It is time, however, that we quit this subject and speak of othermatters. Just twenty years later, on one August day in the year ofgrace 1346, Master John Copeland--as men now called the Brabant page,now secretary to the Queen of England--brought his mistress theunhandsome tidings that David Bruce had invaded her realm with fortythousand Scots to back him. The Brabanter found the Queen in companywith the kingdom's arbitress--Dame Catherine de Salisbury, whom KingEdward, third of that name to reign in Britain, and now warring inFrance, very notoriously adored and obeyed.
This king, indeed, had been despatched into France chiefly, theynarrate, to release the Countess' husband, William de Montacute, fromthe French prison of the Chatelet. You may appraise her dominion bythis fact: chaste and shrewd, she had denied all to King Edward, and inconsequence he could deny her nothing; so she sent him to fetch backher husband, whom she almost loved. That armament had sailed fromSouthampton on Saint George's day.
These two women, then, shared the Brabanter's execrable news. AlreadyNorthumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham were the broken meats of KingDavid.
The Countess presently exclaimed: "Let me pass, sir! My place is nothere."
Philippa said, half hopefully, "Do you forsake Sire Edward, Catherine?"
"DO YOU FORSAKE SIRE EDWARD, CATHERINE?" _Painting byWilliam Hurd Lawrence_]
"Madame and Queen," the Countess answered, "in this world every manmust scratch his own back. My lord has entrusted to me his castle ofWark, his fiefs in Northumberland. These, I hear, are being laidwaste. Were there a thousand men-at-arms left in England I would sayfight. As it is, our men are yonder in France and the island isdefenceless. Accordingly I ride for the north to make what terms I maywith the King of Scots."
Now you might have seen the Queen's eyes flame. "Undoubtedly," saidshe, "in her lord's absence it is the wife's part to defend hisbelongings. And my lord's fief is England. I bid you God-speed,Catherine." And when the Countess was gone, Philippa turned, her roundface all flushed. "She betrays him! she compounds with the Scot!Mother of Christ, let me not fail!"
"A ship must be despatched to bid Sire Edward return," said thesecretary. "Otherwise all England is lost."
"Not so, John Copeland! Let Sire Edward conquer in France, if such bethe Trinity's will. Always he has dreamed of that, and if I bade himreturn now he would be vexed."
"The disappointment of the King," John Copeland considered, "is alesser evil than allowing all of us to be butchered."
"Not to me, John Copeland," the Queen said.
Now came many lords into the chamber, seeking Madame Philippa. "Wemust make peace with the Scottish rascal!--England is lost!--A shipmust be sent entreating succor of Sire Edward!" So they shouted.
"Messieurs," said Queen Philippa, "who commands here? Am I, then, somewoman of the town?"
Ensued a sudden silence. John Copeland, standing by the seawardwindow, had picked up a lute and was fingering the instrumenthalf-idly. Now the Marquess of Hastings stepped from the throng."Pardon, Highness. But the occasion is urgent."
"The occasion is very urgent, my lord," the Queen assented, deep inmeditation.
John Copeland flung back his head and without prelude began to carollustily.
Sang John Copeland:
"_There are fairer men than Atys, And many are wiser than he-- How should I heed them?--whose fate is Ever to serve and to be Ever the lover of Atys, And die that Atys may dine, Live if he need me--Then heed me, And speed me, (the moment is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!_
"_Fair is the form unbeholden, And golden the glory of thee Whose voice is the voice of a vision, Whose face is the foam of the sea, And the fall of whose feet is the flutter Of breezes in birches and pine, When thou drawest near me, to hear me, And cheer me, (the moment is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!_"
I must tell you that the Queen shivered, as with extreme cold. Shegazed toward John Copeland wonderingly. The secretary was as of stone,fretting at his lute-strings, head downcast. Then in a while the Queenturned to Hastings.
"The occasion is very urgent, my lord," the Queen assented. "Thereforeit is my will that to-morrow one and all your men be mustered atBlackheath. We will take the field without delay against the King ofScots."
The riot began anew. "Madness!" they shouted; "lunar madness! We cando nothing until the King return with our army!"
"In his absence," the Queen said, "I command here."
"You are not Regent," the Marquess said. Then he cried, "This is theRegent's affair!"
"Let the Regent be fetched," Dame Philippa said, very quietly.Presently they brought in her son, Messire Lionel, now a boy of eightyears, and Regent, in name at least, of England.
Both the Queen and the Marquess held papers. "Highness," Lord Hastingsbegan, "for reasons of state, which I need not here explain, thisdocument requires your signature. It is an order that a ship bedespatched in pursuit of the King. Your Highness may remember the ponyyou admired yesterday?" The Marquess smiled ingratiatingly. "Justhere, your Highness--a cross-mark."
"The dappled one?" said the Regent; "and all for making a little mark?"The boy jumped for the pen.
"Lionel," said the Queen, "you are Regent of England, but you are alsomy son. If you sign that paper you will beyond doubt get the pony, butyou will not, I think, care to ride him. You will not care to sit downat all, Lionel."
The Regent considered. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said in theultimate, "but I do not like ponies any more. Do I sign here, mother?"
Philippa handed the Marquess a subscribed order to muster the Englishforces at Blackheath; then another, closing the English ports. "Mylords," the Queen said, "this boy is the King's vicar. In defying him,you defy the King. Yes, Lionel, you have fairly earned a pot of jamfor supper."
Then Hastings went away without speaking. That night assembled at hislodgings, by appointment, Viscount Heringaud, Adam Frere, the Marquessof Orme, Lord Stourton, the Earls of Neville and Gage, and Sir ThomasRokeby. These seven found a long table there littered with pens andparchment; to the rear of it, a lackey behind him, sat the Marquess ofHastings, meditative over a cup of Bordeaux.
Presently Hastings said: "My friends, in creating our womankind theMaker of us all was beyond doubt actuated by laudable and cogentreasons; so that I can merely lament my inability to fathom thesereasons. I shall obey the Queen faithfully, since if I did otherwiseSire Edward would have my head off within a day of his return. Inconsequence, I do not consider it convenient to oppose his vicar.To-morrow I shall assemble the tatters of troops which remain to us,and to-morrow we march northward to inevitable defeat. To-night I amsending a courier into Northumberland. He is an obliging person, andwould convey--to cite an instance--eight letters quite as blithely asone."
Each man glanced furtively about him. England was in a panic by this,and knew itself to lie before the Bruce defenceless. The all-powerfulCountess of Salisbury had compounded with King David; now Hastings too,their generalissimo, compounded. What the devil! loyalty was asonorous word, and so was patriotism, but, after all, one had estatesin the north.
The seven wrote in silence. When they had ended, I must tell you thatHastings gathered the letters into a heap, and without glancing at thesuperscriptures, handed all these letters to the attendant lackey."For the courier," he said.
The fellow left the apartment. Presently there was a clatter of hoofswithout, and Hastings rose. He was a gaunt, terrible old man,gray-bearded, and having high eyebrows that twitched and jerked.
"We have saved our precious skins," said he. "Hey, you Iscariots! Icommend your common-sense, messieurs, and I request you to withdraw.Even a damned rogue such as I has need of a cleaner atmosphere when hewould breathe." The seven went away without further speech.
They narrate that next day the troops marched for Durham, where theQueen took up her quarters. The Bruce had pillaged
and burned his wayto a place called Beaurepair, within three miles of the city. He sentword to the Queen that if her men were willing to come forth from thetown he would abide and give them battle.
She replied that she accepted his offer, and that the barons wouldgladly risk their lives for the realm of their lord the King. TheBruce grinned and kept silence, since he had in his pocket letters fromnine-tenths of them protesting they would do nothing of the sort.
There is comedy here. On one side you have a horde of half-nakedsavages, a shrewd master holding them in leash till the moment beauspicious; on the other, a housewife at the head of a tiny forcelieutenanted by perjurers, by men already purchased. God knows thedreams she had of miraculous victories, what time her barons traffickedin secret with the Bruce. On the Saturday before Michaelmas, when theopposing armies marshalled in the Bishop's Park, at Auckland, it isrecorded that not a captain on either side believed the day to bepregnant with battle. There would be a decent counterfeit ofresistance; afterward the little English army would vanish pell-mell,and the Bruce would be master of the island. The farce wasprearranged, the actors therein were letter-perfect.
That morning at daybreak John Copeland came to the Queen's tent, andinformed her quite explicitly how matters stood. He had been drinkingovernight with Adam Frere and the Earl of Gage, and after the thirdbottle had found them candid. "Madame and Queen, we are betrayed. TheMarquess of Hastings, our commander, is inexplicably smitten with afever. He will not fight to-day. Not one of your lords will fightto-day." Master Copeland laid bare such part of the scheme asyesterday's conviviality had made familiar. "Therefore I counselretreat. Let the King be summoned out of France."
But Queen Philippa shook her head, as she cut up squares of toast anddipped them in milk for the Regent's breakfast. "Sire Edward would bevexed. He has always intended to conquer France. I shall visit theMarquess as soon as Lionel is fed--do you know, John Copeland, I amanxious about Lionel; he is irritable and coughed five times during thenight--and then I will attend to this affair."
She found the Marquess in bed, groaning, the coverlet pulled up to hischin. "Pardon, Highness," said Lord Hastings, "but I am an ill man. Icannot rise from this couch."
"I do not question the gravity of your disorder," the Queen retorted,"since it is well known that the same illness brought about the deathof Iscariot. Nevertheless, I bid you get up and lead our troopsagainst the Scot."
Now the hand of the Marquess veiled his countenance. But, "I am an illman," he muttered, doggedly. "I cannot rise from this couch."
There was a silence.
"My lord," the Queen presently began, "without is an army prepared--ay,and quite able--to defend our England. The one requirement of thisarmy is a leader. Afford them that, my lord--ah, I know that our peersare sold to the Bruce, yet our yeomen at least are honest. Give them,then, a leader, and they cannot but conquer, since God also is honestand incorruptible. Pardieu! a woman might lead these men, and leadthem to victory!"
Hastings answered: "I am an ill man. I cannot rise from this couch."
You saw that Philippa was not beautiful. You perceived that to thecontrary she was superb, saw the soul of the woman aglow, gilding themediocrities of color and curve as a conflagration does a hovel.
"There is no man left in England," said the Queen, "since Sire Edwardwent into France. Praise God, I am his wife!" And she was gonewithout flurry.
Through the tent-flap Hastings beheld all that which followed. TheEnglish force was marshalled in four divisions, each commanded by abishop and a baron. You could see the men fidgeting, puzzled by thedelay; as a wind goes about a corn-field, vague rumors were going aboutthose wavering spears. Toward them rode Philippa, upon a whitepalfrey, alone and perfectly tranquil. Her eight lieutenants were nowgathered about her in voluble protestation, and she heard them out.Afterward she spoke, without any particular violence, as one mightorder a strange cur from his room. Then the Queen rode on, as thoughthese eight declaiming persons had ceased to be of interest, and reinedup before her standard-bearer, and took the standard in her hand. Shebegan again to speak, and immediately the army was in an uproar; thebarons were clustering behind her, in stealthy groups of two or threewhisperers each; all were in the greatest amazement and knew not whatto do; but the army was shouting the Queen's name.
"Now is England shamed," said Hastings, "since a woman alone dares toencounter the Scot. She will lead them into battle--and by God! thereis no braver person under heaven than yonder Dutch Frau! Friend David,I perceive that your venture is lost, for those men would within themoment follow her to storm hell if she desired it."
He meditated and more lately shrugged. "And so would I," said Hastings.
A little afterward a gaunt and haggard old man, bare-headed and veryhastily dressed, reined his horse by the Queen's side. "Madame andQueen," said Hastings, "I rejoice that my recent illness is departed.I shall, by God's grace, on this day drive the Bruce from England."
Philippa was not given to verbiage. Doubtless she had her emotions,but none was visible upon the honest face; yet one plump hand hadfallen into the big-veined hand of Hastings. "I welcome back thegallant gentleman of yesterday. I was about to lead your army, myfriend, since there was no one else to do it, but I was hideouslyafraid. At bottom every woman is a coward."
"You were afraid to do it," said the Marquess, "but you were going todo it, because there was no one else to do it! Ho, madame! had I anarmy of such cowards I would drive the Scot not past the Border butbeyond the Orkneys."
The Queen then said, "But you are unarmed."
"Highness," he replied, "it is surely apparent that I, who have playedthe traitor to two monarchs within the same day, cannot with eitherdecency or comfort survive that day." He turned upon the lords andbishops twittering about his horse's tail. "You merchandise, get backto your stations, and if there was ever an honest woman in any of yourfamilies, the which I doubt, contrive to get yourselves killed thisday, as I mean to do, in the cause of the honestest and bravest womanour time has known." Immediately the English forces marched towardMerrington.
Philippa returned to her pavilion and inquired for John Copeland. Hehad ridden off, she was informed, armed, in company with five of herimmediate retainers. She considered this strange, but made no comment.
You picture her, perhaps, as spending the morning in prayer, inbeatings upon her breast, and in lamentations. Philippa did nothing ofthe sort. As you have heard, she considered her cause to be soclamantly just that to expatiate to the Holy Father upon its meritswere an impertinence; it was not conceivable that He would fail her;and in any event, she had in hand a deal of sewing which requiredimmediate attention. Accordingly she settled down to her needlework,while the Regent of England leaned his head against her knee, and hismother told him that ageless tale of Lord Huon, who in a wood nearBabylon encountered the King of Faery, and subsequently stripped theatrocious Emir of both beard and daughter. All this the industriouswoman narrated in a low and pleasant voice, while the wide-eyed Regentattended and at the proper intervals gulped his cough-mixture.
You must know that about noon Master John Copeland came into the tent."We have conquered," he said. "Now, by the Face!"--thus, scoffingly,he used her husband's favorite oath--"now, by the Face! there was nevera victory more complete! The Scottish army is as those sands whichdried the letters King Ahasuerus gave the admirable Esther!"
"I rejoice," the Queen said, looking up from her sewing, "that we haveconquered, though in nature I expected nothing else-- Oh, horrible!"She sprang to her feet with a cry of anguish: and here in little youhave the entire woman; the victory of her armament was to her a thingof course, since her cause was just, whereas the loss of two frontteeth by John Copeland was a genuine calamity.
He drew her toward the tent-flap, which he opened. Without was amounted knight, in full panoply, his arms bound behind him, surroundedby the Queen's five retainers. "In the rout I took him," said JohnCopeland
; "though, as my mouth witnesses, I did not find this DavidBruce a tractable prisoner."
"Is that, then, the King of Scots?" Philippa demanded, as she mixedsalt and water for a mouth-wash; and presently: "Sire Edward should bepleased, I think. Will he not love me a little now, John Copeland?"
John Copeland lifted either plump hand toward his lips. "He could notchoose," John Copeland said; "madame, he could no more choose but loveyou than I could choose."
Philippa sighed. Afterward she bade John Copeland rinse his gums andthen take his prisoner to Hastings. He told her the Marquess was dead,slain by the Knight of Liddesdale. "That is a pity," the Queen said;and more lately: "There is left alive in England but one man to whom Idare entrust the keeping of the King of Scots. My barons are sold tohim; if I retain Messire David by me, one or another lord will engineerhis escape within the week, and Sire Edward will be vexed. Yet listen,John--" She unfolded her plan.
"I have long known," he said, when she had done, "that in all the worldthere was no lady more lovable. Twenty years I have loved you, myQueen, and yet it is but to-day I perceive that in all the world thereis no lady more wise than you."
Philippa touched his cheek, maternally. "Foolish boy! You tell me theKing of Scots has an arrow-wound in his nose? I think a bread poulticewould be best." ... So then John Copeland left the tent and presentlyrode away with his company.
Philippa saw that the Regent had his dinner, and afterward mounted herwhite palfrey and set out for the battle-field. There the Earl ofNeville, as second in command, received her with great courtesy. Godhad shown to her Majesty's servants most singular favor despite thecalculations of reasonable men--to which, she might remember, he hadthat morning taken the liberty to assent--some fifteen thousand Scotswere slain. True, her gallant general was no longer extant, thoughthis was scarcely astounding when one considered the fact that he hadvoluntarily entered the melee quite unarmed. A touch of age, perhaps;Hastings was always an eccentric man; and in any event, as epilogue,this Neville congratulated the Queen that--by blind luck, he was forcedto concede--her worthy secretary had made a prisoner of the ScottishKing. Doubtless, Master Copeland was an estimable scribe, and yet--Ah, yes, he quite followed her Majesty--beyond doubt, the wardage of aking was an honor not lightly to be conferred. Oh yes, he understood;her Majesty desired that the office should be given some person ofrank. And pardie! her Majesty was in the right. Eh? said the Earl ofNeville.