CHAPTER LIII

THE INCURSION

It was, as I have intimated, late in the month of July, when the Prince of Wales, marching out of Bordeaux, ascended the Garonne as far as Agen, and then, turning to the left, overran the provinces of Quercy, Limousin, and Auvergne, sparing not the country; for the object of his incursion was to weaken the French by destroying their resources, and thus bring the war to a speedy conclusion.

Rich and fertile as ever the sun shone on looked the land through which the prince rode in hostile array. It was summer, and the days were long, and bright, and merry. The harvest was well-nigh ready for the sickle. The corn was waving in the fields; the grapes were swelling on the stem; the fruit was reddening on the bough. But the invaders were in no mood to spare either corn, or grapes, or fruit. The harvest was trodden down by the horsemen; the villages and farm-houses were given to the flames; the very cattle on the hills were slaughtered; and every man who was thought rich enough to pay a ransom was taken prisoner, to be carried to Bordeaux. All this time the prince rode on at his ease, and without any opposition. When he entered any town which was well provisioned, the English rested some days to refresh themselves; and, ere taking their departure, they staved the heads of the wine-casks that were full, and burnt the wheat and oats, so that nothing was left for the enemy. It was not the Prince of Wales whom the French had to blame for all this; for their real enemies were the chiefs of the House of Valois, whom they had, in defiance of King Edward's claims, too readily recognised as their sovereigns.

Great, meanwhile, was the terror of the inhabitants. The people of Montpellier fled to Avignon to place themselves under the protection of the Pope. Trembling for his own safety, the Pope ordered his palace to be fortified and his gates to be covered with iron, and, hoping to influence the invaders, sent, offering money, to the prince to spare Perigord.

"My father," answered the prince, "has plenty of money, and does not want yours. But I will do no more than what I came to perform, namely, to chastise those who are in rebellion against our just rights."

Pursuing his career of devastation, the Prince of Wales, emboldened by the success of his operations, penetrated into Berry, a province in the very heart of France. Reaching the city of Bourges, he skirmished at the gates, but without taking the place, and then passed to Vierzon, which he took by storm. But weeks had now elapsed since his departure from Bordeaux, and his incursion was talked of far and wide; and, while resting his men for three days at Vierzon, he learned, not without some slight apprehension, that John of Valois--that valiant man of war--had reached Chartres, and was about to take the field at the head of a great army, with the object of intercepting his march and giving him battle.

Not an hour did the prince lose in forming a decision as to what was to be done at this crisis. Having held a council of war, he immediately resolved to leave Vierzon, and to return, without waste of time, to Bordeaux by way of Touraine and Poitou, and with this view he marched towards Romorantin, a considerable town on the Saudre, where there was a strong castle, held for John of Valois by two warriors of renown, known as the Lord of Boucicault and the Hermit of Chaumont. The torn of Romorantin, when attacked by the English van, yielded without a struggle. But this was not enough; and the prince, coming up, expressed his determination to obtain possession of the castle.

"Go," said he to Sir John Chandos, "and hold a parley with the garrison."

Without delay the knight proceeded to the barriers of the castle, and no sooner had he intimated that he wished to speak with those who were in command than the Lord of Boucicault and the Hermit of Chaumont came down to the bars, and declared that they were at his service.

"Gentlemen," said Chandos, saluting them in due form, "I am sent to you by my lord the Prince of Wales, who wishes to behave courteously towards his enemies, and says that, if you will surrender this castle and yourselves, he will show you mercy and give you good company."

"On my faith," replied the Lord of Boucicault, shaking his head and smiling, "we have no sort of inclination to accept such terms, nor to commit such an act of folly as surrendering without any necessity; and, moreover, we are able and determined to defend ourselves."

On hearing this, Chandos returned to the prince; and, on learning what was the answer, the prince ordered his men to their quarters, that they might be ready on the morrow to commence the assault. Accordingly, the marshal's trumpets having sounded at sunrise, the men-at-arms prepared themselves for action, and the archers advanced under their respective banners, and made a sharp attack on the castle. Indeed, they brought down so many enemies, and their aim was so unerring, that scarcely a French warrior ventured to show himself on the battlements; and some got on hurdles and doors, with pickaxes and mattocks in their hands, to undermine the walls. No sooner, however, did the French become aware of what was going on at the foot of the walls, than they commenced flinging large stones and pots of hot lime on the assailants; and, though the attack was resolutely persevered in, so little advantage was, for some time, gained, that the besiegers began to lose heart. At length the prince came to direct the assault in person, and so mightily encouraged the English by his voice and example, that they redoubled their exertions. Still the resistance was obstinate; and there were some men of experience who evinced an inclination to give up an enterprise likely to cost more time than the prize was worth, when an event occurred which led to a total change in the mode of attack, and brought matters to a conclusion.

I have mentioned, in the chapter telling of my arrival at Bordeaux, that one of the squires who attended the Prince of Wales at the monastery of St. Andrew, in that city, was named Bernard; and this squire, owing to the services he had rendered, was held in high esteem by his master. Now it happened that, when the castle of Romorantin was being assaulted, Bernard, while standing near the ditch by the prince's side, was struck by a stone thrown from the castle, and fell dead on the spot.

"By good St. George!" exclaimed the prince, "I swear not to be trifled with in this wise. I will not move hence until I have the castle and all in my possession."

Some of the wise and prudent shook their heads; but at this moment I, Arthur Winram, who had at the time dismounted near the spot, stepped forward.

"My lord," said I, addressing the prince, "it seems to me that this is an occasion on which we might for ever use lances and arrows in vain; and I put it to your highness if it would not be well to order bombards to be brought forward, and aquereaux and Greek fire to be shot from them."

"Right," replied the prince, after a moment's reflection; "let it be done"; and forthwith, to the consternation of the garrison, the bombards made their appearance.

The experiment was even more successful than I had anticipated. Rapidly the bombards did their work. Very soon the lower court of the castle was in a blaze; and the fire, reaching a large tower that was covered with thatch, gave indications not to be mistaken that it would speedily envelope the whole castle. Amazed and terrified, the garrison uttered cries of consternation, and the Lord of Boucicault and the Hermit of Chaumont, perceiving that they must either surrender or perish in the flames, no longer hesitated. Coming down, they yielded themselves to the prince, who, while allowing the other knights and squires in the castle to go at liberty, made the lord and the hermit ride with him and attend him as his prisoners, and, leaving Romorantin, marched forward as before, ravaging the country, in the direction of Anjou, and Touraine, and Poitou.

But, ere the prince could reach Poictiers, the danger which had for some time been threatening his little army of invaders was drawing near; and rumour brought vague intelligence that John of Valois was at hand.