So ended the feud between St. Aliquis and Foretvert—a less exhausting and more decisive baronial war than were many, and causing correspondingly less misery to the helpless peasants. But it has also been Conon's fortune to fight in a really great battle, one that will hereafter be set down among the most famous engagements in the annals of France.

It is a sunny afternoon. Young FranÇois and Anseau have wearied of hunting frogs beside the outer moat. Under the garden trees, Sire Eustace, tough old warrior, is meditating over a pot of hippocras. They demand of him once more the story of "the battle." For them there is only one battle—Bouvines. The seneschal, ever the slave of his youthful masters, after suitable urgings, begins.

"Now you must know, my fair damoisieux, that all this took place six years since, in the year 1214, upon the seven-and-twentieth day of July. For our sins it was extremely hot that season, so that all of us have, I trust, obtained some remission from purgatory. God grant that next time we have a great battle it be in the pleasant spring or autumn, though otherwise the saints showed to us French a great mercy. But now to commence.

"That year King John of England, having, by his evil rule and folly lost nearly all his Anjou and Norman lands to our good King Philip, sent large money and skillful ambassadors into Flanders and Germany to stir up trouble. The great counts of Flanders and Boulogne nursed grievances against their liege lord our king, and to them joined many other seigneurs of those parts, notably the Dukes of Brabant and Limburg, the Count of Holland, and chiefest of all the German Emperor Otto IV himself, who came with a huge levy of Saxons. With those rode the English Earl of Salisbury with a great band of Flemish mercenaries who took King John's ill-gained penny. Never since Duke Charles Martel smote back the Paynym had so terrible a host menaced our gentle France; and when at last, in July, the whole array under Emperor Otto came together at Valenciennes to take the road to Paris, even brave knights trembled for the king and kingdom.

"Never had the call for the royal ban and rear ban gone out more urgently than that summer. The king's messenger came to St. Aliquis with the 'brief of summons' bidding Messire Conon ride with every man and lad that could stride a horse or trudge with a spear; and so went the command through all North France. But in the south country John was making a formidable diversion from his remaining dominions in Gascony, and we of the Languedoil lands had to meet the northern shock alone.

"When Messire your Father received the summons, there was even greater furbishing than when old Foretvert defied us. Sire Conon had in the abbot and wrote his last wishes, arranged that if he fell he should be buried in the abbey church by the altar where St. Bernard had once said mass, and he left to the monks five hundred livres in return for perpetual masses for his soul. The remainder of us made vows according to ability. I say nothing of the parting, or how your mother bravely promised to guard the castle.

"So the ban was answered all through the land, and the king's great host came together. Never again shall I see so fine a mustering of knights as gathered at Peronne. It far surpassed any tournament. Every hour the banners came in, to the sound of tabors, horns, and drums. There was an enormous baggage train, so that I believe there were more mules than horses, for many barons brought their great tents, with many coffers of extra arms and fine clothing. In the rear were gathered a second array of jongleurs, peddlers and very evil women, whom not all the commands of the king, somehow, could disperse. Verily in that army there were twice as many mouths to fill as there were men to fight; likewise, short as was the campaign, there was much sickness, thanks to bad food, bad water, and, so certain even averred, to overmuch filth. The comfort was that in Otto's camp matters were, if anything, much worse.

"In any case those tumultuous days of assemblage were soon at an end. Tidings came that the Germans and Flemings were advancing, and on the twenty-fifth of July we marched into Tournai on the edge of Flanders. Messire Conon, who was at the royal council-tent, told me that the king's barons debated as to the purpose of the enemy. Would he offer fair battle in the plain near Cambrai, as we much desired, or would he strive to slip past our army and go straight toward Paris? I have been told of books concerning the ancient Roman captains, Julius CÆsar and his peers, and it would seem as if to them the moving of armies had been a business of deep sagacity, advancing your columns by careful rules, somewhat as you move your men on a gaming board. No one, however, is so sage as that to-day, and I think it was either mere fortune or (speaking as a Christian) the kind St. Denis, who guards our beautiful France, that brought the hosts together when and where they presently came.

"It was at break of day on that seven-and-twentieth of July that we quitted Tournai, intending to pass the little river Marque, to get to the town of Bouvines and thereby to be covered by certain marshes so we might be protected from surprise, and yet be able to strike the foe's rear if he should take the road to Paris. But Otto and his lords, swollen with their German and Fleming pride and confident in their great host of infantry, were determined to attack, and so kept hard after us. It is only nine miles from Tournai to Bouvines, but our long trains of baggage crawled along like snails. Therefore it was almost noon when the sumpter mules and the infantry had crossed the bridge. We of the cavalry were still on the nearer side, covering the march, when our scouts came racing in. 'The Germans! The Germans!' And there assuredly, over the rolling slopes of the cornfields beyond Bouvines, we saw the long lines of horsemen flying in a great dust cloud.

"Now there was with the king the Bishop Garin of Senlis. He was an old knight hospitaler, one of those holy brethren who, despite churchly vows, rejoice to fight in just causes, and Bishop Garin at once clapped spurs to his destrer to reconnoiter. Soon he dashed back, having discovered quite enough. He found our Lord Philip sitting under an ash tree close to the bridge eating dinner, with many great nobles, Messire Conon among them, sitting on the grass. 'Tidings, fair Sire!' cried Garin. 'The Germans will fight. Their knights are in panoply, and behind them march the infantry!'

"It was no pleasant moment for the king. His own infantry were beyond the river, but his cavalry were on this side. He could not get his horsemen across the single bridge without grievous loss; but there was, perchance, still time to bring back the foot. Therefore, with what speed we might, every man of us fell into the array, and some brave sergeants of Champagne made such charges upon Otto's vanguard that, though outnumbered and pressed back, they delayed the foe until our men could take their places and present a gallant front. As for the attackers, when they saw that we were ready to do battle, like prudent men they halted and arrayed their own lines. So for an hour both sides waited, just out of bowshot, many of us very nervous and cursing the delay—the more as the sun beat down pitilessly—although the more pious confessed hastily to the priests, who were always moving up and down the files, or at least we said our mea culpas for our sins.

"Presently you could see the whole array of the enemy spread out like some fair picture on a long tapestry. On their right, facing our Counts of Ponthieu and Dreux, were the mercenaries under Salisbury, and the men of that foul traitor Boulogne. On their left were the long lines of Flemish horsemen over against our cavaliers of Champagne and Burgundy. But we from Quelqueparte, with so many other companies, were in the center battle where flew King Philip's great oriflamme, a mighty scarlet banner of samite, surrounded by chosen cavaliers. We horsemen were in the rear. In front of us spread the French footmen—the burgher levies of the towns who answered the king's summons. 'Shame that burghers should stand before knights!' cried some of us; but the King and Bishop Garin, who seemed to know everything, understood their business, as you will see.

"It is told that just before the hosts charged King Philip prayed aloud before his bodyguard: 'Lord, I am but a man, but I am also a king. Thine it is to guard the king. Thou wilt lose nothing thereby. Wherever thou wouldst go, I will follow thee!' Also I heard that close behind the king there stood, as long as he might, the royal chaplain, William the Breton, who all through the battle, with another clerk, kept singing psalms such as 'Blessed be the Lord my strength, who teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight.' But Bishop Garin sang no psalms. Up and down the lines of horsemen he rode, thundering: 'Extend yourselves, lest the enemy outflank you. One knight should not make another his shield!' So he put all our knights in the first line of the cavalry. In the rear lines he put the mounted sergeants. We had perhaps two thousand knights and five thousand sergeants. Our infantry were over five-and-twenty thousand, but the foe had even more footmen than we, though their horse was a little inferior. Thus the battle was very fair, two lines of men and horses a mile and a half long, and the fields smooth and open enough for a jousting. There never was better place for an honorable battle.

"After we had sat in our saddles a long time, thinking of our sins and admiring in a fearsome way the splendor of the great press of the foe opposite, a party of our sergeants suddenly charged out on our right against the Flemings. Their attack was too weak, and the Flemings drove them back and charged in return, their leaders crying, 'Think on your ladies!' as if in a courteous mÊlÉe. Whereat, nothing loath, our Burgundian and Champagnois knights dashed out on them, and long engaged in an uncertain battle, every cavalier selecting a foe and riding against him. Here one side prevailed and here another, and some warriors even dropped to the rear to recover breath and tighten harness, then spurred back to the charge. For a little while we of the center watched them thus; then nearer things engrossed us.

"I have told you that King Philip and his footmen, as well as many of our knights, held the center battle. Facing them was the dense array of Flemish and German infantry, with Emperor Otto himself, accompanied by chosen horsemen, in their rear, and we could see in the middle press the great imperial banner, a silken dragon, white and green, raised upon a pole capped with a golden eagle. It was not borne by a cavalier but flew from a tall car drawn by four horses. As we gazed at this vast hostile array, lo! the whole mass seemed surging forward against our infantry. Never was there a sight like it, spear points, hauberks, and helmets all flashing in the sun. The ground shook with the trample of thousands of feet. Countless war horns sounded, and we heard the deep 'Hoch! Hoch!' of the German infantry coming down on us like thunder.

"Then the emperor's great masses struck our footmen from the communes. Doubtless our poor knaves meant bravely, and always had plenty of courage when defending their walls, but never would France and King Philip have been saved by townsmen. Soon we saw all those base-born infantry breaking toward the rear, and for a moment our skies looked black. But, 'Open the ranks,' called Messire Conon and our other leaders, 'and let the villeins run through.' So we opened the lines in the cavalry and let these timid friends escape. Then came a last tightening of buckles and pushing down of helms. Right before us, thousands upon thousands, were surging the emperor's infantry. All together we raised the glad 'Montjoie St. Denis!'[75] the royal battle cry of France. Whereupon followed such a coursing as never in all my life I can hope again to see. With our eyes on Otto's great banner, straight into that press of Germans and Flemings we French cavaliers rode like mad, the knights in front and all the squires and good sergeants raging behind us. The horses knew their hour. They flew at speed with no touch of spur. Though I am blessed with all the joys of paradise, never, after ten thousand years of bliss, shall I forget the wondrous rapture I felt when we struck that hostile line!"

(Sire Eustace's eyes are gleaming now like sparks of fire. FranÇois and Anseau are hardly breathing as he speaks).

"Through that caitiff infantry we went as a hot knife cleaves through cheese. I had the St. Aliquis banner, and kept close behind Messire Conon with all our men hallooing and smiting behind. HÉ! what chance had those villein footmen against gentle Frenchmen, who all had known horses and lance since they ceased from mother's milk? So one and all we charged, and, like castles rising out of the plain, soon you could see here, there, and yonder the banners and squadrons of our cavaliers on their tall horses, looming above the snarling, striking footmen, who closed in all around them, and yet could not keep our knights from charging forward, always forward.

"After that, all the battle was broken up. For when Emperor Otto and his knights saw their infantry being cut down like sheep, they also charged, giving us the honest joy of crossing swords with men of nobility. So for a long time it was horse to horse and man to man. You have heard the jongleurs tell of the great deeds done. But as for us of St. Aliquis, just as we were close to hewing our way clear through the whole German line, lo! a great shouting rose on our left—"The King! The King!" And we saw the royal standard being tossed up and down, as in distress, by Sire Wado de Montigny, who bore it. Then back we charged, with many cavaliers more—just in time. For King Philip, while attacking gallantly like any other knight, had been separated from most of his friends, and a swarm of knavish Flemish pikemen had striven to drag him from his horse. His good armor turned their pikes, yet a soldier caught the hook of a halberd in the chain mail round his throat and pulled him to the ground. But the king sprang up as briskly as a young squire, and all the French knights at hand spurred to his aid. Then it was that Sire Peter Tristen leaped from his own horse and mounted his lord upon it; and Messire Conon, being among the very first to ride up and scatter or trample the Flemings, later received no small praise and thanks.

"Therefore, in that part of the field God prospered us; and then came the signal mercy when Emperor Otto fled the field. For as our knights charged and his cavaliers gave way, our men slew Otto's horse, and when he fell they almost seized the emperor. However, his Saxons, selling their lives right dearly, got him another horse. But herein was the German emperor different from our good French king. For when Philip was remounted again he raised once more his clear 'Montjoie St. Denis!' and pressed the charge; but Otto (nigh out of his wits, perhaps, and somewhat wounded) fled from the field with only three knights, leaving his great banner and all his brave vassals to their fate; and they say he never drew rein till he reached Valenciennes.

"The German knights, though deserted, still fought bravely, but the Netherlanders and Flemings soon were fleeing in droves. Besides, on the two wings of the conflict we Frenchmen were already proving victorious and from right and left our knights were charging in to help the center, cutting their way so far to the rear that when at last the German cavaliers knew that all was lost, and now began to flee, they often found themselves surrounded and were pulled from their horses and so made captive.

"Thus ended the day's work, save on the right wing of the enemy. Here had fought the great rebel Reginald of Boulogne, who knew there was naught left for him save victory or ruin. He formed some seven hundred Brabantine infantry into a circle. With their pikes and axes they beat off for long the charges of our cavaliers. From behind this living wall Boulogne, with a few brave knights, time and again charged out, performing high deeds of valor, and then, as it were, retreating into their fortress to get breath. But now that the remainder of the field was cleared, King Philip brought up his whole power of cavalry. He formed three thousand of us into three great columns of mounted men and, charging in on every side, by sheer weight we broke the Brabantine circle down. So we dragged the Count of Boulogne from his horse, fighting to the last, and the king holds him close prisoner unto this day.

"This was the last mÊlÉe of a battle the like whereof has not been in France these many years. Of course, the slaughter of the footmen was great, some thousands of both ours and theirs. The field was a sorry sight that evening and the groans of the dying rang in my ears, for all that we were so happy. But it pleased the saints that, thanks to good armor, we cavaliers got off quite safely. I have heard that 'only three French knights were slain,' although I am sure that number is too few. Of the Germans and Flemings they say one hundred and seventy knights were killed outright; but better still, we took five German counts, twenty-five barons, and some hundred and six lesser knights as prisoners. It was the ransom of that Baron of Imgerfels whom we unhorsed which presently went far to pay for your aunt's wedding and uncle's knighting.

"As for the manner in which we all returned to Paris joyous as the angels, and how the church bells rang and all the fat burghers hung the streets with tapestry, and with the clergy and scholars in the university we had seven days of illuminations, feastings, and rejoicings, which is a story repeated every day. But there will never be another Bouvines."

So spoke the seneschal. If we would comment on his narrative, we would say that Philip manifestly conquered because his very unepiscopal chief of staff, Bishop Garin, drew up his army with greater skill than Otto's leaders arranged the German-Fleming host, and also because when at last the hosts engaged in a series of innumerable duels, the French knights on the average proved superior. King Philip, after the fight was started, showed himself a valiant cavalier personally, but hardly figured as a commander. Otto contributed to shake the morale of his men by premature flight, but his great host of footmen were almost worthless, despite their pikes and halberds, against the terrific shock of the French cavalry, charging on perfectly smooth ground, where mailed horsemen could fight at their best. Missile weapons played no part. When the English yew bow shall appear, the situation may change. Till then the mounted knight, in all his ponderous armor, charging with lance at rest or with his great sword dancing in his hands, will appear as the monarch of the battlefields. Bouvines has marked the apogÉe of the feudal cavalry.