  The recruiting of troops for the Duke of Brittany now made rapid progress. Famous knights offered themselves and their followers for his service. Many of the leaders in the Crusade, who had been forced to discharge their followers, now assembled them anew under HÖel’s standard and accepted his earnest money, and Alan selected sixteen knights, the flower of the young nobles, who devoted themselves to the exclusive personal service of the Duke and received a princely sum for their outfit. The court ladies also took an active part in the war preparations and assembled daily in the Queen’s apartments to work upon fine embroideries. Arthur and his knights were provided with gorgeous banners and sashes, and were often consulted about their decoration. “No, Marie,” said Arthur, noticing her work, “place no king’s crown above my escutcheon; as a true Plantagenet, the broom flower is my only emblem.” “But you, not John, are the King,” replied Marie. “I will decide that on the field,” said Arthur. All his petty troubles vanished, Philip was now ready for the successful prosecution of his plans. He decided that Arthur should go with a part of the force to Anjou and establish himself there, and he himself would follow later with the main army and completely shatter John’s power. But before he made any move, Philip resolved to attach Arthur yet more closely to him by marrying him to the Princess Marie. The bridal pair, as well as the Duchess, were greatly surprised by this decision, and only the nearest intimates were bidden secretly to the nuptial ceremony. At midnight, in the glare of torches, Arthur stood with his bride before the altar, where he had lately been admitted to knighthood. Alan thought of that night, and glanced at the window through which the red light had streamed upon them. But no evil omen disturbed the blessing which the priest invoked upon the union. The marriage was celebrated next day at court, and at the same time the coming departure of the Duke was announced. At last the moment was at hand when Arthur must leave all and take the field to fight for the crown of his ancestors. Duchess Constance strove hard to remain calm as she bade Arthur farewell, but her heart sank within her as she thought of the dangers he must encounter. Gladly would she have restrained him from the undertaking into which he had impetuously thrown himself. Holding him in sorrowful embrace, she said with quivering voice: “Farewell, my son! My only one! May the saints preserve you.” The Princess Marie also embraced him, sobbing: “Do not go, my husband! I shall never see you again.” “Keep good courage, Marie. God is merciful.” “But men are cruel. Oh, stay with me!” “Let me fight for my honor and my crown. You shall see me return victorious.” Arthur tore himself away and left them. A band of his knights awaited him in the castle yard and Alan was holding his steed’s bridle. Arthur swung himself into the saddle and, with a glance and a wave of his hand toward the balcony where Constance and Marie were standing, rode to the head of his followers. With an exultant shout, “France for Plantagenet!” and with banners waving and arms glistening, the Duke of Brittany led the way to fight afar for his crown. |
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