Part 15
The good knight was dangerously wounded some years later at the taking of Brescia. This city had opened its gates to the victorious French three years before, but had been delivered into the hands of the Venetians through the treachery of an Italian count, who resided within its walls. As soon as the king's nephew, Gaston, Duke de Nemours[22] heard of this, he marched forty leagues in the depth of winter, in the hope of recovering the town, having already sent Bayard on in advance. The day after his arrival, they took possession of the citadel, which still held out for the French, and the next day they agreed to take the town by assault. The road leading down from the citadel to the rampart was very slippery on account of the heavy rains, and the duke was obliged to take off his shoes to prevent himself from falling; still he went bravely on, followed by the good knight and his men-at-arms. When the Venetians saw Bayard at the first rampart, they tried all they could to kill him; because, they said, if he were once overcome the others would never dare approach. Bayard steadily gained his way, however, and cheered his men on to victory until he passed the rampart, and a thousand of the French were enabled to make their entrance into the town. But in doing this he received a pike-wound in his thigh; the pike going in so hard that the end of it broke, and the iron was left in the flesh. Bayard told the captain beside him that he might lead off his men now that the town was won, but that he should never pass from the place again, and reckoned himself a dead man.
The knowledge that the Chevalier was severely wounded only served to make the French captains press on the assault with greater fury, and they fought their way into the public place, or square, where they killed many of the Venetians, and obliged the others to lay down their arms. The good knight was left with two of his archers, who tried to staunch the blood that flowed from his wounds. When they saw that all the strongholds in the town were gained, they sought around until they found a wooden plank, or door, and on this they carried him into the best looking house they could see. This house belonged to an Italian gentleman, who not very courageously had fled for safety to a monastery, and had left his wife and daughters in the town. The archers knocked at the door, and were allowed to carry in their burden, and they afterwards stationed themselves outside to prevent the enemy from entering. The Italian lady received Bayard very kindly; she was grieved to see him suffering so much, and went herself with one of the archers to fetch a good surgeon to dress his wound.
It was nearly five weeks before he could rise from his bed, and during that time he had sent his _maître d'hôtel_ to seek for the lady's husband, so that the whole family might live happily together under his protection, their house being the only one in Brescia that was neither sacked nor pillaged. And he said afterwards that although he had endured the greatest pain from his wound, he had never once been unhappy, because he had been with friends; it only vexed him to think that the French were getting nearer the Spaniards every day, and that a battle would soon take place, in which he would not be able to assist; and he used to tell the Duke de Nemours, who came daily to see him whilst he remained in the town, because he loved him so much, that he would rather be borne to the battle-field in a litter than not be present at all. For it was the great object of the king of France to drive the Spaniards out of Lombardy, since he knew that as long as they were roving about in Italy, his duchy of Milan would never be secure.
One day Bayard found, to his joyful surprise, that he could walk once more, and his surgeon gave him leave to start at the expiration of two days for the French camp. According to the custom of the victorious French, the whole family were in reality the prisoners of Bayard, and the Italian lady was in great trouble of mind, thinking that he would demand at least ten or twelve thousand crowns for their ransom, which was more than they were able to pay. So on the morning of the day when the good knight was to depart after dinner, she came to him, and knelt down before him. Bayard would not suffer her to kneel, so rising, she presented him with a purse which contained 1,500 ducats. When she had opened it, he laughed: "How many are there, madam?" he asked. The lady thought that he was laughing because there were so few, and began to make excuses; but when the Chevalier found out that she wanted to pay her ransom, he declared that he would take nothing from her at all; that the welcome she had given him was worth more than a hundred thousand crowns, and that he should feel himself bound in gratitude to serve her until the end of his days. It was so unusual for the French to release their prisoners without a ransom that the Italian lady was deeply moved; she went down on her knees, and kissing the hand of the good knight, she said, "Flower of chivalry, may the Lord reward you for what you have done!" She pressed him so hard however to accept the purse that Bayard consented to take it out of esteem and respect for her, and her two daughters then came to bid him farewell. The damsels were very beautiful; they were skilled in embroidery, and could sing and play the lute and spinet, and many a time the Chevalier, as he lay writhing in pain, had been cheered by their music. When they came in, they too would have knelt to thank him for his kindness and protection, but he made them rise, and dividing the ducats into three parts, he gave each of them a thousand for a marriage portion, and the five hundred that remained he gave to their mother for the relief of the religious houses in Brescia, which had been plundered by the French. The maidens now produced the parting gifts they had prepared; the Chevalier received them very graciously, and said that he should wear them as long as he lived; one was a bracelet made of gold and silver thread, and the other a purse of crimson worked in gold. Then they all touched hands after the fashion of Italy, and the good knight bade them farewell kneeling, and they all wept bitterly when he rode away from the door, they were so grieved to think they should never see him again.
When Bayard reached the camp of the Duke de Nemours, he found that his countrymen had arrived only that day before Ravenna, and that the enemy were six miles off, but the next day they came nearer by two miles. The night but one before the famous battle of Ravenna, several captains were at supper with the Duke de Nemours, talking the while of the contest which was so soon to take place. Bayard was amongst the guests, and the Duke told him that as the Spaniards had a great respect for his talents, and were very anxious to know if he were in the camp, he thought it would be advisable for him to attempt some skirmish with them the next day, just to see how well they could fight. The good knight was delighted with the idea; "Monseigneur," he replied, "I promise you on my word of honour that, God helping, I shall see them so close before noon, that I shall be able to bring you news."
Now the Baron of Bearne, the Duke's lieutenant, coveted the glory of being the first to attack the enemy, and although the Chevalier was known to rise very early in the morning, he thought that he would rise earlier still, and thus steal a march upon him. So as soon as soon as the supper was ended, he went to tell all his followers to be ready armed before break of day, charging them also to keep the matter a profound secret.
When the good knight returned to his tent, he also arranged with some of the chief captains how the attack should be made, and then, they all went to rest until the trumpet should sound to awaken them at dawn.
It was very early the next morning when they set out, carrying with them the banners of the Duke of Lorraine unfurled, in the hope that they would bring them good luck. They did not, of course, know that the Baron of Bearne had already gone the same path; but the sound of weapons clashing, and of horses' hoofs, soon fell upon their ears; the baron had indeed crossed the canal which lay between the two armies, and had advanced to the enemy's camp; but he had been discomfited, and was forced to retire.
When Bayard saw that Neapolitans and Spaniards were boldly crossing the canal in pursuit of the fugitives, he called to his comrades to fly to the aid of their countrymen, and rushed before any into the midst of a troop of one hundred and twenty men. His comrades loved him too well not to follow him, and he chased the enemy back right into the camp, and overthrew there numbers of their tents, although the Spaniards were all astir and ready for battle. When he thought he had aroused them sufficiently, he sounded the trumpet for a retreat, and arrived in the camp of the Duke de Nemours with the news he had promised to bring him, but without having lost a single man.
The Duke now assembled all the captains and knights, and told them, that his uncle the king desired that a battle should take place at once, because he had heard that the Venetians and Swiss were about to descend into the Duchy of Milan; and it was agreed that the French army should pass the bridge of boats across the canal, and attack the enemy on the morrow.
The next morning the Duke came out of his tent at sunrise. "Look, gentlemen!" he said to his companions, "how red the sun is!" And one of them, who was much beloved by him, replied, "Do you know, Monseigneur, what that signifies? That a great captain will fall to-day: it will be either you or Cardonna, the viceroy." The duke only laughed at his remark, and went to watch the army passing the bridge with Bayard and some other knights, while the Spaniards, in great alarm, hastened to put the whole of their troops in battle array.
Just as the duke was telling the good knight, that they might fall an easy prey to their enemies, if any harquebussiers were concealed thereabouts, a body of from twenty to thirty Spaniards appeared, amongst whom was Pedro de Pas. Bayard was the first to speak. "Gentlemen," said he, "you will linger about here like ourselves until the play begins. I entreat that not a harquebuss be fired on your part, and we will not fire upon you." Pedro de Pas then asked the name of the knight who had spoken, and was overjoyed to find that he was really in the company of the Chevalier du Bayard, who had gained so much renown in Naples.
The Duke de Nemours was a merciful man, and he offered to settle the quarrel by single combat with the viceroy, to spare the effusion of blood. His followers, however, thought that the risk was too great; and the army having crossed the canal by eight o'clock in the morning, the battle began. It lasted many hours, and was very terrible on both sides; and although the Spaniards were defeated, the French bought their victory very dearly, with the life of their brave and good young prince, Gaston of Nemours. For the prediction of his friend had indeed been fulfilled, and he lay among the slain! The good knight fought all through that long battle like a hero; he had gone in pursuit of the enemy, and came back to the field late in the afternoon, to find that the duke was dead.
A short time after this, the Venetians, the Swiss, and the army sent by the Pope pressed forward, and the French were soon obliged to retire out of Lombardy, only leaving garrisons in some of the strong castles. At Pavia, Bayard made himself very famous by defending a bridge of boats, during two hours against the Swiss; he had two horses killed under him, and received a severe wound in the shoulder before he would give way. His companions thought that his wound was mortal, though he declared it was nothing, and they staunched it with moss, which they tore off the stems of trees, and with linen which they tore from their shirts. The good knight did not recover for a very long time after the French army had recrossed the mountains, and he went to his uncle the Bishop of Grenoble, in whose palace he was lodged and watched over, "like the precious stone set in pure gold." And he was so ill that he thought to his sorrow that he should die in his bed, instead of closing his eyes for ever on the battle-field; but all the people of Grenoble prayed for him--his good uncle, nobles, merchants, monks, and nuns; there was not a voice that did not rise up in prayer to the Almighty for his recovery. And after a long while his strength and spirit returned to him, and he remained some months at Grenoble, greatly honoured for all the brave deeds he had achieved.
In the battle of Guinegatte, commonly called the battle of the Spurs, from the speed with which the French soldiers took flight, the Chevalier was made prisoner, but not until he had saved his countrymen from entire disgrace by his valour. Henry the Eighth was then at war with France, and Maximilian, Emperor of Germany, was serving in the army of the English monarch for the pay of a hundred crowns a day.
Before Henry and Maximilian had arrived in the English camp, the Earl of Shrewsbury had begun the siege of Perouane, a town on the borders of Picardy, close by Guinegatte. The besieged had defended themselves bravely, and the governor of the province had succeeded in forcing his way through the English camp, to bring them a large supply of bacon and gunpowder. He had got safely back again, when the French horsemen, who had advanced to protect him, were attacked suddenly by a body of English, whilst they were straying carelessly about without their helmets and cuirasses, because they were overpowered by the intense heat of the day. Thus it was that they took flight, and that several noblemen amongst them of high rank were made prisoners. Bayard retreated with great regret; he had only fourteen men-at-arms with him, and yet he often turned back and faced his enemies. At last they came to a little bridge, where only two horsemen could pass at a time, and below it there was a deep ditch full of water. The good knight then sent word to the camp, by an archer that he had arrested the enemy for at least half an hour, and that delay, would give the army time to get into order. The archer went straight to the camp, and Bayard was left with his few men to guard the bridge. He was soon surrounded on all sides, and advised his people to surrender; and when they were all secured, he rode towards an English gentleman, who, either wearied with the fight or oppressed by the heat, was resting beneath a tree. Bayard put his sword to his throat, and exclaimed, "Surrender, man-at-arms, or you are a dead man!" The gentleman, naturally wishing to save his life, surrendered, and asked the stranger who he was. "I am the Captain Bayard," replied the knight, "and now I surrender to you, and give you my sword to hold, and entreat you to conduct me to some place of safety, and to have the kindness to let me have my sword, if we meet with any Englishmen on our way, who may desire to kill me." The gentleman promised this, and they set off for the camp of King Henry, and had really to defend themselves more than once, upon the road thither.
Bayard remained in the tent of his prisoner, who treated him well, but on the fifth day of his captivity, he said to him, "My gentleman, I wish you would lead me in safety to the camp of the king, my master, for I am utterly tired of being here."
"How?" cried the other. "We have not yet agreed as to your ransom."
"To my ransom, indeed!" said the knight; "but it is rather for me to think of yours, since you are my prisoner; and if I surrendered to you it was only to save my life. My gentleman," continued he, "whether faith is kept with me, or not, I feel assured that in some way I shall fight with you by and by."
The gentleman did not quite relish the idea of a combat with the redoubtable Bayard, so he replied in courteous terms, that he only wished to do what was right in the affair, and would consult with his captains.
When the enemy knew that Bayard was safe in the camp, they were as much pleased as if they had won another victory. The Emperor of Germany sent for him to his tent.
"Captain Bayard, my friend," said he, "I have great pleasure in seeing you. Would that I had many men like you! I think in a little while I should be able to avenge myself of all the tricks, your master has played me in times gone by." Presently, he said to him, "Methinks we have been at war together before, and I remember to have heard that Bayard was one who never fled."
"Sire," replied the Good Knight promptly, "if I had fled I should not have been here."
Then bluff King Harry came up and said, "Truly, Monsieur de Bayard, if all men were like you, the siege which I have begun before this town, would soon be raised; but any way you are my prisoner."
"Sire," answered the Chevalier, "I do not own it, and yet I would fain believe yourself and the emperor."
The gentleman whose tent Bayard had shared now appeared, and related the whole affair; and there was a discussion, as to which was really the prisoner. The Emperor, whose advice governed the movements of the English army, at last decided in favour of Bayard, but acquitted both on account of their mutual courtesy; and King Henry said that the Good Knight might leave the camp, if he would promise on his word of honour to remain unarmed for six weeks. Bayard was very grateful, both to the emperor and to the king, and went to divert himself in the country, in the best manner he could until the six weeks were passed. During this time the King of England tried by various means, to attach him to his service, but his trouble was thrown away; it would have been impossible for the Chevalier to have entertained a disloyal thought.
Not long after this Louis the Twelfth died, and his cousin, Francis, Count of Angoulême, was declared King of France. Immediately after his coronation, the young king began to prepare secretly for the conquest of Milan, that duchy having lately returned to the allegiance of the Italian duke Sforza. Bayard was ordered to repair with three or four thousand men, to the borders of his native province of Dauphiné, and after performing several brave actions, he got down quietly into the plain of Piedmont. Prosper Colonna, the Pope's lieutenant, was there in the Castle of Carmaignolle. When he heard of the arrival of the Chevalier, he exclaimed, in a tone of extreme scorn, "That Bayard has crossed the mountains; I will take him as I would a pigeon in a cage!"
The other French captains arrived in the plain, and the Good Knight advised that they should rest their horses that night, and attack Colonna the next day at dawn in his castle.
They had a large piece of water to cross before they could get to the place; but they knew of a ford, and two or three hours after midnight they mounted their horses in silence, and set out on the road. Prosper was not alarmed, because he still thought that only Bayard was there with his company, and he would have remained at Carmaignolle, had he not received orders to change his quarters. He did not hurry himself in the least, and stopped on his journey to dine at a little town called Villefranche. When the French arrived at the castle, they found to their disappointment that Colonna was gone, and they all agreed to pursue him. The Seigneur d'Imbercourt was foremost in the troop; he soon reached the town; Colonna was already there, and his people shut the gates. The Good Knight came up in time however to gain them, and although the enemy gave the alarm to a body of three or four thousand Swiss, he made his way into the town, followed by his men-at-arms, and found the Italian commander seated at his dinner. Colonna was enraged at being thus captured, like "a pigeon in a cage" himself, instead of in battle; the Good Knight tried to cheer him up, and make the best of it, but the whole affair cost the signor, besides his liberty, 50,000 crowns worth of gold and silver plate, furniture, and money, and that was quite enough to make a man look sad. The French found a very large sum of money in the town, and nearly 700 beautiful coursers and Spanish horses.
Francis had already crossed the mountains which separate France from Italy. He was delighted to hear of the capture of Colonna, and soon waged the tremendous battle of Marignano with the Swiss, who were the partizans of Sforza and Colonna, and were indignant that Francis had succeeded in crossing the Alps. Marignano was situate about a league from the city of Milan. The Swiss were determined to defend the duchy to the last extremity, and had assembled a very large army. The battle began at four o'clock on a September afternoon in the year 1415, and was only discontinued when it was too dark to see to fight. The king passed the night in his armour on the carriage of a cannon, and was surprised at daybreak to find the enemy within a few paces of him in readiness to renew the attack. The young king and the chevalier fought at Marignano side by side, and both displayed extraordinary valour; and when the victory was decided for the French, Francis, to reward Bayard for the great share he had had in it, received the honour of knighthood from his hands.
The day of Marignano, "the combat of giants," as an old Italian hero called it, who had been in eighteen pitched battles, was disastrous indeed for the Swiss, for it is said that when they began to retreat they left 10,000 of their comrades lying dead upon the battle-field.
In the last charge that was made, Bayard was mounted on a fiery courser, the first he had ridden having been killed under him. He was so closely beset that the bridle was torn from his horse, and the animal, thus freed from restraint, galloped off and made its way through the enemy's ranks; it would have carried its rider right into the midst of a troop of Swiss, if its course had not been intercepted by a field full of vines entwined from tree to tree; the good knight but for this timely wall of defence, must assuredly have fallen into the hands of his enemies. He had not quite lost his senses in the rapid flight, and he glided down gently from his horse, threw away his arms and a part of his armour, and crawled along a ditch, in the direction as he supposed of the French camp. Fortunately he was not mistaken; he soon had the delight of hearing the cry of "France! France!" in the distance, and was enabled to reach his companions, and rejoice with them over the great victory they had gained; although a victory bought with the lives of so many fellow creatures, cannot but bring a sharp pang of sorrow to the heart of every man.