Cressy & Poictiers — A Closer Reading

eat was the commotion, much the ceremony, in London on such occasions; and as the shades of evening fell, young and old, high and low, rich and poor, participated in the excitement of the hour. The houses were decorated with branches of green birch, long fennel, St. John's rush, and orpine; and as night closed over the city the inhabitants illuminated their dwellings with clusters of lamps, and made the streets resound with merriment and song.

At the same time, the ceremony of "setting the watch"--a body of armed guards, instituted in the reign of the third Henry to keep the peace, and prevent robberies and outrages--was performed with much show and splendour. On this ceremony, indeed, large sums of money were expended, and the watchmen, arrayed "in bright harness," marched in procession, accompanied by the Lord Mayor and aldermen, the city officers, a crowd of minstrels, giants, and morris-dancers; while blazing cressets and huge torches, borne on men's shoulders, threw a flood of light over the scene, and raised the wonder of the thronging populace.

Meanwhile, a large fire was kindled in the street, and stirred to a blaze, which was intended to typify the patron saint of the day. Around this fire lads and lasses danced and disported themselves merrily to the sound of music. Many and gay were the capers they cut as the flames rose and fell. Sometimes they leaped over the fire amid many shouts, and at others they looked through garlands at the flame, believing that, by so doing, they freed themselves from various pains and diseases, present and prospective.

Not till midnight--sometimes not till dawn--did the dancing cease; and as soon as day broke, while the dew was still on the grass and flowers, the young women went forth to practise certain rites, by which they believed they could assure themselves of the constancy or inconstancy of their wooers. Collecting garlands of flowers, the nymphs bound them on their heads, and according as the dew remained a longer or shorter time on the flowers, they augured more or less favourably of the fidelity of their lovers. Moreover, they secured a snow-white wether, decorated it with garlands, and, enclosing it in a hut of heath, danced and sang around. She who wished to test her fortune stood by the door, and if the wether remained quiet she considered the omen good; but if he pushed his horns through the door of the hut, she concluded that her suitor was to prove false.

Such was the great medieval festival that was being celebrated at the time when our chronicle opens, when Edward III. was King of England, and on the point of undertaking the war with France, which resulted in mighty victories won and splendid conquests achieved against great odds; and when the hero of this story entered upon the remarkable adventures which associated his name with that of the young conqueror of Cressy and Poictiers--Edward, Prince of Wales, popularly known as "the Black Prince."

THE FALCON IN GRACECHURCH

It was Midsummer Eve in the year 1344, and the citizens of London were celebrating the festival of St. John the Baptist, when I, then a stripling of fifteen, with a tall figure and a dreamy eye, like that of one indulging much in internal visions, mounted on a little black horse of great speed and high mettle, trotted by the side of my aged grandsire, a tall and still vigorous man, into the capital of England, and alighted at the hostelry known as the Falcon, situated in Gracechurch, and kept by Thomelin of Winchester.

I had journeyed with my grandsire from his homestead at Greenmead, on the border of Windsor Forest, and my eyes were, for the first time, gladdened with a sight of London. Hitherto I had been reared in obscurity; and, except on the occasion of a rare visit to the little town of Windsor, I had seen nothing of life. I was well aware of the disadvantages of my position; for, though brought up in obscurity, my ambition was ardent; and, while seeing little of life, I was constantly regaling my imagination with stirring scenes, in all of which I enacted a conspicuous part.

My excitement on entering a city I had often longed to behold was naturally high; and, as we rode along, I was much impressed with the novelty of the scene. London and the Londoners were that evening in holiday attire, and everything wore a gay aspect. The houses were lighted up; the streets were crowded with the populace; and an unwonted degree of jollity appeared to brighten every face. Even the beggar and the outcast began to think their condition tolerable, as they watched the kindling of the great fire which was to typify the saint of the day, who has been described as "a burning and shining light."

It is not wonderful, indeed, all things considered, that such should have been the case at the period of which I write. During the long and prosperous reign of the first Edward, Englishmen, while enjoying the blessings of freedom and order vigilantly guarded by law, had learned to speak their minds without fear, and with little hesitation; and, albeit nearly forty years had elapsed since the great king had been laid at rest in Westminster Abbey, they had not yet unlearned the lesson that an Englishman's words should be as free as his thoughts. Nor, so far, was public order in any danger from the utmost freedom of speech; for the House of Plantagenet was still so popular, that, had the reigning sovereign deliberately gone among his subjects in disguise, to learn what they thought of him, he would probably have heard nothing more offensive to his ear than complaints as to the rapacity of the royal purveyors. The day which I have lived to see was not yet come when a crazy priest, like John Ball, could rouse a populace to frenzy, or when a rude demagogue, like Wat Tyler, could lead on a rabble to plunder and bloodshed.

"Adam of Greenmead," said the Thomelin of Winchester, as he rose to welcome my grandsire and myself; "old kinsman, I am right glad to see thee and thy grandson too. Body o' me, Arthur, it seems but yesterday when you were cock-bird height, and now you have grown as tall and handsome a lad as the girls would wish to set eyes on."

"And how farest thou, Thomelin?" asked my grandsire, as he seated himself near the host, and I took a place by his side.

"Passing well, kinsman--passing well, the saints be thanked; and it makes me all the better, methinks, since I see thee so hale and hearty."

"For that matter," said my grandsire, with an expression of discontent in his face, "I am hale as a man who has seen threescore and ten years can expect to be, and hearty as a man can hope to be in the days in which we live."

"You are not pleased with the times we live in, kinsman," remarked Thomelin.

"In truth, they are not much to my liking," said my grandsire. "As we rode along, my mind went back to the time when King Edward hammered the stubborn Scots at Falkirk, and to the day when he entered London, and the Londoners kept holiday in honour of his victory."

"Grand times, doubtless," said Thomelin.

"Ay, you may well say so," exclaimed my grandsire, with a tear in his eye. "England was then prosperous and contented. But now King Edward has been thirty-seven years in his tomb, and the world has well-nigh gone to ruin."

"No, no, Adam," protested Thomelin. "Matters are not so bad as you fancy. The world goes on well enough--in fact, as well as ever--in its way. Men buy and sell, sow and reap, marry and give in marriage; and, albeit the king whom you serve is in his grave, we have a king who is bravest among the brave, and wisest among the wise."

"But not so great as his grandfather was," said the old man in a conclusive tone.

"Nevertheless, kinsman," observed Thomelin, as if anxious to change the subject, "you have come to see London town once more."

"Even so; and yet, God's truth! I might have gone to my long home without taking so much trouble; for what is London to me? But Arthur, hearing that the lads of the town were to try their skill at the quintain before the Prince of Wales, would come, reason or none."

"To see the display," suggested Thomelin.

"No, to try his own hand; and trust me, if I know anything of such matters--and I ought--his chance is not small."

"I doubt it not, kinsman--I doubt it not," said Thomelin; "and yet I know not how he is to get a chance; for the match is, in some measure, confined to the Londoners, and strangers may not be admitted."

"Tell that not to me," replied my grandsire conclusively, and striking the table with his clenched fist. "In my younger days I have seen not only the sons of yeomen, but squires' and knights' sons take part in such diversions; and if rules were relaxed then they can be relaxed now."

"Well, kinsman, we must see what can be done," said Thomelin mildly, but somewhat doubtfully. "Meanwhile, kinsmen, you must eat and drink, and let me show to you what hospitality my house can afford, for the sake of Richard Tythering, whose blood we both have in our veins."

"Ay; blood is thicker than water, as they say in the North," responded my grandsire; "and trust me, Thomelin," he added, "my heart warms to thee for thine own sake, and for that of thy mother; she was my first cousin."

"And so, Arthur, my lad," said Thomelin, turning to me, "thou art determined to win the peacock."

"I know not whether I can win the peacock or not," answered I, trying not to appear too vain of my skill; "but I hope to do so; and, in any case, I'll do my best."

On the forenoon of St. John the Baptist's Day the Londoners crowded to Smithfield to celebrate the festival with sports and diversions; and thither I, mounting my horse, accompanied my grandsire and Thomelin of Winchester.

Various were the spectacles there exhibited to please the populace; and much was I interested with what I beheld. At one place a glee-woman was dancing round an unmuzzled bear, which endeavoured to seize her, while the keeper scourged the animal to excite its fury; at another, two men, in warlike attire, armed with brand and buckler, were playing at the sword-dance of the Anglo-Saxons to the sound of music, while a woman danced round them as they combated; at a third, wrestlers were exercising their skill in various attitudes; in one of which, said to have been derived from the ancient Greeks, two men, each mounted on the back of a comrade, encountered like knights on horseback, and endeavoured to secure victory by pulling his antagonist to the ground.

But the chief point of attraction was a broad space, inclosed with railings and covered with sawdust, where the youthful Londoners, in imitation of apprentices to chivalry, were about to display their dexterity at the quintain. In the courtyards of princes and feudal magnates, the quintain was a wooden figure, made to resemble Saladin the Great, or Bibars Bendocdar, or some other famous Saracen, holding a shield in one hand, and brandishing a sabre in the other. However, that erected in Smithfield was of a humbler description. In fact, it was very much like a turnstile with two arms, which revolved on a spindle, on one of which was a painted board resembling a shield, while from the other hung a bag filled with sand.

Mounted on horseback, the youth, armed with a long staff or blunt lance, rode at the quintain, and aimed at the wooden shield. If he failed to strike it, all the spectators laughed him to scorn; and if he struck it without making an escape in time, he was exposed, not only to the ridicule of the spectators, but to the inconvenience of receiving a severe blow on the neck from the sand-bag.

In other days, when the game of quintain was played at Smithfield, squires and pages of the king's household had taken part in the diversion, and added interest to the competition. Such was no longer the case. On the present occasion, however, the crowd flocked to witness the contest with more than the ordinary curiosity; for it was known that John Hammond, Mayor of London, was to be present to award the prize; and it was rumoured that the mayor was to do so because the Prince of Wales intended to ride from Westminster to witness the competition.

As the hour when the competitors were to mount approached, the crowd, pressing, surging, and swaying, gathered round the inclosed space, and manifested their interest in the coming contest by shouting the names of their favourites. My grandsire, whose high head and white hair commanded so much reverence that the spectators instinctively made way for him, guided me to a place near the lord mayor's chair, and was evincing much anxiety to lay before that functionary my claim to compete for the peacock, when suddenly all attention was withdrawn from the quintain by a cry of "The prince comes--long live the Prince of Wales!"

I turned as the shout rose; and as the prince, with a train of young nobles, and squires, and pages, rode up to the lord mayor, I gazed for the first time, and earnestly, on the young hero, who, ere long, was to prove himself the flower of all the chivalry of his age. At that time Edward was not more than fifteen; but he was tall for his years, fair to look upon, and distinguished by the manly beauty and the intellectual air of the great Plantagenet race. Trained to feats of strength in the tilt-yard and in the forest, his frame was strong and vigorous, and his face glowed with health; and, as he rode forward and uncovered his head, his grace and elegance of bearing moved the admiration of the multitude, who, with one voice, renewed their shouts of welcome and applause.

And now the business of the day commenced in earnest, and the youths of London, one after another, mounted and rode at the quintain. The result was not gratifying to the pride of the citizens. Indeed, fortune proved adverse to each competitor in turn. Some altogether missed the mark; others, after hitting the shield, failed to retire in time to escape the blow of the sand-bag; and several who, in both respects, were successful in two trials, failed in the third attempt, and were consequently judged to have forfeited all claim to the prize. The crowd jeered; the mayor looked gloomy; and the cavaliers surrounding the prince sneered in contempt of the city chivalry; and many of the Londoners who had intended to compete, discouraged by the failure of their compeers, and fearing to tempt fortune, deemed it more discreet to submit to obscurity than to expose themselves to ridicule, and declined to try their skill.

It was at this stage of the proceedings that my grandsire, leading my horse by the rein, drew nigh to the chair of the lord mayor, and raised his voice.

"Sir," said the old man, "my grandson, who, albeit not a Londoner, is a lad of mettle, and much given to exercises of this kind, would fain try his skill, if he had your permission so to do."

"I know not how that may be," replied the mayor, eyeing me with interest, "seeing that the competition is intended for the youths of the city; and if a stranger bore off the prize, men might say that----"

"That you had taken the children's bread and given it to dogs," interrupted I, with a disdainful toss of the head; "wherefore, my lord mayor, I will not trespass so far on your courtesy as to ask you to relax the rules."

"A bold youth, on my faith," said the mayor, starting and colouring. "However, my lord the prince shall decide."

"By good St. George! my lord mayor," exclaimed the prince, to whom my display of spirit seemed the reverse of displeasing, "were I in your place, I should certainly relax the rules, in order to make the sport more worthy of the occasion."

"If such be your pleasure, my lord, I will strain a point;" and my grandsire waving his hat in the air, said--

"Now, Arthur, lad, ride; and bear in mind that it is to the prince you are beholden for the privilege granted thee."

I lost no time in obeying my grandsire; and, a new candidate for the peacock having been announced, the crowd, with renewed interest, turned again to the inclosed space, and speculated on my chances of success. Nor, stranger as I was, did I meet with a discouraging reception. At first, indeed, my rustic garments evoked remarks not highly complimentary. But a closer examination disarmed prejudice; and my firm seat, my equestrian skill, and something of juvenile audacity with which I handled my blunt lance, created such an impression in my favour, that the crowd raised an inciting cheer; and the prince, turning to Roger, Lord De Ov, a young baron of high rank, who rode by his side, exclaimed--

"A strong and handsome stripling, and one likely to acquit himself with honour, here and elsewhere."

"A likely lad is Arthur," muttered Thomelin of Winchester to my grandsire; "and, in the prince's presence, will do credit to his bringing up."

Nor did mine host of the Falcon speak without prescience. Managing my steed with perfect facility, and displaying with my weapon a familiarity that had not characterised the Londoners who had preceded me, I spurred towards the quintain, struck the shield fairly, and, ere the spindle could revolve, retreated with seeming ease amid shouts of applause. Three times I repeated the attempt, and on each occasion performed the feat with such success, that the crowd shouted louder and louder in compliment to my skill.

"Gallantly and dexterously done," said the prince, as, flushed with exertion and excitement, I was brought to the presence of the mayor, and uncovered my head.

I bowed low to the compliment so sincerely expressed.

"Thy name, youth?" said the prince.

"My lord," I answered, "my name is Arthur."

"And your surname?" continued the prince.

"I have no surname, my lord," replied I; "but since I won the ram at the wrestling match at Windsor, on May Day, men have called me Arthur Winram."

"Arthur Winram," said the prince, smiling. "Beshrew me! it sounds well, and is a name that a ballad-maker would deem worthy to put in verse. However," continued he, "I trust you will live to make yourself a name worthy of your skill. Meanwhile," he added, "carry with you this comfort, that your performance to-day has been marked and appreciated by your king's son."

"Ha! my lord," interposed the Lord De Ov, "this hardly beseems you. We have already tarried here long enough. Why waste words on this young rustic? Let us ride;" and he laid his hand on the prince's rein.

"Roger De Ov, you forget yourself," said the prince haughtily, as he was led off, after exchanging courtesies with the mayor; while I, having watched his departure with a flashing eye, turned to my grandsire, whose brow was bent darkly and sternly.

"Grandsire," asked I, my heart swelling with rage and mortification, "who is that man?"

"What matters it, Arthur, my lad?" answered my grandsire, recovering with a start. "Be calm and be silent, and thine hour will come. Patience is a good palfrey, and will carry thee through many a day's journey."

"I could feel it in my heart to follow the miscreant, and strike him, even in the prince's presence," said I.

"And ruin yourself for ever. Nay, nay. Better let us carry the peacock you have won to the Falcon, and drink a cup with Thomelin, my cousin, ere we mount and ride homeward."

"Ay," said Thomelin; "let us to the Falcon."

AT MY GRANDSIRE'S HOMESTEAD

My grandsire's homestead, as I have already intimated, stood on the outskirts of the royal forest of Windsor. It was a humble enough tenement, but not without its comforts, and it occupied a fair spot of ground, shadowed by ancient trees, and surrounded by green sward stretching away into meadows by the river side, where flowers grew and kine grazed, and young maidens sat tending their fathers' flocks and singing the ballads of their country.