CHAPTER XLV

A FRENCH ARMAMENT

Louis of France, after being so roughly handled by William de Collingham and the sturdy patriots who followed that knight’s banner that he turned pale at the thought of the injury done to his dignity, embarked in haste and confusion, reached the French coast sea-sick, but in safety, and hastened, with visions of a coronation at Westminster, to the court of Paris. But the result was not quite satisfactory. Indeed, he found his royal father in no mood to grant the assistance which he required to complete the conquest of England. Philip Augustus naturally held the papal power in such dread, since the humiliating close of his quarrel with the pope about his marriage with the beautiful Agnes de Méranie, that he protested against being mixed up with the business so distinctly condemned by the holy see. However, he pointed out that, though his hands were tied, there was no particular reason why Blanche of Castile should not aid her husband to the utmost of her power, and hinted that he had no objection to furnish the means of hiring warriors and freighting ships. A word, says the proverb, is sufficient to the wise. Blanche took the hint, and--perhaps without even for the time neglecting her maternal duties to the young St. Louis, the eldest of what Fuller calls “that princely quaternion of brothers which exceeded each other in some quality: Louis the holiest, Alphonso the subtlest, Charles the stoutest, and Robert the proudest”--applied herself, with characteristic energy, to the task of fitting out an armament powerful enough to finish the work which with such high hopes her husband had boldly begun.

The prince, however, did not linger in France. Ere the truce agreed to with Pembroke had expired he was on the sea. Attacked furiously on his voyage by the ships of the Cinque Ports, he lost several of his vessels, but personally escaped all harm, and, landing at Sandwich, he, enraged at the Cinque Ports, burned that town, which enjoyed the reputation of being the first place in England at which ships were built, and then marching to Dover, he made a second attempt to take the castle. But this attempt proved as unsuccessful as the first had done, and, finding Hubert de Burgh still obstinate, Louis abandoned the enterprise, and proceeded to London, where, however, his reception was infinitely less enthusiastic than it had been on that too-memorable day of June when the citizens shouted “Chaire Basileus!” and where, indeed, in spite of Constantine Fitzarnulph, there was at work that dangerous spirit of discontent which is the parent of popular insurrections.

Meanwhile, Blanche of Castile was all activity and determination in promoting the objects of her absent husband, and at Calais a fleet of eighty large ships and a great number of small vessels was equipped under the eye of Eustace the Monk. The work, however, notwithstanding Blanche’s energy and Eustace’s experience, went on slowly, and it was not till the day preceding the Feast of St. Bartholomew that everything was ready, and the military force, consisting of three hundred knights and many thousands of ordinary fighting men, embarked with large anticipations. Indeed, they might, from all they heard, entertain hopes of rivalling the achievements of the Norman adventurers of a hundred and fifty years earlier, of whom it is written that “men who had crossed the sea in the quilted frock and with the dark wooden bow of foot soldiers appeared upon war horses and girded with the knightly baldric to the eyes of the new recruits who crossed the sea after them; and he who had come over a poor knight soon had his own banner and his company of men-at-arms, whose rallying cry was his name; so that the drovers of Normandy and the weavers of Flanders with a little courage and good fortune soon became in England great men, illustrious barons, and their names, base or obscure on one side of the Channel, were noble and glorious on the other.” No wonder that, with such encouraging examples before their eyes, the recruits of Blanche of Castile were enthusiastic and eager.

On the day before the feast of St. Bartholomew the French armament left Calais, and never, since he left his monastery in Flanders to adopt the life of a sea-rover, had Eustace the Monk felt more in his element; never, since Robert Fitzwalter and Sayer de Quency reached Paris to offer Louis a crown, had Blanche of Castile seen so fair a prospect of sitting, by her husband’s side, on her maternal grandsire’s throne. It was, in truth, a noble armament, with a magnificent display of painted shields and gorgeous banners, and much feudal pomp to strike the eye and impress the imagination; and Eustace the Monk was in great glee as he put to sea, with a fair, swelling wind which rapidly carried him towards the English coast, his own ship leading the van, and guiding the others on their way to the land which they looked on as their prey.

Next day, however, when their voyage seemed most prosperous, and all on board were rejoicing in the prospect of ere long being in London, and ready to march at the bidding of their Lord Louis, and when they were endeavouring to make the estuary of the Thames, and sail up the river, the watch stationed on the mast of Eustace’s ship suddenly shouted aloud.

“What is it?” cried Eustace, eagerly.

“I spy a ship, and it appears to me to be an Englishman,” answered the watch.

“Are there more than one?” inquired Eustace, with an air of indifference.

“Ho!” cried the watch, after a pause, “I see two, three, four, and so many, God help me, there must be twenty!”

Eustace the Monk laughed scornfully, and made a gesture which expressed lofty contempt of such foes.

“Doubtless,” observed he, “they are the mariners of the Cinque Ports; these English wretches are on their way to Calais. But they are not worthy of our thoughts, and they will find that it is of no use; for the Calesians have been forewarned against them, and forewarned is forearmed. So on to London; and Montjoie, St. Denis! for us and our good Lord Louis.”

And as Eustace spake, soldiers and sailors with one accord raised a long and deafening cheer which passed from ship to ship.

But ere that cheer died away the scene had very considerably changed, for the fleet of which the monk-pirate had spoken so contemptuously was bearing down before the wind on the French armament, as the hawk does upon the quarry.

Eustace grew pale.