those treacherous spies always serve one better than the other, and this one hoped for the most gain from the Venetian.
So one day Manfroni said to him: “You must go to Verona and let Captain Bayard know that the Council of Venice wish me to be sent in command of Lignano, a fortified town on the Adige, as the present governor is ordered to the Levant with a number of galleys. Tell Bayard that you know for certain that I start to-morrow at dawn with three hundred light horsemen, and that I shall have no foot-soldiers with me. I am sure that he will never let me pass without a skirmish, and if he comes I trust he will be killed or taken, for I shall have an ambush at Isola della Scale (about fifteen miles south of Verona) of two hundred men-at-arms and two thousand foot-soldiers. If you manage for him to meet me there I promise on my faith to give you two thousand ducats of gold.”
This precious scoundrel readily promised that he would not fail to do so. He went off straight to Verona, and to the lodging of the Good Knight, where he was admitted at once, for all the people there believed him to be entirely in the service of their master. They brought him in as soon as Bayard had finished supper, and he was warmly welcomed. “Well, Vizentin, I am glad to see you. You do not come without some reason; tell me, what news have you?”
[Illustration: Seizure of the Spy.]
“My lord, I have very good news, thank God!” was the reply. The Good Knight at once rose from table and drew the spy on one side, to learn what was going on, who repeated the lesson he had learned. Bayard was delighted at the prospect before him, and gave orders that Vizentin was to be well feasted. Then he called together the Captain Pierre du Pont, La Varenne, his flag-bearer du Fay, and a certain Burgundian captain of “landsknechte,” Hannotin de Sucker, who had fought with him in most of his Italian wars. He told these friends what he had heard from the spy, and how Manfroni was going to Lignano on the morrow with only three hundred horsemen. Then he added that, if his good companions would join him, these Venetians would not finish their journey without a little fighting, but the matter must be seen to at once.
It was settled that they should start at daybreak and take two hundred men-at-arms. Hannotin de Sucker had his lodging at the other end of the town, and while he was on his way home he chanced to see the spy coming out of the house of a man who was known to be on the Venetian side. The Burgundian captain at once suspected treason; he seized Vizentin by the collar and asked him what he was doing. The man, taken by surprise, changed colour and prevaricated so much that the captain at once took him back to Bayard’s lodging. He found his friend just going to bed, but the two sat together over the fire, while the spy was carefully guarded.
Hannotin explained why he felt sure that there was something wrong. Bayard at once sent for the spy, of whom he inquired his reason for going to the house of Messire Baptiste Voltege, the suspected person. In his fright the spy gave five or six different explanations; but the Good Knight said to him: “Vizentin, tell the truth without hiding anything, and I promise, on the word of a true gentleman, that whatever it may be, even if my death has been conspired for, I will do you no harm. But, on the other hand, if I catch you in a lie, you will be hung to-morrow at break of day.”
The spy saw that he was caught, so he knelt down and begged for mercy, which was again positively promised him. Then he told the whole story from beginning to end of the proposed treachery; how Manfroni would have an ambush of two hundred men-at-arms and two thousand foot-soldiers to make sure of Bayard’s destruction. The spy owned that he had been to the house of Baptiste to tell him of this enterprise, and to advise him to find means some night to have one of the city gates opened to the Venetians, but he added that Baptiste had refused to do this.
When he had made an end of his confession the Good Knight said to him: “Vizentin, my money has certainly been wasted upon you, for you are a bad and treacherous man … You have deserved death, but I will keep my promise and you shall be safe with me, but I advise you to keep out of sight, for others may not spare you.”
The spy was taken away to be closely guarded, and Bayard said to his friend, the Burgundian captain:
“What shall we do to this Captain Manfroni who thinks to take us by a trick? We must pay him out, and if you do what I ask you we will carry out one of those splendid adventures which were done a hundred years ago.” “My lord, you have only to command and you will be obeyed,” was the simple reply.
“Then go at once to the lodging of the Prince of Hainault, and with my compliments tell him the whole story. Then you must persuade him to send us to-morrow morning two thousand of his ‘landsknechte,’ and we will take them with us and leave them somewhere in ambush. If something wonderful does not result you may blame me!”
Hannotin de Sucker started at once and went to the quarters of the Prince, who was asleep in bed. He was roused immediately and soon heard all that his visitor had to tell. This courteous Prince, who loved war better than anything else, was also such a devoted admirer of the Good Knight that he could have refused him nothing. He replied that he only wished he had heard of this sooner, as he would have joined the party himself, but Bayard could dispose of his soldiers as if they were his own. He instantly sent his secretary to four or five of his most trusted captains, who, to make a long story short, were ready at daybreak to meet the men-at-arms who had known of the expedition overnight. They all met at the city gate and set forth from the city towards Isola della Scala, and the Good Knight said to Hannotin: “You and the ‘landsknechte’ must remain in ambush at Servode (a little village two miles from Isola), and do not be uneasy for I will draw our foes under your very nose, so that you will have plenty of honour to-day if you are a gallant comrade.”
All was carried out as arranged, for when the men in ambush were left behind, all the rest of the brave company galloped on to Isola, as if they knew nothing of what awaited them. They were in an open plain, where there was a good view from all sides, and presently they saw the Captain Manfroni riding towards them with his small company of light horsemen. The Good Knight sent forward his standard-bearer, du Fay, with some archers for a little skirmish, while he rode after them at a good pace with the men-at-arms. But he had not gone far when he saw, coming briskly out of the town of Isola, the Venetian foot-soldiers and a troop of men-at-arms. He made a show of being surprised, and bade the trumpeter sound to recall his standard. When du Fay heard this, according to his orders, he began to retire with his company, which closed up round him, and pretended to be going straight back to Verona, but really went slowly towards the village where their “landsknechte” were hiding. An archer had already been sent on to tell Captain Sucker to make ready for the fight.
Meantime the men of Venice, with their combined troops, charged the small company of Frenchmen, making such a noise that thunder would not have been heard, for they felt quite sure that their prey could not escape them. The French kept well together and skirmished so cleverly that they were soon within a bow-shot from Servode, when the “landsknechte” of the Prince of Hainault rushed forth in close ranks from their ambush, and at the word of command from Bayard charged the Venetians, who were astounded. But they were good fighting men and made a bold stand, although many were borne to the ground by the terrible long spears of their enemies. Manfroni made a splendid resistance, but he could do nothing to help his foot-soldiers, who could not escape by flight, as they were too far from any refuge; and he was compelled to see them cut up and destroyed before his eyes. The Venetian captain soon saw that his only chance was to retreat or he must be killed, if not taken prisoner, so he galloped off at full speed towards San Bonifacio. He was followed for some distance, but the Good Knight then caused the retreat to be sounded, and the pursuers returned, but with great spoils of prisoners and horses.
The loss of the Venetians was very great, for none of the foot-soldiers escaped, and there were about sixty prisoners of importance who were taken to Verona, where the successful French, Burgundians, and “landsknechte” were received with the utmost joy by their companions, whose only regret was that they had missed the fray. Thus ended this gallant adventure which brought great honour and praise to the Good Knight. When he returned to his lodging he sent for the spy, to whom he said:
“Vizentin, according to my promise I will set you free. You can go to the Venetian camp and ask the Captain Manfroni if the Captain Bayard is as clever in war as he is. Say that if he wants to take me he will find me in the fields.”
He sent two of his archers to conduct the spy out of the town, and the man went at once to San Bonifacio, where Manfroni had him taken and hung as a traitor, without listening to any excuse.
[Illustration: POPE JULIUS THE SECOND _from the portrait by Raphael Sanzio_.]
CHAPTER VII
When war began again in Italy at the close of the year 1510, Louis XII. found that he had no allies except the Duke of Ferrara and some Swiss mercenaries. Pope Julius II. had joined forces with the Venetians in his eager desire to drive the French out of Italy, and he was also extremely wroth with Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara. He sent word to the widowed Countess of Mirandola that she should give up her city into his hands, as he required it for his attack upon Ferrara.
When at length the brave defenders had been compelled to yield their citadel, Pope Julius refused to take possession of the conquered city in the usual way by riding in through the gate; he had a bridge thrown across the frozen moat and climbed in through a breach in the walls. It must have been a gallant sight to look upon, when he politely escorted the angry Countess of Mirandola out of the home she had so bravely defended, while she held her head high and boldly spoke her mind, with pride and assurance as great as his own.
When news of the fall of Mirandola reached the Duke of Ferrara he expected that the next move would be an attack on Ferrara itself. He therefore destroyed the bridge which he had made across the Po, and retreated with all his army to his own strong city. The Castello of Ferrara, in the very heart of the city, standing four-square with its mighty crenellated towers, was one of the most famous fortresses of Italy and was believed to be impregnable; only by famine could it be taken.
The Pope’s wisest captains and his nephew, the Duke of Urbino, pointed out that Ferrara was thoroughly fortified, well provided with artillery of the newest make, and was defended by an army of well-tried soldiers, amongst whom was the French company commanded by Bayard. One noted Venetian captain thus gave his opinion: “Holy Father, we must prevent any provisions arriving at Ferrara by the river, and also from Argenta and the country round, which is very rich and fertile. But this we shall scarcely accomplish unless we take La Bastida, a place about twenty-five miles from Ferrara; but if once this fortress is in our hands we can starve out the city in two months, considering what a number of people are within its walls.”
Pope Julius saw the point at once and exclaimed: “Certainly, we must have that place; I shall not rest until it is taken.”
We may imagine the dismay of the governor of La Bastida when he saw a formidable army arrive, for it happened at the time that he had only a weak garrison. He instantly sent off a messenger to Ferrara, before the castle was surrounded and the artillery set in position, pointing out the extreme peril and the absolute need of immediate help. The trusty man made such haste that he reached Ferrara about noon, having taken hardly six hours on the way. It so chanced that he met Bayard at the city gate, and on the Good Knight asking what news he brought, he replied:
“My lord, I come from La Bastida, which is besieged by seven or eight thousand men, and the commander sends me to tell the Duke that if he does not receive help he will not be able to hold the place until to-morrow night if they try to take it by assault … for he has only twenty-five men of war within the walls….”
Bayard at once hastened with him to the Duke, whom he met riding in the market-place with the lord of Montboison. They thought at first that a spy had been taken, but soon learnt that he was the bearer of bad news. As the Duke read the letter which the commander had written he turned pale, and when he had finished he shrugged his shoulders and said: “If I lose La Bastida I may as well abandon Ferrara, and I do not see how we can possibly send help within the time mentioned, for he implores assistance before to-morrow morning, and it is impossible.”
“Why?” asked the lord of Montboison.
“Because it is five-and-twenty miles from here, and in this bad weather it will be more than that,” replied the Duke. “There is a narrow way for about half a mile where the men will have to go one after the other. Besides, there is another thing, for if our enemies knew of a certain passage twenty men could hold it against ten thousand, but I trust they will not discover it.”
When the Good Knight saw how distressed the Duke was, he said:
“My lord, when a small matter is at stake we may hesitate; but when we are threatened with utter destruction we must try any means. The enemies are before La Bastida, and they are quite confident that we shall not dare to leave this city to raise the siege, knowing that the great army of the Pope is so near us. I have thought of a plan which will be easy to carry out, if fortune is with us.
“You have in this town four or five thousand foot-soldiers, well hardened and good soldiers; let us take two thousand of them with eight hundred Swiss under Captain Jacob and send them this night in boats up the river. You are still master of the Po as far as Argenta; they will go and wait for us at the passage you spoke of. If they arrive there first they will take it, and the men-at-arms who are in this town will ride by the road all this night. We shall have good guides and will so manage as to arrive by daybreak and thus join the others; our enemies will have no suspicion of this enterprise. From the passage you spoke of it is three miles or less to La Bastida; before they have time to put themselves in order of battle we will attack them sharply, and my heart tells me that we shall defeat them.”
The Duke, delighted, replied with a smile: “Upon my word, Sir Bayard, nothing seems impossible to you! But I believe that if the gentlemen who are here agree with you, we shall indeed win….” No one made any difficulty; on the contrary, the captains of the men-at-arms were so delighted that, as the chronicler says, “they thought they were in Paradise.” The boats were all prepared as quietly and secretly as possible, for in the city there were known to be many friends of the Pope.
Fortunately it was the dead of winter, when the nights were long. As soon as it was dark the foot-soldiers embarked in the boats, which were provided with trusty and experienced boatmen. The horsemen, led by the Duke in person, also set forth as soon as the twilight came; they took good guides, and had a safe journey notwithstanding the stormy weather. Thus it happened that half an hour before dawn they arrived at the narrow passage, where all was lonely and quiet, at which they rejoiced greatly. They had not been waiting half an hour before the boats arrived with the foot-soldiers.
The men landed and then marched slowly by a narrow path until they reached a very deep canal between the Po and La Bastida, where they had to cross a little bridge so narrow that they had to go one after the other. This took a whole hour to cross, so that it was now quite daylight, which made the Duke anxious, more especially as, hearing no sound of artillery, he feared the fortress had been taken. But just as he was speaking about it there thundered forth three cannon shots, at which all the company was delighted. They were now only a mile from the enemy, and the Good Knight said:
“Gentlemen, I have always heard it said that he is a fool who makes light of his foes; we are now close to ours, and they are three to one. If they knew of our enterprise it would be very bad for us, as they have artillery and we have none. Besides, I believe that on this occasion all the flower of the Pope’s army is before us; we must take them by surprise if possible. I would propose sending du Fay with fifteen or twenty horsemen to sound the alarm on the side from which the enemy came, and Captain Pierre du Pont with a hundred men-at-arms should be within a bow-shot to support him, and we will also send him Captain Jacob with his Swiss. You, my lord,” he said to the Duke, “with my lord of Montboison, my companions and myself, we will go straight to the siege, and I will go in front to give the alarm. If du Fay is first in position and they attack him, we will go forward and enclose them; but if our party is first, Captain Pierre du Pont and the Swiss will do so on their side. That will astonish them so much that they will not know what to do, for they will think we are three times as many men as we are, and especially when all our trumpets sound forth at once.”
No one had anything better to suggest, for indeed the Good Knight was so great an authority in war that all were glad to follow where he led.
The attack was thus made on both sides, du Fay giving such a tremendous alarm on the outer side of the camp that the enemies hastily began to put on their armour, to mount their horses, and go straight towards where they heard the trumpets. The foot-soldiers set about arranging themselves in battle order, but fortunately this took so long that meantime the assailants of du Fay were attacked and driven back by Pierre du Pont, while the Swiss poured down upon the foot-soldiers, whose number would have overwhelmed them had not the men-at-arms rode down upon the papal infantry from the other side.
The Duke and the French company, with two thousand foot-soldiers, who had arrived under the walls without being observed, now joined in the fray from the other side, to the utter confusion of the enemy, who were completely surrounded and cut to pieces. Some of the horsemen of the papal army made a desperate attempt to rally, but Bayard and another captain called their ensigns and rode straight at them, with the cry of: “France! France! The Duke! the Duke!” and charged them with such vehemence that most of them were brought to the ground. The fighting went on for a good hour, but at last the camp was lost and those escaped who could, but they were not many. This battle cost the Pope about three thousand men, all his artillery and camp furnishing, and was the salvation of the duchy of Ferrara. More than three hundred horses remained in the hands of the conquerors, besides many prisoners of importance.
Indeed, we do not wonder that so much stress is laid upon this victory by the chronicler of Bayard, as it was solely due to his energy and resolution. The battle took place on February 11, 1511.
It was at the siege of Brescia that the fame of Bayard reached its highest point. His splendid courage in volunteering to place himself in the forefront of battle and face the dreaded hand-guns of the arquebusiers is the more striking as he had a special hatred of these new arms which were coming more and more into use. All this gunpowder business was detestable to the great knight, who had been trained in the old school of chivalry, where gentlemen showed their skill in the use of arms, and fought bravely against each other, while a battle was a kind of glorified tournament. “It is a shame,” he used to say, “that a man of spirit should be exposed to be killed by a miserable stone or iron ball against which he cannot defend himself.”
Bayard always seems to us singularly free from the superstitions of his day, but we cannot forget that an astrologer had foretold his death from one of these new machines of war.
When all preparations had been made for the assault of the city, the Duke of Nemours said to the captains of the army: “My lords, there is one thing that for God’s sake we must consider. You know that if this town is taken by assault, it will be ruined and pillaged, and many will be put to death, which seems a great pity. We must try once, before they put it to the touch, whether they will surrender.”
This was agreed to, and the next morning a trumpeter was sent forth from the citadel, who marched down to the first rampart of the enemy where the Doge, Messire Andrea Gritti, and his captains came to meet him. The trumpeter asked if he might enter the town, but was told that he might say what he liked to those present who had the authority to answer him. Then he gave his message, saying that if they would give up the city they should all be free to go forth and their lives would be safe, but if it were taken by assault they would probably all be killed.
The answer they gave was to bid him return, for the town belonged to the Republic of Venice, and so would remain, and they would take good care that no Frenchman should ever set foot within.
The trumpeter brought back his answer, and when it was heard, there was no more delay for the men were already in battle order.
“Well, gentlemen, we must all do our best…. Let us march,” said Gaston de Foix, Duc de Nemours, “in the name of God and my lord St. Denis.” Drums, trumpets, and bugles sounded an alarm. The enemy replied with a burst of artillery, and the attacking party from the citadel began their descent down the hill, where the ground was very slippery, for there had been rain in the night. The general and many other knights took off their broad, plated shoes to gain a firmer hold with the felt slippers worn under the armour, for no one wished to be left behind. At the first rampart there was a fierce conflict, for it was splendidly defended, and while the Good Knight’s company cried “Bayard! Bayard! France!” the enemy replied with “Marco! Marco!” making so much noise as to drown the sound of the hand-guns. The Doge, Andrea Gritti, encouraged his followers by saying to them in the Italian tongue: “Hold firm, my friends, the French will soon be tired, and if we can defeat this Bayard, the others will never come on.”
But in spite of all his encouragement his men began to give way, and seeing this the Good Knight cried: “Push on, push on, comrades! It is ours; only march forward and we have won.” He himself was the first to enter and cross the rampart with about a thousand men following after him, and so with much fighting the first fort was taken with great loss of life to the defenders.
But in the very moment of victory the Good Knight was wounded, receiving the blow of a pike in his thigh, which entered in so deeply that the iron was broken and remained in the wound. He believed himself stricken to death from the pain he suffered, and turning to his friend, the lord of Molart, he said: “Companion, advance with your men, the city is gained; but I can go no further for I am dying.” He was losing so much blood that he felt he must either die without confession, or else permit two of his archers to carry him out of the melee and do their best to staunch the wound.
When the news spread that their hero and champion was mortally wounded the whole army, captains and men alike, were all moved to avenge his death, and fought with fierce courage. Nothing could resist them, and at length they entered pell-mell into the city, where the citizens and the women threw great stones and boiling water from the windows upon the invaders, doing more harm than all the soldiers had done. But the men of Venice were utterly defeated, and many thousands remained in their last sleep in the great piazza and the narrow streets where they had been pursued by the enemy. Of that proud army which had held Brescia with bold defiance, such as were not slain were taken prisoners, and among these was the Doge of Venice himself. Then followed an awful time of pillage and every form of cruelty and disorder, as was ever the way in those days when a city was taken by storm. The spoils taken were valued at three millions of crowns, and this in the end proved the ruin of the French power in Italy, for so many of the soldiers, demoralised by plunder, deserted with their ill-gotten gains and went home.
Meantime the wounded Bayard was borne into the city by his two faithful archers and taken to a quiet street from whence the tide of battle had passed on. Here they knocked at the door of a fine house whose master had fled to a monastery, leaving his wife in charge. The good lady opened it at once to receive the wounded soldier, and Bayard, turning to his men, bade them guard the house against all comers, being assured that when they heard his name none would attempt to enter. “And rest assured that what you lose in the matter of spoil I will make good to you,” he added. The lady of the house led the way to her guest-chamber, whither the Good Knight was carried, and she threw herself on her knees before him, saying: “Noble lord, I present to you this house and all that is in it, for it is yours by right of war, but I pray you to spare my honour and my life and that of my two young daughters….” She had hidden away the poor girls in an attic under the hay, but Bayard soon set her mind at rest, and gave her his knightly word that her house would be as safe as a sanctuary. Then he asked if she knew of a surgeon, and she went to fetch her own doctor, under the escort of one of the archers. When he arrived he dressed the wound, which was very deep and jagged, but he assured his patient that he was in no danger of death, and would probably be on horseback again in less than a month.
Great was the joy of the Duc de Nemours and of all the French army when this good report reached them, and the general, who remained in Brescia for about a week, paid him a visit every day. He tried to comfort him by the prospect of another battle before long against the Spaniards, and bade him be quick and get well, for they could not do without him. The Good Knight made reply that if there should be a battle he would not miss it for the love he bore to his dear Gaston de Foix and for the King’s service; rather he would be carried thither in a litter.
Before leaving, when he had placed the hapless city in some kind of order and government, Gaston sent the Good Knight many presents and five hundred crowns, which he at once gave to his faithful archers. The Duke had, indeed, no choice about his movements, for he received most urgent letters from the King of France, who wanted the Spaniards to be driven out of Lombardy as soon as possible, for France was threatened on every side, by the King of England and by the Swiss.
The Good Knight was compelled to remain in bed for nearly five weeks, to his great annoyance, for he received news from the French camp every day, and there was constant talk of an approaching battle. So he sent for the surgeon who attended him and told him that all this worry was making him much worse, and that he must be allowed to join the camp. Seeing what kind of warrior he had to deal with, the good man replied that the wound was not closed but was healing well, and that there would be no danger in his sitting on horseback, but the wound must be carefully dressed night and morning by his barber. If any one had given Bayard a fortune he would not have been so delighted, and he settled to start in two days’ time. On the morning when he was to leave after dinner, the good lady of the house came to speak to him. She knew that by the laws of war she, her daughters, and her husband (who had long since returned from the monastery where he had taken refuge) were all prisoners of this French knight, and all that was in the house belonged to him. But she had found him so kind and courteous that she hoped to gain his favour by a handsome present, and she brought with her one of her servants bearing a steel casket containing 2500 ducats. On entering the Good Knight’s chamber she fell on her knees before him, but he would not suffer her to speak a word until she was seated by his side. Then she poured out all her gratitude for his knightly courtesy and protection, and at last offered him the casket, opening it to show what it contained. But Bayard put it aside with a friendly smile, and replied:
“On my word, dear lady, I have never cared for money all my life! No riches could ever be so precious to me as the kindness and devoted care which you have shown to me during my stay with you, and I assure you that so long as I live you will always have a faithful gentleman at your command. I thank you very much for your ducats, but I pray that you will take them back….” However, the lady was so much distressed at his refusal that he at length accepted the casket, but begged her to send her daughters to wish him good-bye. When they came and would have fallen on their knees before him, he would not suffer such humility, but thanked them for all their kindness in cheering him with their lute and spinet and singing during his illness, and begged them to accept the ducats contained in their mother’s casket, which he poured out into their aprons whether they would or not. Overcome by his courteous persuasion, the mother thanked him with tears in her eyes: “Thou flower of knighthood to whom none can compare, may the Blessed Saviour reward thee in this world and the next.” When the Good Knight’s horses were brought round at mid-day, after dinner, the two fair maidens brought him some presents of their own needlework, bracelets made with hair bound with gold and silver threads, and a little embroidered purse, which he gallantly placed in his sleeve, and the bracelets on his arms, with many thanks, to the great delight of the girls. Thus with friendly words and courtly farewells he took his leave, and rode away with a goodly company of friends towards the camp near Ravenna, where he was welcomed with the greatest joy and honour by all the French army.
When Gaston de Foix, Duke of Nemours, arrived at the camp before Ravenna he assembled all the captains together to consider what was to be done, for the French army began to suffer very much on account of the scarcity of provisions, which could only be obtained with great difficulty. They were very short of bread and wine, because the Venetians had cut off the supplies from one side and the Spanish army held all the coast of Romagna.
There was also another reason for haste, which was not yet known to the French leaders. Maximilian had long been uncertain and vacillating in his alliances, but had now definitely decided to join the side of Pope Julius and the King of Spain. As usual there were companies of German and Swiss mercenaries both in the Italian army and also with the French, and these owed some kind of allegiance to the sovereign of their land. Thus it was that the Emperor had sent word to the companies of German “landsknechte” that they were to retire home at once and were not to fight against the Spaniards. Now it so happened that this letter had only been seen by the Captain Jacob, who commanded these mercenaries in the French army, and he, being a great friend of Bayard, privately asked his advice, first telling him that having accepted the pay of the French King he had no intention of thus betraying him in the hour of battle. But he suggested that it would be well to hurry on the impending battle before other letters should come from the Emperor and give the men an excuse for retiring. The Good Knight saw how urgent the matter was and advised him to declare it to the general, the Duc de Nemours.
Duke Gaston, who had now heard of the Emperor’s letter, said that they had no choice, and also that his uncle, the King of France, was sending constant messengers to hurry on war operations as he was in sore straits. Bayard was asked to give his opinion, and he modestly replied that he had only just arrived and others might know more, but as far as he could learn, the besieged were promised that a large army from Naples and Rome would come to their help in a few days, certainly before Easter, and this was Maundy Thursday. “And on the other hand,” he added, “our men have no provisions and the horses are reduced to eating willow leaves, so that each day’s delay makes it worse for us. You see, too, the King our master writes to us every day to hasten our movements, therefore I advise that we give battle. But we must use all caution for we have to do with brave and good fighting men, and we cannot deny the risk and danger. There is one comfort: the Spaniards have been in Romagna for a year, fed like fish in the water till they are fat and full, while our men, having undergone much hardship, have longer breath. Remember that to him who fights longest the camp will remain.”
At this every one smiled, for Bayard always had such a bright and pleasant way of putting things that men loved to hear him. His advice was followed and all was made ready for a determined assault on the city next day, which was Good Friday. The captains and their men set forth in gallant mood, as though they went to a wedding, and so fierce was the attack of the artillery that before long a small breach was made in the fortification, but the defenders fought so well that it was not possible to break through and at length the retreat was sounded. This was really a fortunate thing, as if the soldiery had begun pillaging the place the coming battle would certainly have been lost, and the relieving army was now within two miles of Ravenna.
It would be too long to follow the whole story of that fierce and desperate conflict, where both sides fought with the utmost skill and valour. The Spaniards certainly carried out their usual tactics of constantly taking aim at the horses of the French riders, for they have a proverb which says: “When the horse is dead the man-at-arms is lost.” Their war-cry was: “Spain! Spain! St. Iago!” to which the other side replied by another furious onslaught to the shouts of “France! France!” And wherever the Good Knight passed, “Bayard! Bayard!” was the clarion note which cheered on his company, ever in the forefront of battle. The French artillery was used with great success, and as for the young general, Gaston de Foix, he led forward his men again and again with splendid success. It was late in the day and already the tide of victory was on the side of the French, when the Good Knight, who was riding in pursuit of the flying enemy, said to the Duke: “Praise be to God, you have won the battle, my lord, and the world will ring with your fame. I pray you to remain here by the bridge and rally your men-at-arms to keep them from pillaging the camp. But do not leave, I entreat, till we return.” It would have been well, indeed, if he had remembered this, but some time later, in the tumult and confusion, he saw some Gascons being driven across the canal by a few Spanish fugitives, and with his usual impetuous chivalry, Gaston threw himself to their rescue, without waiting to see who followed him.
He found himself hemmed in between the canal and a deep ditch, attacked by desperate men with pikes; his horse was killed and he fought on foot with only his sword. His companions, who had quickly seen his danger, were trampled down or thrust into the water, and in vain his cousin, de Lautrec, shouted to the Spaniards, “Do not kill him; he is our general, the brother of your Queen” (Germaine de Foix). The gallant young Duke fell covered with wounds, and de Lautrec was left for dead, before their assailants turned and continued their flight to Ravenna. It so chanced that some distance farther the Good Knight met them, and would have attacked them, but they pleaded humbly for their lives, which could make no difference now the battle was won. Bayard let them go, little knowing that they had done to death his dear lord and beloved friend, Gaston de Foix.
The Good Knight wrote to his uncle on April 14, 1512:
“Sir, if our King has gained the battle I vow to you that we poor gentlemen have lost it; for while we were away in pursuit of the enemy … my lord of Nemours … was killed and never was there such grief and lamentation as overwhelms our camp, for we seem to have lost everything. If our dear lord had lived to his full age (he was but twenty-four) he would have surpassed all other princes, and his memory would have endured so long as the world shall last…. Sir, yesterday morning the body of my lord (Gaston de Foix, Duc de Nemours) was borne to Milan with the greatest honour we could devise, with two hundred men-at-arms, the many banners taken in this battle carried trailing on the ground before his body, with his own standards triumphantly floating behind him…. We have lost many other great captains, and amongst them my friend Jacob of the German foot-soldiers … and I assure you that for a hundred years the kingdom of France will not recover from our loss….–Your humble servitor, BAYARD.”
The brilliant victory won outside the walls of Ravenna was the last successful engagement of the French army which, threatened on every side, was soon “to melt away like mist flying before the wind.” The day after the battle Ravenna was pillaged by the French adventurers and “landsknechte” with the usual unfortunate result, that they forsook their masters and returned home with their booty.
This gallant young prince was indeed a terrible loss both to his friends and to his country. His uncle, Louis XII., is said to have exclaimed, on hearing of the death of the Duke of Nemours: “Would to God that I had lost Italy, and that Gaston and the others who fell at Ravenna were still alive!”
It was difficult to fill his place, but Chabannes la Palisse was chosen to the command of the army, as Lautrec had been grievously wounded and was now at Ferrara, where he ultimately recovered.
The French army was already weary and dispirited when the troops of the Pope and his allies bore down upon them in great numbers; and after several attempts at resistance they were compelled to retire to Pavia, which they hoped to defend. However, they had barely time to fortify the various gates before the enemy was upon them, two days later. By the advice of Bayard, a bridge of boats was made across the river as a way of retreat, for the stone bridge was sure to be guarded by the enemy, and, as we shall see, this proved to be of immense value. By some means, the Swiss managed to enter the town by the citadel and advanced to the market-place, where, on the alarm being sounded, they were met by the foot-soldiers and some men-at-arms, amongst whom were the Captain Louis d’Ars, who was Governor, La Palisse, and the lord of Imbercourt. But, above all, the Good Knight did incredible things, for with about twenty or thirty men-at-arms he held all the Swiss at bay for about two hours in a narrow passage, fighting the whole time with such desperate energy that he had two horses killed under him.
It was now that the bridge of boats came into use, and the artillery was first preparing to cross when Captain Pierre du Pont, Bayard’s nephew, who was keeping a watch on the enemy, came to tell the company fighting in the market-place: “Gentlemen, retire at once; for above our bridge a number of Swiss are arriving in little boats, ten at a time, and when they have enough men they will enclose us in this city and we shall all be cut to pieces.”
He was so wise and valiant a leader that his words were obeyed, and the French retreated, always fighting, as far as their bridge, hotly pursued, so that there was heavy skirmishing. However, the horsemen passed over safely, while about three hundred foot-soldiers remained behind to guard the entrance of the bridge. But a great misfortune happened, for when the French had just succeeded in taking across the last piece of artillery, a long “culverin”[1] (cannon), named _Madame de Forli_,[2] which had been re-taken from the Spaniards at Ravenna, was so heavy that it sank the first boat, and the poor soldiers, seeing they were lost, escaped as best they could, but many were killed and others drowned.
[Footnote 1: Cannon of 5-1/2 inches bore; weight of the shot 17-1/2 lbs.]
[Footnote 2: Named after the famous Catarina Sforza, the warlike Lady of Forli.]
When the French had crossed the bridge they destroyed it, although they were no longer pursued, but a great misfortune befell Bayard. He was, as usual, in the place of danger, protecting the retreat of his company, when he was wounded by the shot from the town of a small cannon called a “fowler.” It struck him between the shoulder and the neck with such force that all the flesh was torn off to the bone, and those who saw the shot thought he was killed. But although he was in agony and knew that he was seriously wounded, he said to his companions: “Gentlemen, it is nothing.” They tried to staunch the wound with moss from the trees, and some of his soldiers tore up their shirts for bandages, as there was no surgeon at hand. It was in this unfortunate condition that the Good Knight accompanied the French army on that sad retreat from place to place, until at last they reached Piedmont and crossed the Alps.
Less than three months after the victory of Ravenna the triumphant allies had re-taken Bologna, Parma, and Piacenza without a blow; had encouraged Genoa to assert her independence; and Italy, with the exception of a few citadels, had escaped from French rule.
Bayard, who suffered much from his wound, was carried to Grenoble, where his good uncle the Bishop, who had first started him in his career of arms, received him with the greatest affection. He was warmly welcomed and made much of in his native land, and possibly the excitement, combined with his serious wound, was too much for him, as he fell ill with fever and for more than a fortnight his life was despaired of.
Prayers and supplications were made for him throughout the whole country, especially in all the churches of Grenoble itself, and, as the chronicler remarks, “there must have been some good person whose prayers were heard,” for the Good Knight gradually grew better, and before many weeks he was as well and as gay as ever. Never was any one more feasted and entertained than he was during the three months when he remained with his uncle, the Bishop of Grenoble. A very interesting letter has been preserved which this good prelate wrote to the Queen of France at this time. He thanks her for her great kindness in sending her doctor, Maitre Pierre, whose skill has had so much effect in curing his nephew. He also informs Her Majesty that he has spoken to Bayard about the marriage she suggests for him, but with all due gratitude he does not find himself in a position to marry, and has never given the subject a thought….
This is exactly what we might have expected from the good Anne of Brittany. She had such a passion for match-making that she had obtained from the Pope a “portable” altar, which always travelled with her, that she might have a marriage solemnised at any time.
[Illustration: Bayard presented to the King of England.]
[Illustration: HENRY _the_ EIGHTH KING OF ENGLAND _from the portrait by Hans Holbein_.]
CHAPTER VIII
The next war in which Bayard was engaged was that in which Louis XII. was attacked by the King of Spain in Navarre. Henry VIII. was at the same time preparing to invade the north of France, landing near Calais, and the Swiss were already pouring into Burgundy.
As we may expect, Bayard was not long without being sent on some perilous adventure. He was at the siege of Pampeluna with the deposed King Jean d’Albret of Navarre and the lord of La Palisse, when they told him there was a certain castle about four leagues off which it would be well for him to take, as the garrison was a constant annoyance to the French. The Good Knight at once set off with his own company, that of Captain Bonneval, a certain number of adventurers, and two troops of “landsknechte.” When he arrived before the fortress, he sent a trumpeter to proclaim to those within that they must yield it to their rightful sovereign, the King of Navarre, in which case they would save their lives and goods, but if the place had to be taken by assault they would have no mercy.
The Spaniards were valiant men and loyal subjects of the King of Spain, and they made reply that they would not yield the fortress and still less themselves. Upon this Bayard put his artillery in position and made such good use of it that a breach was soon made in the walls, but it was high up and not easy to make use of. The Good Knight then sounded the order to assault and commanded the “landsknechte” to advance. Their interpreter said that it was their rule, when a place was to be taken by assault, that they should have double pay. The Good Knight would have nothing to do with their rules, but he promised that if they took the place they should have what they asked for. But not a single man of them would mount the breach. Thereupon Bayard sounded the retreat, and then made an attack with the artillery as though he wished to enlarge the breach, but he had another plan. He called one of his men-at-arms, by name Little John, and said to him: “My friend, you can do me a good service which will be well rewarded. You see that tower at the corner of the castle; when you hear the assault begin take ladders, and with thirty or forty men scale that tower, which you will find undefended.” So it turned out, for all the garrison went to defend the breach, while Little John and his men mounted the tower unseen and cried out, “France! France! Navarre! Navarre!” The defenders, finding themselves assailed on every side, did their best; but the castle was soon taken, and the whole place was pillaged and left in charge of the King of Navarre’s men.
In this year, 1513, died Julius II., the great warrior Pope, a constant foe to the French, and he was succeeded by the Cardinal dei Medici, Pope Leo X.
Louis XII., having most reluctantly withdrawn his troops from Italy, now prepared to meet an invasion of Picardy by the English. He sent a large body of troops to the assistance of the lord of Piennes, Governor of Picardy, commanded by the finest captains of the kingdom, and amongst these was Bayard. In the month of June 1513 a large army had landed with Henry VIII. near Calais; a most convenient place for the invasion of France, as it was in possession of the English. A strong force was sent on to besiege the town of Therouanne in Artois, but the King himself remained behind at Calais for some tournaments and festivities. When he set forth, a few weeks later, to join his army he had a very narrow escape of being taken prisoner by Bayard, who met him on the way.
It happened that the English King was accompanied by about 12,000 foot-soldiers, of whom 4000 were landed, but he had no horsemen, while Bayard commanded a detachment of nearly 1200 men-at-arms. The two armies came within a cannon-shot of each other, and Henry VIII., seeing his danger, dismounted from his horse and placed himself in the middle of the “landsknechte.” The French were only too eager to charge through the foot-soldiers, and Bayard implored the Governor of Picardy, under whose orders he was, to allow him to lead them on. “My lord, let us charge them!” he exclaimed; “if they give way at the first charge we shall break through, but if they make a strong stand we can always retire, for they are on foot and we on horseback.” But the lord of Piennes only replied: “Gentlemen, the King my master has charged me on my life to risk nothing, but only to defend his land; do what you please, but for my part I will never give my consent.”
The Good Knight, brought up in strict military discipline, was not one to break the law of obedience, and he yielded with bitter disappointment in his heart. The timid caution of the Governor of Picardy had thus lost him, in all probability, the chance of a splendid adventure, for the capture of King Henry VIII. at the very beginning of the war might have changed the whole history of Europe.
As it was, the King was suffered to pass on his way, but Bayard obtained leave to harass the retreating army, and with his company took possession of a piece of artillery called _Saint John_, for Henry VIII. had twelve of these big cannons, to which he gave the name of “his twelve apostles.”
The King of England reached the camp outside Therouanne in safety, and a few days later was joined by the Emperor Maximilian, who was welcomed with much feasting. Their combined forces are said to have amounted to 40,000 men, and they soon began a vigorous bombardment of the city, which was bravely defended with a strong garrison, who did their best with the limited means at their disposal. Therouanne was a strongly-fortified city, but the massive walls, which had formerly been impregnable, could not stand against a long siege with this new artillery.
The besieged city was very short of provisions and the great object of the French was to supply these; indeed Louis XII., who had advanced as far as Amiens, was sending constant orders that this must be done at any risk. At the same time he was very anxious to avoid a general engagement as his army would be no match for the combined English and Burgundian forces. French historians tell us that this was the cause of that disastrous encounter which, to their great annoyance, has been called the “Battle of Spurs.” They point out that the troops were not sent to fight, but only to revictual a besieged place, and that the King’s orders were that, if attacked, “they were to retreat at a walk, and if they were pressed, go from a walk to a trot, and from a trot to a gallop, for they were to risk nothing.”
This was the French plan to send provisions for the beleaguered city, a very difficult enterprise on account of the immense army which surrounded it. It was arranged that the cavalry should make a feigned attack on the side of Guinegaste, in order to draw the enemy in that direction, while eight hundred “stradiots” (light horse, chiefly Albanians in the service of France) were to make a dash on the other side, gallop through the defending force, reach the moat and throw in the bundles of provisions which they carried on the necks of their horses. This we are told the Albanians actually succeeded in doing, and it seemed as if this bold stroke would be successful, for the besieged, under cover of night, would be able to fetch in the much-needed provisions.
The French men-at-arms, meantime, had advanced to the attack and, after some skirmishing with the English and Imperial troops, were beginning to retreat somewhat carelessly, when they suddenly saw a number of foot-soldiers with artillery appearing on the top of the hill of Guinegaste, preparing to bar their way. Only then did they become fully aware of the imminent danger in which they were, and understood that, by some treachery, their plans had been made known to the enemy, who had thus made all preparations for their destruction.
King Henry VIII. had heard of the plan of relief, and before daybreak had placed ten or twelve thousand English archers and four or five thousand German foot-soldiers on a hillock with eight or ten pieces of artillery, in order that when the French had passed by, his men might descend and surround them, while in front he had ordered all the horsemen, both English and Burgundian, to attack them. When the French soldiers found themselves caught in this ambush, and the retreat was sounded by the trumpeters, they turned back, but were so hotly pursued that the gentle trot soon became a wild gallop and they fled in disorder, notwithstanding the cries of their captains: “Turn, men-at-arms, turn, it is nothing!” The Good Knight’s company was hurried along with the others, but again and again he rallied them, until at last he was left with only fourteen or fifteen men-at-arms on a little bridge only wide enough for two horsemen to pass at a time, while the stream was too deep to ford as it was dammed up to turn a mill. Here Bayard came to a stand and cried to his companions: “My friends, we can hold this bridge for an hour, and I will send an archer to tell my lord of La Palisse that we have checked the enemy and this is the place to attack them.”
We can picture to ourselves how gallantly he fought, for he loved nothing better than to defend a narrow bridge, but the pursuing army proved too overwhelming, for a company of horsemen went round beyond the mill and attacked the brave little party of defenders from behind. When Bayard saw that their position was desperate, he cried: “Gentlemen, we yield ourselves, for our valour will serve us nothing. Our horses are done up, our friends are three leagues away, and when the English archers arrive they will cut us to pieces.” One by one the knights yielded, but Bayard saw a Burgundian gentleman on the bank who, overcome by the great heat of that August day, had taken off his “armet” (helmet) and was too exhausted to think about taking prisoners. The Good Knight rode straight at him, held his sword at the man’s throat and cried: “Yield, man-at-arms, or you are dead.” Never was man more surprised than this Burgundian, who thought that all the fighting was over, but with the cold steel threatening him there was nothing for him but surrender. “I yield, as I am taken in this way, but who are you?” he asked.
“I am the Captain Bayard and I also yield myself to you,” was the reply. “Take my sword, and I pray you let me go with you.” So he was taken to the English camp and well treated by the gentleman in his tent; but on the fifth day Bayard said to him: “Sir, I should like to return to my own camp for I grow weary of this.” “But we have said nothing about your ransom,” exclaimed the other. “My ransom?” said the Good Knight. “But what about yours, for you were my prisoner first? We will fight out the matter, if you like.” But the gentleman had heard of Bayard’s fame and was by no means anxious to fight, surprised as he was at this new point of view. But he was a courteous gentleman, and offered to abide by the decision of the captains. Meantime the rumour spread that the great Bayard was in the camp, and there was much excitement. The Emperor Maximilian sent for him and feasted him well, expressing great delight at meeting him again. After much pleasant talk he remarked: “In the days when we fought together it seems to me that we were told Bayard never fled.” “If I had fled, sire, I should not be here now,” he replied.
Presently the King of England arrived and desired that the Good Knight might be presented to him, as he had always wished to make his acquaintance. Then they began to talk about the French defeat, and both Henry and Maximilian made some severe remarks, upon which the Good Knight exclaimed: “Upon my soul! the French men-at-arms were in no wise to blame, for they had express commands from their captains not to fight, because our force was not to be compared with yours, for we had neither foot-soldiers nor artillery. And indeed, high and noble lords, you must know that the nobility of France is famous throughout the world. I do not speak of myself.”
“Indeed, my lord of Bayard,” said the King of England, “if all were like you I should soon have to raise the siege of this town. But now you are a prisoner.” “I do not own to it, sire, and I will appeal to the Emperor and yourself.” He then told the whole story in the presence of the gentleman with whom he had the adventure, and who answered for the truth of it. The Emperor and the King looked at each other, and Maximilian spoke first, saying that Bayard was not a prisoner, but rather the other knight; still, all things considered, he thought that they were quits, and that the Good Knight might depart when it seemed well to the King of England. To this suggestion Henry VIII. agreed, but required that Bayard should give his word to remain for six weeks without bearing arms, after which time he could return to his company. Meantime he should be free to visit all the towns of Flanders. For this gracious permission the Good Knight humbly thanked both the princes, and took leave of them after a few days, during which he was treated with great honour. Henry VIII. made secret proposals to Bayard that he should enter into his service, offering him high position and great possessions. But this was labour lost, for, as the chronicler says, “he was a most loyal Frenchman.”
Therouanne, whose walls had been constantly bombarded with much destruction, was soon compelled by famine to capitulate. The garrison were to march out freely, with all their arms and armour; but the fortifications were destroyed and the town partly burnt.
[Illustration: FRANCIS _the_ FIRST KING _of_ FRANCE _from the portrait by Titian Vecelli_.]
CHAPTER IX
The next year, 1514, brought many changes in France. First came the death of the good Queen Anne of Brittany, who was greatly lamented by her husband and mourned by all her people. The next notable event was the marriage of the Princess Claude, her daughter, to the young Duke of Angouleme, who was to succeed to the throne under the name of Francis I.
He had not long to wait for his inheritance as Louis XII., having made an alliance with England, was induced for political reasons to marry the Princess Mary, sister of Henry VIII. The poor King was already in ill-health, and he only survived his wedding three months, dying on New Year’s day, 1515. He had a splendid funeral at St. Denis, which was scarcely over before all the great nobles of the realm put off their mourning and hastened in splendid magnificence to Rheims to the coronation of the new King, Francis I., a gay and handsome youth of twenty.
The young King at once set about carrying out the desire of his heart–the conquest of Milan. Charles de Bourbon was made Constable of France, and a great army was collected at Grenoble. But secret news was received that the Swiss were guarding on the other side the only passes which were then thought possible for the crossing of armies. One was the Mont Cenis, where the descent is made by Susa, and the other was by the Mont Genevre. Bourbon, however, heard of a new way by the Col d’Argentiere, and meantime sent several French generals and the Chevalier Bayard to cross the mountains by the Col de Cabre and make a sudden raid upon Prospero Colonna, who with a band of Italian horsemen was awaiting the descent of the French army into Piedmont. The gallant little company rode across the rocky Col, where cavalry had never passed before, descended by Droniez into the plain of Piedmont, crossed the Po at a ford, where they had to swim their horses, inquired at the Castle of Carmagnola and found that Prospero Colonna and his company had left barely a quarter of an hour before.
The captains considered what they should do: some were for advancing, others hesitated, for if Colonna had any suspicion of their plan he would call the Swiss to his help, for there was a large force in the neighbourhood. It was Bayard who settled the question by saying: “Since we have come thus far, my advice is that we continue the pursuit, and if we come across them in the plain, it will be a pity if some of them do not fall into our hands.”
All cried that he was quite right, and that they must start as soon as possible, but first it would be well if some one were sent on in advance, in disguise, to find out the exact position of the enemy. This duty was given to the lord of Moretto, who carried out the inquiry very quickly, bringing back word that Colonna and his escort were preparing to dine at Villafranca in full security.
They next settled the order of their match: Humbercourt was to go in front with one hundred archers; a bow-shot behind him Bayard would follow with one hundred men-at-arms, and then Chabannes de la Palisse and d’Aubigny would bring up the rest of their men.
Prospero Colonna had good spies, and he heard from them as he was going to Mass at Villafranca that the French were in the fields in great numbers. He replied that he was quite sure it could only be Bayard and his company, unless the others were able to fly over the mountains. As he was returning from Mass, other spies came up to him with the news: “My lord, I have seen close by more than a thousand French horsemen, and they are coming to find you here.” He was a little taken aback, and turned to one of his gentlemen, to whom he said: “Take twenty horsemen and go along the road to Carmagnola for two or three miles, and see if there is anything to alarm us.”
All the same he commanded the Marshal of his bands to have the trumpet sounded, and to start for Pignerol, where he would follow when he had eaten a mouthful. Meantime the French were marching forward in haste, and were about a mile and a half from Villafranca, when, coming out of a little wood, they met the scouts sent by the lord Prospero to find them. When these caught sight of the approaching enemy they turned straight round and galloped off as hard as they could go. The lord of Humbercourt and his archers pursued them at full speed, sending word to Bayard to make haste.
The French knights rode at such a pace that they reached the gate of the town at the same time as the Italians, and with their cry of “France! France!” they managed to keep the gate open until the arrival of the Good Knight and the rest of their company, when after some sharp fighting it was strongly held. They also secured the other gate of the town, but two Albanians managed to escape and carry news of the disaster to a company of four thousand Swiss about three miles off.
Prospero Colonna was surprised at dinner, and would have defended himself, but when he saw that defence was hopeless he yielded himself most reluctantly to this Bayard, whom he had vowed “that he would catch like a pigeon in a cage.” As he cursed his ill-fortune in having been thus taken by surprise, instead of meeting the French in the open field, the Good Knight with his usual courteous chivalry tried to comfort him, saying: “My lord Prospero, it is the fortune of war! You lose now, and will win next time! As for meeting us in the open field, it would be a great pleasure to us French, for if you knew our men when they are roused to battle you would not find it easy to escape….” The Italian lord replied coldly: “In any case I should have been glad to have the chance of meeting!”
Besides Colonna, several great captains were taken prisoners, and the place was found to be full of rich spoils, gold and silver plate, splendid equipments, and above all in value, six or seven hundred valuable horses. Unfortunately for the French they were not able to carry away all this, for news arrived of the approach of the Swiss troop which had been summoned; indeed they entered Villafranca at one gate as the French rode out with their prisoners on the other side, but there could be no pursuit as the Swiss were all on foot.
The chief military advantage of this wonderful raid was that it kept all these Italian horsemen away from the coming battle at Marignano.
Francis I. was delighted to hear of Bayard’s success, and finding that the Swiss were retreating towards Milan he followed in pursuit of them, took Novara on the way, and advanced with his army as far as Marignano.
A terrible melee followed, for as the light failed confusion increased. We hear of a most striking adventure which befell the Good Knight Bayard late in the evening. His horse had been killed under him, and the second which he mounted became so frantic when his master charged the Swiss lances that he broke his bridle and dashed into the midst of the enemy until he became entangled in the vines trained from tree to tree. Bayard kept his presence of mind, and in order to escape instant death, slipped gently from his horse, cast off his helmet and the thigh-pieces of his armour, and then managed to creep on hands and knees along a ditch until he reached his own people. The first man he met was the Duke of Lorraine, who was much surprised to see him on foot, and at once gave him a wonderful horse which had once belonged to the Good Knight himself, and had been left for dead on the field of Ravenna, but was found next day and brought back to Bayard, who cured him. This was a most unexpected piece of good fortune, and he was able to borrow a helmet from another friend and so return to the fight, which continued for a while by moonlight.
We have a vivid account of the weird and strange night which followed, when the trumpets of France sounded the retreat and the Swiss blew their cowhorns, as is their custom, and the two armies, with neither ditch nor hedge between them, awaited the coming day within a stone’s-throw of each other. Those who were mounted sat on their horses with only such food or drink as they chanced to have with them … “and it is the firm belief that no man slept during all those hours.” In the King’s letter to his mother, Louise of Savoie, he says “that he remained on horseback with his helmet on, until he was compelled to rest for a while on a gun-carriage, under the care of an Italian trumpeter … when the young King asked for water, it could only be obtained from the ditch close by.”
When the morning broke, the battle began again with fresh vigour on both sides; thousands of brave men fell, and the noblest names of France were amongst the slain on that fatal field. In the end the victory remained with the French, and the survivors of the vanquished Swiss retreated in good order, for the King, who never knew when he might need their services, gave orders that they were not to be pursued. When all was over, on the Friday evening, Francis I., who had fought throughout with gallant spirit and valour, requested the honour of knighthood from the noble Bayard. In this the young King showed his just appreciation of his most gallant subject, the very flower of French chivalry, the hero of so many battles.
The French army now continued its victorious march to Milan, which surrendered at once, and the King, after leaving Charles de Bourbon as his Lieutenant-General, went to meet Pope Leo X. at Bologna and soon after returned to his own land. Bayard was left in Milan and did good service when it was attacked later by the Emperor Maximilian.
In 1519 the Emperor Maximilian died, and was succeeded in his dominions by his grandson, Charles V., already King of Spain. It was a great blow to Francis I., who had used every effort to obtain this honour himself; and the rivalry then started continued all his life. As Mezieres was in danger of being attacked, Francis I. immediately issued orders that Bayard should be sent to defend it, as there was no man in his kingdom he would sooner trust for so important an enterprise.
This city was of immense importance at that moment, if it could be held against the might of the Emperor until the French army should be made up to its full strength and reach the frontier, where the Germans had arrived, commanded by two great captains, the Count of Nassau and the famous _condottiere_, Franz von Sickingen.
Bayard most gladly obeyed the King’s command and lost no time in making his way to Mezieres with certain young nobles, amongst whom was the young lord Montmorency, and with a goodly company of men-at-arms. When he arrived he found the place in a very poor condition to stand a siege, and he at once set to work with his usual enthusiasm to improve the fortifications. He worked himself as hard as any day labourer to encourage the others, and there was never a man-at-arms or a foot-soldier who did not eagerly follow his example. The Good Knight would say to them: “It shall not be our fault if this place is taken, seeing what a fine company we are. Why, if we had to defend a field with only a four-foot ditch round it, we would fight a whole day before we should be beaten. But, thank God, here we have ditches, walls, and ramparts, and I believe that before the enemy enters many of their men will sleep in those ditches.”
In short, such was the magic of his eloquence, that all his men thought they were in the strongest place in the world. This was soon put to the test when it was besieged on two sides, from beyond the River Meuse and from the land. Count Sickingen had about fifteen thousand men, and the other captain, Count Nassau, more than twenty thousand. A herald was sent to Bayard to point out to him that he could not hold Mezieres against their arms, that it would be a pity for so great and famous a knight to be taken by assault, and that they would give him excellent terms. And much more of the same flattering nature.
When the Good Knight had heard all the herald had to say, he asked no man’s advice, but replied with a smile: “My friend, I am surprised at these gracious messages from your masters, whom I do not know. Herald, you will return and say to them that as the King has done me the honour to trust me, I hope with God’s help to keep this frontier town so long that your captains will be more tired of besieging it than I shall to be besieged….” Then the herald was well feasted and sent away. He bore to the camp the Good Knight’s reply, which was by no means pleasant to my lords, and there was present a captain who had seen service under Bayard in Italy. He assured the company that so long as the Good Knight was alive they would never enter into Mezieres; that when cowards fought under him they became brave men, and that all his company would die with him at the breach before the enemy set foot in the town … and that his mere presence was of more value than two thousand men….
This was not pleasant to hear, and the Emperor’s captains made a furious attack with their artillery on the ramparts, which continued during four days. The Good Knight noticed that special damage was done to the walls from the camp of Count Sickingen, and considered by what means he could be induced to go back the other side of the river. So he wrote a letter to the lord Robert de la Marck, who was at Sedan, in which he hinted at a rumour he had heard that the Count might be persuaded to become an ally of the King of France. Bayard added that he desired nothing more, but Sickingen must lose no time, for his camp would soon be hemmed in by the approaching Swiss and by a sortie well timed from the town. This information was to be kept quite private….
The letter was written giving other particulars, and was then given to a peasant with a crown and the order to take it at once to Sedan from the Captain Bayard. The good man set off with it, but, as Bayard had foreseen, he had not gone far before he was taken and gave up the letter to save his life. This message greatly troubled Count Sickingen, who was already suspicious of the other general, and was not slow to imagine that he had been betrayed and left in the post of danger. The more he thought of it the more his rage increased, and at last he gave orders to sound the retreat and cross the river, to the dismay and indignation of Count Nassau, who saw that this was practically raising the siege. Angry messages passed between the two generals, until at length they were on the point of actual fighting.
The Good Knight had been watching all this from the ramparts to his great amusement, and he now thought it time to add to the confusion by a well-aimed attack of artillery, which so added to the nervous alarms of the besiegers that next morning they packed up their tents and camp equipment, and the two Counts went off in different directions, while it was a long time before they became friends again. Thus it was that Bayard kept at bay the overwhelming forces of the enemy for three weeks, until the King of France himself arrived with a great army. We see how it was that enemies of the Good Knight could never get over a kind of supernatural terror both of his splendid valour and his endless resources. King Francis sent for Bayard to his camp, and on his way thither the indomitable captain retook the town of Mouzon. He was received with the greatest honour by the King, who bestowed on him the famous order of St. Michael and the command of a hundred men-at-arms. He also made many promises of future greatness, and both he and his mother, the Queen Louise, praised Bayard to the skies. But, unfortunately, the only results of all this praise were a few empty honours and an immense amount of jealousy and ill-feeling amongst the courtiers. Indeed, we find that after this time Bayard never had any important charge given to him, and never attained the position, which he so richly deserved, of commander in time of war. It is very interesting to notice that the “Loyal Servitor”–that faithful chronicler who followed Bayard through all his campaigns, and probably often wrote at his dictation–never allows us to suspect that the Good Knight felt any bitterness at this neglect. Not one word of complaint is ever heard; he never murmured, he asked for nothing; his only anxiety was to serve his country and his king.
If Bayard was not rewarded with the prizes of his profession he was certainly always chosen when any dangerous or wearisome business was on hand.
The Good Knight was not recalled to Court, and it is supposed that, besides the jealousy which his brilliant deeds had awakened, he was also in disgrace on account of his warm friendship for Charles de Bourbon, who was now being driven to despair and ruin through the hatred of Louise de Savoie.
Bayard having been made lieutenant of the Governor of Dauphine in 1515, it was easy to keep him at a distance from Paris at his post, and with his keen and devoted interest in all matters that concerned his country, these years in a far-off province were a veritable exile. Several of his letters written during this period have been preserved, and we have also a friendly note from the King, written in December 1523, when he had settled to make another expedition to Italy to recover his former conquests there and to restore his prestige. It is evidently written in answer to an urgent appeal from Bayard to be allowed to join him, and, probably in a moment of impulse, he warmly agrees to employ his bravest captain; but, alas for France! it was not to be in the position of command and responsibility which his splendid talents and courage demanded. It was to be his last expedition, with a hero’s death as his only guerdon.
In the beginning of the year 1524 the King of France sent an army into Italy under the command of the lord of Bonnivet, his admiral, who had no qualifications for his high post beyond personal courage. He was a man of narrow views, wilful and obstinate, and from these faults in a commander-in-chief great disasters followed. A strong Imperial party, supported by Charles de Bourbon and Giovanni dei Medici, held the city of Milan, and the French camp was at a little town called Biagrasso, when Bonnivet said to the Good Knight: “My lord Bayard, you must go to Rebec with two hundred men-at-arms and the foot-soldiers of de Lorges, and so find out what is going on in Milan and check the arrival of their provisions.” Now the Good Knight never murmured at any command given him, but he saw at once what a wild and foolish scheme this was, and replied: “My lord, the half of our army would scarcely be sufficient to defend that village, placed where it is. I know our enemies, they are brave and vigilant, and you are sending me to certain shame; I pray you therefore, my lord, that you consider the matter well.” But the Admiral persisted that it would be all right, for not a mouse could leave Milan without his hearing of it, until, much against his own judgment, Bayard set forth with the men given to him. But he only took two of his own horses, for his mules and the rest of his train he sent to Novara, as though foreseeing the loss of all he had with him.
When he had reached this village of Rebec he considered how he could fortify it; but there was no means of doing so except by putting up a few barriers, for it could be entered on every side. The Good Knight wrote to Bonnivet several times, pointing out what a dangerous place it was and that he must have reinforcements if he was to hold it long, but he received no answer. Meantime the enemy in Milan had learnt through spies that the Good Knight was at Rebec with a small company, and greatly rejoiced, for it was decided to go and surprise him by night. This was exactly what Bayard feared, and he always placed half his men on the watch, and himself remained on the look-out for several nights, until he fell ill and was compelled to remain in his chamber. However, he ordered the captains who were with him to keep a good watch on all sides, and they went, or pretended to do so, until there came on a little rain, which sent them all back except a few archers.
It was this very time which the Spaniards and Italians had chosen for their attack. They marched on through the night, which was very dark, and in order to recognise each other they all wore a white shirt over their armour. When they arrived near the village they were amazed to see no one, and began to fear that the Good Knight had heard of their enterprise and had retired to Biagrasso. A hundred steps farther on they came upon the few poor archers on the watch, who fled, crying, “Alarm! Alarm!” But they were so hotly pursued that the foe was at the barriers as soon as they were.
The Good Knight, who in such danger never slept without his steel gauntlets and thigh-pieces, with his cuirass by his side, was soon armed, and mounted his horse, which was already saddled. Then, with five or six of his own men-at-arms, he rode straight to the barrier, and was joined by de Lorges and some of his foot-soldiers, who made a good fight. The village was already surrounded, and eager search was made for Bayard, who was the sole object of the expedition, and there was much shouting and confusion. When the Good Knight at the barrier heard the drums of the enemy’s foot-soldiers, he said to the Captain Lorges: “My friend, if they pass this barrier we are done for. I pray you, retire with your men, keep close together and march straight for Biagrasso, while I remain with the horsemen to protect your rear. We must leave the enemy our baggage, but let us save the men.” Lorges at once obeyed, and the retreat was carried out so cleverly that not ten men we’re lost. The Emperor’s people were still seeking for the Good Knight when he had already reached Biagrasso and spoken his mind to the Admiral. Bayard was quite broken-hearted at the misfortune which had befallen him, although it was certainly not his fault, but there is more chance in war than in anything else.
Still, there was more than chance in these disasters of the French in Italy. They had quite miscalculated the strength of their enemies, amongst whom was now the famous general, Charles de Bourbon, late Constable of France. The young French King, at a time when Spain, England, and Italy were all against him, had most unwisely deprived Bourbon of the whole of his vast estates by means of a legal quibble; and his greatest subject, driven to desperation by this ungrateful treatment, had passed over to the service of Charles V., and was now in command of the Spanish army. It was he who urged the immediate pursuit of the French when Bonnivet, discouraged by ill success and sickness in his camp, retreated from his strong position at Biagrasso. He made one blunder after another, for now that it was too late he sent a messenger to raise a levy of six thousand Swiss to join him by way of Ivria.
According to his usual gallant custom, as the army retired with forced marches towards the Alps, Bayard took command of the rear-guard, and as the Spaniards followed day by day he bore all the brunt of the constant skirmishing which took place. It was a most perilous office, for the enemy was well provided with artillery, and when the Good Knight made a gallant charge with his company and drove back the men-at-arms, he would be attacked by a shower of stones from the arquebusiers. He seemed to bear a charmed life, though ever in the post of danger, for others were wounded or killed while he escaped unhurt until a certain fatal day when the retreating French army had reached the valley of the Sesia beyond Novara. Here it was that Bonnivet saw his expected troop of Swiss allies on the opposite bank of the river, and at once sent word to them to cross over and join him. But what was his dismay when the Swiss captains replied that the King of France had not paid them or kept his word, and they had come to fetch away their comrades who were in the French army. Worse still, when this became known, all the Swiss mercenaries in his camp rose in open rebellion against Bonnivet, and lost no time in crossing the river, overjoyed to leave a losing cause and go back to their homes with so good an excuse.
The unfortunate French commander was in despair and hoping to hide the catastrophe from the pursuing enemy, he ordered a brisk skirmish, in which he took part with plenty of courage and was severely wounded in the arm. The Good Knight Bayard did prodigies of valour, driving back a whole company of arquebusiers, but in the moment of triumph he was struck by the stone from an arquebus and received mortal injury. Raising the hilt of his sword in the sign of the cross, he cried aloud: “Miserere mei, Deus secundum magnam misericordiam tuam!” He refused to be taken away, saying that he had never turned his back on his enemy, and his faithful steward Jacques Jeffrey and his squire lifted him from his horse and placed him with his back to a tree, still facing the foe with a brave countenance.
We have a most pathetic and touching account of this last scene, in which the Good Knight without Fear and without Reproach died as he had lived, bearing himself with humble devotion towards God and loving care and thought towards all men. His friends would have borne him away, but he implored them to leave him and seek their own safety, for he was in such terrible pain that he could not endure to be moved. He sent his last salutations to the King his master, and to all his companions, and took an affectionate leave of his heart-broken friends, who obeyed his command, all but the one faithful attendant who remained with him to the end. This was his steward, Jacques Jeffrey, and we are told of the poor man’s grief and despair, while his master sought to comfort him with brave and noble words. “Jacques, my friend, cease your lament, for it is the will of God to take me away from this world where by His grace I have long dwelt and received more good things and honours than I deserve. The only regret that I have in dying is that I have failed in my duty … and I pray my Creator in His infinite mercy to have pity on my poor soul….”
Nothing could exceed the consternation and sorrow which spread through the French camp when the news reached them that Bayard was wounded and in mortal agony. The same feeling was shared by his enemies, for to them the name of Bayard represented the most perfect knight in all the world, the pattern of chivalry whom every true man sought to imitate from afar.
In sad procession the captains of Spain and Italy came to do honour and reverence to the dying hero. Amongst them the Marquis of Pescara (the husband of Vittoria Colonna) found noble words to speak the praise and admiration which filled the hearts of all. “Would to God, my gentle lord of Bayard, that I had been wounded nigh unto death if only you were in health again and my prisoner; for then I could have shown you how highly I esteem your splendid prowess and valour … since I first made acquaintance with arms I have never heard of any knight who even approached you in every virtue of chivalry…. Never was so great a loss for all Christendom…. But since there is no remedy for death, may God in His mercy take your soul to be with Him….” Such were the tender and pitiful regrets from the hostile camp for the cruel loss to all chivalry of the Good Knight without Fear and without Reproach.
They would have tended him with devoted service, but Bayard knew that he was past all human help, and only prayed that he might not be moved in those last hours of agony. A stately tent was spread out above him to protect him from the weather, and he was laid at rest beneath it with the gentlest care. He asked for a priest, to whom he devoutly made his confession, and with touching words of prayer and resignation to the will of his heavenly Father, he gave back his soul to God on April 30, 1524.
With the greatest sorrow and mourning of both armies, his body was carried to the church, where solemn services were held for him during two days, and then Bayard was borne by his own people into Dauphine.
A great company came to meet the funeral procession at the foot of the mountains, and he was borne with solemn state from church to church until Notre Dame of Grenoble was reached, and here all the nobles of Dauphine and the people of the city were gathered to do honour to their beloved hero when the last sad rites were performed. He was mourned and lamented for many a long day as the very flower of chivalry, the Good Knight without Fear and without Reproach.
[Illustration: The Death of Bayard.]