CHAPTER XIII

THE RELIEF OF HENNEBON

"THY name and style, fair sir?"

"My name is Raymond Buckland, squire to Sir John Hacket, Constable of the King's Castle of Portchester and Governor of the town of Portsmouth. Lead me, I pray, to her grace the Countess of Montfort, for I have a letter which I have to give her by my own hand."

"Nay," was the reply, "that cannot be--at least not at this moment. The Countess led a sortie yesterday at noon, and, alas, hath not yet returned. I, Henri Barbenoire, seigneur of the castle of Ploeac and Seneschal, in the absence of the Countess of this town will receive thy message."

"That cannot be," replied Raymond courteously, "for to the Countess alone must I hand this letter."

Barbenoire, a Breton whole-heartedly devoted to his mistress, did not press the point, but ordering a hasty meal to be prepared, remained with the young squire. It was but a sorry repast, for already the supplies were low, nevertheless Raymond did justice to the simple fare, listening awhile to the narrative of the events of the siege.

Cheered by the touching confidence that the heroic Countess had given to the townsmen of Hennebon, the garrison had fought bravely and well. The Countess herself wore armour, and rode on a huge warhorse through the narrow streets, encouraging her people to make good defence, reminding them of the help she hoped would be forthcoming from the King of England. Nor did she spare the womenfolk, for she caused them to discard their long trains and heavy skirts and to don short kirtles so that they could move with freedom. This done, they were employed in carrying stones and arrows to the walls to replenish the missiles of the defenders, and so emboldened were they by the example of their mistress that the women did not hesitate to hurl the stones down upon the invaders.

At length one day the Frenchmen massed outside the northern wall for a grand assault, and, ascending a lofty tower, the Countess perceived that their camp was empty. Instantly calling together a body of knights and mounted men-at-arms the lady mounted her steed and, placing herself at their head, rode straight for the French camp, cutting down tents and setting fire to everything that would readily burn.

The watchers on the walls saw the French host desist from the assault and retire to intercept the Countess. Finding herself cut off from the town, she called in her followers, and rode furiously away to Aural, hotly pursued by Sir Louis d'Espagne, the second in command of Charles of Blois.

Thus it was that Raymond had seen the Countess and her troops pass by him without knowledge of their identity; and now the garrison was ignorant of the fate of their beloved leader, none knowing whether she had been killed or taken, or whether she had baffled pursuit.

On the morning following the arrival of Raymond and his father, the host of Blois still encompassed the town, yet no attempt was made to renew the assault.

The two Englishmen were enrolled as members of the garrison, and as the days went past they with their foreign comrades gazed eagerly from the battlements in the hope of seeing the banners of the returning Countess.

On the fifth day, Barbenoire had ascended the lofty east tower. Despair for his mistress had filled his soul, yet, inspiring the townsfolk by word and deed, he gave no sign of misgiving, being resolved to hold Hennebon as long as a single fighting-man was left.

The rising sun dazzled his vision, but a movement on the skyline riveted his attention. Calling one of his captains, he pointed out the spot, and both agreed that it was a body of troops approaching.

A very short time sufficed to spread the news, though Barbenoire commanded that no demonstration should be made lest it should attract the notice of the besiegers.

Soon it was beyond doubt that the Countess was returning. Collecting a body of one hundred archers and spearmen, the Seneschal ordered them to make a feint sortie from the western side while the gateway on the opposite side was thrown open to receive the Countess. Then, when safely within the walls with all her company and an additional force of five hundred spears, the redoubtable Châtelaine was greeted with a great noise of trumpets to the cheers of the delighted townsfolk.

The besiegers, finding themselves tricked, could not refrain from praising the boldness and skill of the Countess of Montfort. Nevertheless, they advanced to the assault, and the struggle waxed fierce until noon, when, unable to gain a lodgment, the partisans of Blois sullenly retreated to their camp.

Directly the attack was repulsed, Raymond hastened to the presence of the Countess. She had now divested herself of her bascinet and steel jupon, and the young squire saw before him a tall, stately lady of about thirty years of age. Her finely chiselled face was crowned by a wealth of auburn hair, which, ruffled by the removal of her headpiece, served to hide the somewhat lofty brow.

Raymond could but marvel that such a truly feminine form possessed the courage and endurance of a man, and his astonishment was increased when she addressed him in low, sweet tones, for he had heard of the Countess's soul-stirring speech, when, holding her little son by the hand, she had so successfully appealed to the chivalrous instincts of her knights and to the loyalty of the townsfolk.

Concealing her agitation at the arrival of such important news from England, the Countess broke the seals and opened the letter. Her face flushed with pleasure as she read its contents.

"Hearken, my fair lords, to the message of our noble overlord the King of England," she cried, turning to those who were with her. "Four score ships by now are on their way to aid us, and ere long three thousand men, under Sir Robert of Artois and Sir Walter Manny, will be on the heels of our enemies."

Shouts of exultation greeted this announcement, and, the news quickly spreading, the whole town was given over to rejoicing.

But meanwhile active preparations were being made by Charles of Blois to make another general assault, and the arrival of some formidable siege-engines enabled him to breach the walls in several places; while the garrison, kept in a state of constant alarm, were worn with toil and endless vigil.

Every morning at sunrise, for nearly two months, the Countess would ascend the loftiest tower in Hennebon and gaze towards the distant Cape of Ushant in the hope of catching sight of the sails of the English fleet. But her expectations remained unrealised, for seaward the horizon was unbroken, while around the town lay the close lines of her relentless foes.

At length one of her partisans, the Bishop of Leon, informed her that his nephew, Henri de Rohan, who was in the camp of Blois, desired to hold converse with her; and, being granted safe conduct, the knight entered the town for the purpose of inducing the besieged to surrender, promising an honourable capitulation, with permission for the garrison to withdraw.

For a while it seemed as if De Rohan's words would gain the day, till the Countess, supported by Barbenoire, again harangued her knights, and the ecclesiastic withdrew discomfited.

Thereupon the French advanced to the grand assault, while the besieged caught up their arms and silently yet resolutely awaited their approach.

But ere the archers could begin their hail of arrows which was to open the attack, the ringing voice of the Countess was heard from the summit of the tower:--

"Voilà, le secours! Voilà le secours anglais! Courage, enfans; nous sommes sauvés!"

"Will they be in time?" asked Raymond anxiously, as he stood by his father on the shattered wall.

"If we can but make good the battlements for one hour all will be well. Canst see aught of the ships?"

"Not as yet."

"Then heaven forfend the Countess be not mistaken. Stand to it, Raymond, for here they come!"

All conversation was stopped by the on-coming foemen. The squire closed his visor, and crouching behind his shield, awaited the attack. Under cover of the archers the men-at-arms advanced. Though some fell before the darts of the besieged, the main body pressed steadily onward, till they reached the breach in the shattered masonry.

The impact of the two forces was terrific; men went down on both sides, and, as sword and lance were shattered, axes, mauls, and maces continued the deadly work. The air was rent with the clash of arms, the shouts of the combatants, and the groans of the dying; but the townsfolk held their own, and after an hour's desperate struggle the attacking party retired.

"'Tis hot work!" exclaimed Redward breathlessly, throwing down a heavy axe and removing his steel cap to cool his heated head. "Run and see if our comrades are yet in sight."

To gain the summit of the tower was the work of a moment, and to the squire's great delight he saw the English ships already within easy distance of the harbour, their sails bellying out before the favouring breeze, and the water churned by the lash of the oars.

"They come! They come!" he shouted joyously.

"And so doth the foe," replied Redward grimly. "Haste back to the breach, for, by St. George, 'tis touch-and-go with Hennebon!"

Again the attackers advanced, one knight, utterly regardless of his life, urging his horse towards the gap in the wall. Crouching, with lance in rest, the Frenchman spurred over the shattered stones, received yet recked not a hail of arrows, and rode furiously towards Raymond, who, sword in hand, awaited his approach.

It would have gone hardly with the young squire had it not been for the unevenness of the ground, for the horse stumbled over a loose stone, throwing its rider heavily on the ground.

In spite of the weight of his armour and the shock of his fall, the knight, a man of gigantic strength, rose to his feet, dropping his lance and wrenching his mace from the saddle-bow. As he did so Raymond struck him a heavy blow with his weapon, but the steel turned against the crest of his casque and was shattered close to the hilt. In a moment the mace beat down the squire's shield and descended upon his head, and without a cry the squire dropped senseless to the ground.

But his fall was speedily avenged. Wielding his heavy axe, Redward sprang forward and smote at the Frenchman's helm. Realising his danger, the knight sprang aside; but, though avoiding a fatal blow, he did not escape, for the axe, glancing off the crest, caught the projecting visor. Unable to stand the strain, the leathern laces of his helmet burst, and the bascinet, though prevented by the camail from falling off, was turned back to front, so that the unfortunate wearer was unable to see through the openings of the visor.

Dazed by the blow and in total darkness, the Frenchman staggered blindly about, still striking feeble and aimless blows, till the defenders, with taunts and execrations, beat him to the ground and despatched him with their axes.

Meanwhile Redward bent over the prostrate form of his son, but ere he could ascertain whether the blow had been fatal the main attack had commenced. Gallantly the besieged met the shock; many fell on both sides, and for the space of a quarter of an hour the issue hung in the balance.

At length, reinforced by a band of knights under Louis d'Espagne, the assailants bore back all before them. Barbenoire, fighting gallantly to the last, fell covered with wounds. Redward, standing over his son's body, kept back the press for a time, till, borne down by the weight of numbers, he was struck to the earth, but ere he lost consciousness he was dimly aware of the sound of English voices and the renewed clash of arms.

At the critical moment the long-expected aid had arrived!

Once more the tide of battle turned, and the followers of the House of Blois, unable to withstand the fierce onslaught of the English, fled panic-stricken before the reinforcements, the knights and mounted men-at-arms of Sir Walter Manny riding down all who came in their way.

When at length the victorious Manny returned from the pursuit, the Countess of Montfort came forth and warmly greeted him.

"Of a truth, fair sir," she exclaimed, as the warrior knelt and kissed her hand, "I cannot but liken you to the Archangel Michael sent from heaven in answer to our prayers!"

Meanwhile the inhabitants of the town were busy pillaging the camp of their enemies, bringing in additional food supplies and tending their own wounded--for those of their assailants who were left in their hands were mercilessly despatched, save where their rank made them likely subjects for ransom.

Redward and his son were found surrounded by the bodies of friend and foe, senseless but still breathing. The Countess had been apprised of the fall of her gallant messenger, and had ordered the young squire and his father to be carried into her own house within the castle. Sir Walter Manny himself also came frequently to see how fared the forerunner of his arrival, and brought with him his own chirurgeon to attend the two.

For four days Raymond lay unconscious, till one morning his scattered senses returned, and he opened his eyes to find himself in a roomy apartment overlooking the town walls. Instead of the clash of arms the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing. Beside him were the Countess and a group of Englishmen of quality; a little distance off lay Redward on a soft couch, his gaze fixed intently upon his son.

Then the young squire realised that Hennebon was saved, and that his father was still with him; and with a sigh of contentment he fell into a deep and natural slumber.

The wounds of both Raymond and his father were severe, and a considerable time elapsed ere they were capable of moving about, while their complete recovery, in spite of the kindly climate of fair Brittany, was a tedious business. Thus they missed the remaining portion of the Brittany campaign, in which Robert of Artois captured Vannes, and was soon afterwards driven from that town by a surprise attack on the part of some Breton adherents of Charles of Blois.

Shortly after, the existing treaty between England and France was terminated, for during the struggle in Brittany a truce was nominally in force, the armies of England and France ostentatiously supporting the claim of the rival dukes; but on the expiration of the treaty war was openly resumed between the two great nations.

The King of England landed at Marbain with 12,000 men, and simultaneously laid siege to Vannes, Rennes, and Mantes, but the triple task was beyond his power, and under the influence of the Pope's legates he agreed to observe a truce for three years.

Immediately following this pacific arrangement King Edward re-embarked for his own dominions, and with the army went Raymond and Redward, the former despondent at the news of the truce, regarding it as being fatal to his cherished hopes of winning the golden spurs of knighthood.