither side, awaiting their turn forthe crossing.
It needed not the eye of a great captain to discern our vantage in sucha posture. As our knights and men-at-arms came forth on the field theyset up a shout of joy full like that of unleashed hounds that see theboar started from his covert. Almost without a word from their chiefs,and without a moment's loss, they formed in line of battle. Then camethe Constable's ringing word: "Forward for Saint George!" and the linerolled forward down the hill with a rush and roar like that of the greatdownfall of rock and earth and full-grown trees that I had once seen inthe Western mountains.
My father and I rode at the head of the Mountjoy knights andmen-at-arms, and not far from the Constable. Sir Geoffrey full gallantlycaptained the chivalry of Carleton and Teramore, and Lionel ofMontmorency rode just beyond him, leading a hundred lances. LordMountjoy had named Cedric to lead the Mountjoy archers, five scorestrong; and I could see o'er my shoulder that they were the first of thebowmen to form their line and follow in the wake of the men-at-arms.Thus the army of the Constable poured down upon the luckless Welshmen intwo thunderous, onrushing waves.
_THE WATER AT THE FORD WAS FILLED WITH MOUNTED MEN ANDBULLOCK CARTS, LADEN WITH SPOIL AND MAKING THEIR DIFFICULT WAY THROUGHTHE SWIFT-FLOWING CURRENT_]
They made shift to meet our attack as best they might, facing us withstubborn courage indeed, but with little skill of the military art, andwith a battle front that seemed more like a moiling and howling mob ofrioters than an army under its lawful captains. If any noise e'er heardcould have effected it, we might have been checked indeed, for, as wegalloped down upon them, they set up a chorus of shrieks and yells thatseemed like to split one's ears. Swords and maces seemed their principalweapons, with here and there a lance or a battle-ax, and mingledhelter-skelter with their heavier arms, the bows and shafts of theirarchers. Their bows had not the length nor the power of those of ourEnglish foresters; and the cloud of arrows they sent toward ourmail-clad line had no more effect than as if a flock of sparrows hadsought to check and thwart us.
Into that howling mob we rushed with leveled lances. Our horses werestayed by the very mass of the bodies of our enemies; and in a moment wewere assailed, as it seemed, from all sides, by the survivors, some ofthem dreadfully wounded, but wielding swords and battle-clubs andjavelins with a demon-like fury.
Their skill with these weapons was not to be despised; and, if they hadno coats of mail to shield them, neither were their movements impeded byweight of armor. Hundreds of our men-at-arms and scores of knights fellin that struggle on the river brink. Victory was no such easy goal as Ihad thought.
Meanwhile the half of the Welsh army which was on the other side of theriver, commanded by Rhys himself, essayed to re-cross and come to theaid of their comrades. They might well have succeeded, and mayhap foundsome means of outflanking us, had it not been for the watchfulness ofCedric of Mountjoy. He and our whole array of archers had been closebehind us, striving to do their share by way of shooting between ourbodies at the mass of Welshmen. But soon the tangle was such that theirbolts seemed as like to slay friend as foe, and they had graduallydesisted. Then Cedric caught sight of the Welsh entering the water onthe farther side, and drawing the Mountjoy archers to the left of themain battle, began sending a stream of quarrels in their direction. TheLord Constable, having just then a moment's respite, saw what wastoward, and sent word to the other leaders of our bowmen to follow thetactics of the Mountjoy men. In a moment the air above the stream wasfilled with a cloud of bolts and shafts, and the waters became cloggedwith dead and dying men and horses. Such a rain of death and wounds wasnot to be endured by unprotected men. Soon the Welsh warriors wereturning their horses' heads again toward the bank; and those thatregained it, with their fellows who had not yet reentered the ford, fellback to a safer distance.
Now the battle on the river bank went swiftly to its close. Thestruggling and yelling Welsh grew ever fewer, and our knights gainedroom for yet more deadly work with sword and lance. Soon the half of theWelsh forces that had occupied the hither bank had been destroyed orscattered, and our army was crossing the river in pursuit of Rhys andhis remaining warriors who were riding for life toward the mountains inthe West.
True to his sworn purpose, the Constable lost not a moment in the chase.The Welsh horses were fresher than ours that had already traveled farthat day, and they were more lightly burdened, else we might have riddenthem down and finished the work so well begun at Egbert's Ford. As itwas, our enemies, by abandoning their spoils and lashing their poniesforward without mercy, managed to keep well beyond bowshot for the halfa dozen leagues that lay between the Ford and the entrance of a narrowvalley that led up into the mountains where they had so often beforefound safe retreat. Into this defile we rode at three o' the clock,cutting down or making prisoners of a dozen stragglers whose horses hadfailed them at the beginning of the upward road.
Without pause we spurred on up the stony pathway for a mile and more;then found the valley narrowing to a pass between high walls of rock.Through this the army of the Welsh had gone, leaving a guard of ahundred or more to stay our progress.
Our leader well knew the tactics fit for such a juncture. He halted hismain force, and sent forward the archers,--the long-bow men under Simonof Montmorency, and those with cross-bows under Cedric of Mountjoy. Soonthe defenders of the pass were whelmed with a cloud of arrows andquarrels. They sheltered themselves as best they might 'mongst rocks andtrees; but the arrows came like rain, searching every cranny of thepass. In scarce half an hour the last of the Welsh rear-guard was slainor had fled, and the way was open before us.
The Constable left two hundred men-at-arms and archers, under an old andtrusted knight, to guard the pass behind us; and we rode forward intothe wide valley. The day was now far spent, and the sun had passed fromsight behind the mountains that rose ever higher toward the West. Thescattered oaks and firs and the great rocks that strewed the valley oneither hand might well have sheltered an ambush; and we rode forwardmore slowly, with lines of skirmishers well to the fore and to the rightand left.
And now it seemed that Fortune who with the sun had smiled upon us allday long, withdrew her favor also, for we had traversed scarce a leagueof the rocky track along which Rhys and his army had fled when thickclouds obscured the narrow sky above us; thunder roared and rumbled inthe mountain passes, and torrents of rain began to fall. The darknessswiftly enclosed us, and we had perforce to halt lest we should lose ourway amongst the woods and rocks. There, drenched and chilled and wornwith a day of riding and battle, we made bivouac and ate of the food inour pouches. Mindful of the skill and daring of the Welsh in nightattacks, the Lord Constable posted double lines of sentinels; and weseized such sleep as we might, wrapped in our dripping cloaks and lyingupon the grass and leaves.
At last, I for one, slumbered heavily; and it seemed but an hour ere ourleaders roused us and we saw the black
shadows of the mists around usturning gray with morning light. While we ate again of the bread andmeat we carried, the Constable despatched two riders with a message toSir Guy Baldiston at the pass, with commands to send back word toWallingham of our whereabouts and our intent to pursue the ravagersstill farther.
In half an hour we were again in saddle, and De Lacey was givingdirections for our better ordering to guard against surprise upon themarch, when one descried our messengers returning at full gallop andlying low upon their horses' necks as if in fear of arrows that mightcome from wayside rocks and trees. They rode indeed not like thesoldiers of a victor's army but like men who are hunted and flee fortheir lives.
In a moment more they had attained our lines, their horses loudlypanting with the labor of such galloping over rough and stony paths; andthe foremost rider cried out to the Commander:
"Oh, my lord! Sir Guy and all his men are slain, and the Welsh have thepass again. We but narrowly escaped being taken ourselves."
The Constable sat on his great war-horse, gazing and frowning at themessenger for a length of time that an arrow, shot strongly upward,might have needed to come again to earth. Then he said, sternly:
"And how closely didst thou see all this?"
"My lord, we rode within a bowshot. 'Twas something dark and misty; andwe knew not what was toward. The pass is filled with Welshmen; and theyraise the skull-bone banner. 'Tis an army such as we encounteredyesterday."
De Lacey glanced about him at his leaders.
"My lords and gentlemen: you hear what has chanced. Shall we attackagain from this side or fare onward?"
"We must ride onward, my lord, and that quickly," answered LordMountjoy, "we cannot force that narrow pass 'gainst such an army as ourmessenger describes. Doubtless they hold also the crags above; and fromthence they can roll down rocks that would fell and crush any force thatattempted it."
"We saw many hundreds of them on the crags above," put in the messenger.
"And what if we ride forward?" demanded the Constable. "Have we aclearer road on that side?"
"Aye, my lord," returned my father, "once, years agone, I rode throughthis valley a hawking. There is another gateway, called the Pass of theEagles, three leagues farther west. It is much broader than the other,and if we hasten, Rhys can scarcely gather a force that can hold itagainst us. Then beyond is the good wide valley of Owain, adown which,in ten hours hard riding we may gain the Marches once more."
The Lord Constable gazed at the ground before him for a moment. Then helifted his head and spake so that all around might hear.
"My lords: this Welsh freebooter hath shown himself a better generalthan I. He hath enticed us into this valley, and then hath closed thegate behind us, as one entraps a bear or wolf. The storm, it seems, hathgiven him respite; he fights in his own land, and doubtless the nighthath brought many recruits to his banner. Now ride we on to force thisother gateway ere he gather an army that can close that also. Forward,for Saint George."
At the full trot we rode away, and for an hour and more we slackened notour speed. By the sides of the pathway, or crouching under crags on thehillside, we saw at intervals the huts of stones and turf of the Welshmountain folk; but all stood silent and deserted with never a wisp ofsmoke from chimney or sight of woman or child.
When the sun was an hour high, the valley narrowed again around us; andwe came in sight of the Pass of the Eagles. Then indeed we knew that ifany of us returned alive from this adventure, 'twould be by the favor ofall the Saints and by the utmost might of our arms. For the army of Rhysstood before us, drawn up in twenty ranks across the defile which wasthere of a furlong's width. In the front rank stood the spearmen withthe butts of their weapons firmly planted in the ground and the pointsheld at the height of a horse's breast; in the next the King and hissons, the leaders of tribes and all of those who bore the heaviest armsand iron shields; behind them, rank after rank of swordsmen and javelinthrowers, and, rearmost, their archers with bows in hand and arrowsready notched.
The flanks of the Welsh array were protected by high and rocky slopeswhere scrubby oaks and thorns found scant foothold amidst the crags andwhere no horse could tread. On both sides of the valley where itnarrowed to the pass were broken cliffs that not a mountain goat couldscale. Beyond these lay the heather-covered mountainsides and farawayrocky peaks where already snow had come.
At the word our men wheeled into line of battle, the armored knights inthe van, in two open ranks, then the men-at-arms in three more of closerarray. The archers were not to charge with us, but, with a dozen knightsand a hundred men-at-arms under Lord Mountjoy, were to form a rearguardlest other bodies of the Welsh close in upon us. Both Sir Geoffrey and Ihad won favor in the Lord Constable's eyes by somewhat we hadaccomplished in the fighting at the ford; and now I led the forces ofMountjoy at his right and Geoffrey those of Carleton and Teramore on hisleft hand.
In a moment came the furious shock of battle and all the frightfulscenes of the struggle by the river's edge--with the vantage now on theside of our enemies. Many of the steeds of our gallant knightstransfixed themselves upon the Welsh lances; and their riders, broughtto the ground, fell victims to swords or javelins or were crushedbeneath the hoofs of our own oncoming ranks. But the line of spears wasutterly broken; and the other knights and men-at-arms drove furiouslyinto the mass before them. Swords and lances did their terrible work,and in the briefest time hundreds of our enemies had fallen. TheConstable fought that day with a huge mace, and, swinging it about hishead as it were a willow wand, he seemed like the great god Thor of theheathen worship of old.
But now for every two or three of the Welsh one of our knights ormen-at-arms perished also. Some of the tribesmen, struck down by theswords of the riders, thrust upwards at our horses with swords andknives as we passed over them, and so cast down many a rider into themelee of dashing hoofs and glancing blades; and many times furiouswarriors, laying hold upon the riders, brought them to the earth and tospeedy death. Their archers and javelin throwers aimed at our necks andfaces; and though many of their shafts flew wide or even struck downtheir own, others found their marks indeed and added to our fatallosses.
From one desperate moment to another, for a length of time ever unknownto me, the struggle and the slaying went on unchecked. Our numbers grewever fewer, and we were gaining scarce a yard of ground. For all theheaps of fallen, the Welsh fought on with undiminished fury; and 'twasevident that they would slay the last of us ere we could force the pass.Lionel of Montmorency had fallen with half his men, as also Dunwoodieand Sir William, his brother and heir. The Lord Constable himself waswounded, and, panting with fatigue and loss of blood, had dropped hismace to fight again with broadsword. Sir Geoffrey of Carleton had oncesaved him from the hands of a huge Welsh warrior who sought to drag himfrom his saddle; and now the two fought almost back to back in an evernarrowing circle of enemies.
Suddenly I saw and felt the tribesmen wavering and giving ground beforeus, and became aware of a shower of cross-bow bolts that was fallingamong them and striking them down by hundreds. Looking up to see whencethey came, I beheld Cedric of Mountjoy and half a thousand of hiscross-bow men among the rocks in the promontory to the right,discharging their bolts as fast as they could lay them in groove andpouring a most deadly hail into the thick ranks of our enemies. 'Twasevident that Cedric had dismounted all his men and found some means toscale the cliffs and strike the Welsh in flank.
_THE LEADER HAD HIS GREAT SWORD THRUST ASIDE BY CEDRIC'SBOW, THEN WAS SEIZED ABOUT THE WAIST AND HURLED TO THE ROCKS BELOW_]
Then I saw that a body of the enemy, hastily called from the rear-mostranks by the huge and red-haired Gruffud, son of Rhys, assaulted thisposition and sought to pull our archers from their posts of vantage.Climbing upward amongst the crags, they faced at closest range thedeadly aim of the cross-bow men. Backward they fell by scores, theirbodies crushing down those below them. Not a dozen came to grips withthe archers. Of these the leader had his great sword thrust aside byCedr
ic's bow, then was seized about the waist, lifted from the earth andthrown to the rocks below where he lay still with broken back.
With the fall of Gruffud, our men set up a mighty shout, and pressed theWelsh ever the harder. The deadly bolts still poured down from Cedric'svantage ground, but shifted ever their direction as we drove the enemybefore us. The yells of the Welshmen, which had been those of victoryand triumph, now changed to cries of despair. Hundreds turned and fled;and of these many cast down their weapons that they might run thefaster. Soon the downward pathway ahead of us was filled with fugitives,and only a few bands of desperate warriors fought on, preferring deathto such a defeat after victory had been almost within their grasp.
With the pass open before us, we paused not to pursue the Welsh into therocky and wooded fastnesses where they had fled. Taking up our sorelywounded in such litters as we could hastily form, and those with lessgrave hurts behind the other horsemen, we reformed our column and rodeaway down the broad valley toward the Marches and the goodly fortress ofWenderley that Sir John Clarendon held for the King.
When the moon rose at the ninth hour of the evening of that day the LordHigh Constable stood in the courtyard at Wenderley, surrounded by thelords and barons of his expedition and of the castle garrison. Hiswounds had been bathed and bandaged, but his face was white with thebloodletting and the fatigues of the day so that his friends were urginghim to seek his rest. Yet for the time he put away their counsel,declaring that one duty yet remained. Young Geoffrey of Carleton and Iwith Cedric, my squire, had been summoned before him.
"Kneel down," he commanded, sternly. We obeyed in silence, and he drewhis sword from its sheath and thrice struck the young Lord of Carletonlightly on the shoulder.
"Rise, Sir Geoffrey of Carleton," he said, "I dub thee knight. Be thouever faithful, true and valorous as thou hast been this day."
Then I also received the strokes of the sword and words were pronouncedthat made me a knight and chevalier in verity.
Lastly, and to my great amaze, I heard the words:
"Rise, Sir Cedric De La Roche. I dub thee Knight of the Crag. The deviceon thy shield shall be an eagle in token of the spot where thy resourcechanged defeat to victory. Be thou ever faithful, true and valorous asthou hast been this day, and England hath gained a stout defender andKing Richard of the Lion Heart a worthy support to his throne."