Helena Peake

About the year 1320 Bertrand du Guesclin was born in the castle of La Motte Bron, which stood in a picturesque part of Bretagne, about six leagues from the city of Rennes. His father, Reynauld du Guesclin, was a brave and loyal knight, who served God truly, and was very kind to the poor, giving them a great part of his substance, although he was not at all rich himself.

Bertrand was the eldest of ten children. Unhappily his excessive ugliness made him an object of dislike to his mother, and she was not nearly so kind to him as she was to her other children. Besides this, he was self-willed and savage, and his temper would break out into fits of violence which terrified his little brothers and sisters, and exposed him to the contempt of the whole household. This rough and repelling exterior, however, only hid for a time a generous nature and a feeling heart, and many were the tears poor Bertrand shed in solitude, for he was too proud to let them be seen, when he rebelled against the harsh treatment he received on account of his ill-behaviour.

One day the lady of La Motte was seated at table in the dining-hall of the castle with her younger sons, Guillaume and Olivier, whilst Bertrand was eating his dinner in a corner apart. It was very sad to know that the eldest son of the family behaved so rudely that his parents would not allow him to take his place at the table. But this day it happened that some chance word of ridicule reached him in his corner, and he arose in fury, and, rushing towards the table, commanded his brothers to make room for him at the upper end, where his place as the eldest child should have been by right. His brothers, surprised at the tone of his voice, obeyed, and his mother suffered him to sit in the highest place; but he had not been there long before his awkward and uncouth manners obliged her to order him to return to his corner. Bertrand arose, and in his rage clenched his hand, and hit the oaken table so hard a blow that it overturned, and emptied the contents of the dishes into the laps of the persons seated around it. This passionate act of course called down a fresh torrent of reproaches on his head. In the midst of all the disorder a lady, who was a frequent visitor at the castle, entered the hall. She asked Bertrand's mother why she was so angry. The lady of La Motte answered her by pointing to her little son, who was now sobbing bitterly in his corner. The lady went up to him, and although he was sullen at first, she soon persuaded him to tell her his sorrows. She invited him to return to the table, and Bertrand, to the astonishment of all who were present, took the dish of peacock which the steward was just bringing into the hall, and a goblet of wine, and served her with them himself, awkwardly it must be confessed, but in a spirit of gratitude for the few kind words she had spoken.

The lady who had thus befriended him was the daughter of a Jewish physician, but with her father had been converted to Christianity. She was reputed to be very clever, and was skilled in an art which was much practised in those days, namely, that of foretelling future events by observing the lines in people's hands, very much in the same manner as gipsies pretend to tell fortunes, even in our own time. After dinner she called Bertrand to her, and attentively examined his face and his hand, and presently told his mother that she ought to be proud of having such a son, instead of despising him, because she was convinced that when he grew up to be a man he would do great things for the glory of his country. From this day his mother looked more kindly upon him; she had him dressed for the first time in a manner suitable to his rank, and commanded the servants to treat him with the respect due to the eldest son of their master.

Bertrand's fiery temper, however, and his love of fighting, were a continual source of trouble and anxiety to his parents. Before he was nine years of age he would often leave the castle without their knowledge, and collect all the children he met with on his way, and then fight them one by one, or try his strength against a number of them together. When he returned home, bleeding, and with torn and soiled garments, his mother would justly reprove him for behaving so little like a gentleman.

At last his fighting propensities increased to such a pitch that the country people complained of him to his father, and the Sire de la Motte was obliged to order a forfeit to be paid by the parents of all children who were found in his company. Nevertheless Bertrand still contrived to get out of the castle secretly, and to lead the little villagers to their mimic battles. His father, as a last resource, shut him up in the dungeon of the castle, and in this dreary place he remained four months. But one evening a maid-servant, whose office it was to bring him his food twice a day, left the door open behind her, and Bertrand managed to slip out, not forgetting in his haste to turn the key upon her, in case she should betray him to his parents. Then he ran as fast as ever he could to a field, unfastened a mare from one of his father's ploughs, mounted it, laughing heartily the while at the ploughman, who was rushing after him, and galloped as far as Rennes, without saddle or bridle, to the house of his aunt, a sister of the Sire de la Motte, who was married to a knight of great honour.

His aunt had often heard of his misconduct at home, and was not at all pleased to see him arrive in such plight. She began scolding him in harsh words, when luckily for him his uncle intervened in his favour, reminding his wife that Bertrand was only a child, and had done nothing yet to forfeit his honour. "He is brave and spirited," said the good knight; "let us keep him in our house, and see if we cannot transform him into a great captain for the glory of Bretagne."

Bertrand remained with his uncle at Rennes until he was sixteen, and learned from him all the accomplishments necessary for a knight. Moreover, he learned to be gentle and courteous to those around him, and in these happier circumstances the good points of his character shone forth, and his violent temper was curbed, whilst his spirit remained free. It is related of him that he was so generous, that when he met with any poor persons, and had no money with him, he would give them some of the very clothes he wore, and if he had only a penny would share it with those who were in need. He found his greatest delight in listening to his uncle's stories of battles and sieges, and when some noble exploit was related, would clap his hands for joy, whilst his eyes shone like fire.

A very great fault, however, still remained to him, and that was his love of fighting. One Sunday it was announced in the city of Rennes that a prize would be given to the youth who should acquit himself best in single combat. Bertrand burned with impatience to enter the lists, and his aunt, fearing the temptation might prove too strong for him, carried him off with her to church, thinking he would certainly be safe there under her vigilant eye. As soon as Bertrand saw that her attention was fully absorbed in listening to the sermon, he took the opportunity of slipping out of church, and ran at full speed to the market-place. Here he was recognised by some of his opponents of former years, but he made them promise not to betray him to his aunt, and was just going to enter the lists, when a young Breton, who had thrown twelve of his competitors to the ground, advanced proudly to claim the prize, which was a hat with feather and silver band.

Bertrand defied him to the combat, and after a long struggle succeeded in overthrowing him; but during the time he had happened to fall on his opponent, and in so doing had cut his knee severely with a stone. This accident caused him so much pain that he could hardly stand, and he begged his comrades to take him to a surgeon's, where his wound could be dressed. The prize was brought to him there, but he dared not accept it, for fear his aunt, of whom he always seems to have had a wholesome dread, should hear of what he had done. She had indeed missed him, and had sought for him everywhere, and she did not spare her reproaches when she discovered the state he was in. Nevertheless she showed him greater kindness than he deserved, and nursed him until he had recovered from his wound.

The knight at last persuaded his father to recall him to the castle of La Motte Bron. Now Bertrand tasted the real joy of home for the first time, for his father was so delighted at the improvement in his character that he no longer withheld his love from him, and every member of the household had a kind word for him; while in former times, when he was so very naughty and unruly, there had only been complaints and reproofs.

The Sire Du Guesclin took care that the martial studies of his son should be completed, and gave him a little horse, on which Bertrand rode about to visit the great lords in the neighbourhood, and was present at the jousts and tournaments which were so often held at that time. Du Guesclin's poverty and youth prevented him, however, from entering the lists, and making known his courage and martial skill to the world. He grieved, too, because he was so ugly, and so humbly equipped, his famed steed being "little better than a miller's horse."

The time came at last when he was enabled to distinguish himself. A great tournament was announced at Rennes on the marriage of Jeanne de PenthiÈvre, heiress to the duchy of Bretagne, with Charles de Blois, who was nephew to the King of France. The Sire de la Motte Bron judged it to be a fit occasion for the display of his dignity, and went with the nobles of Bretagne to Rennes, followed by a great number of his vassals; whilst poor Bertrand, mounted on his insignificant horse, and easily recognised by the roundness and largeness of his head, his short nose, his strongly-marked eyebrows, and his square-set figure, was an object of ridicule to the peasants as they flocked along the road to Rennes. The tournament used to be held in an open space inside the city, and the ladies, richly attired, looked on from the windows and balconies around.

Bertrand's eyes flashed when he reached the arena where the knights were already engaged, and heard the sound of the trumpets and the clashing of the weapons. "I shall never please the ladies," he said, as he had said many a time before, "but I will make my name to be feared by the enemies of my country."

Seeing one of his relations retire from the combat, he followed him to his house, and, throwing himself on his knees before him, implored him to lend him some armour and a horse. His cousin good-naturedly lent him a fresh horse, and armed him himself, and Bertrand rushed back to the tournament, and, having entered the lists without naming himself, challenged a knight, and quickly overthrew him. Another knight now came forward to avenge the vanquished one, and Bertrand was just going to attack him, when he saw his father's arms upon his shield, and bowing low, withdrew, to the astonishment of the spectators. After this he challenged no fewer than fifteen knights without coming to grief himself. All the people present were now very anxious to know his name, and one of the ladies who sat in the great balcony entreated a Norman knight to descend into the arena, and, if possible, remove the visor from the victor's face. The knight went down, and had just succeeded in removing the helmet from Bertrand's head, when a strong arm suddenly lifted him off his horse and laid him in the dust. Then Reynauld du Guesclin recognised his son, and hastened to embrace him in his pride and joy, and Bertrand was proclaimed victor over all to the sound of the trumpets, and received the prize, which was a beautiful silver swan, life size. The prize, however, he did not keep for himself, but gave it to his cousin, whose kindness had enabled him to win so great renown.

When Bertrand was twenty years of age he was no longer contented with displaying his prowess in tournaments, but began to fight in good earnest, taking the part of Charles de Blois in a quarrel that lasted for a very long time between that prince and his rival, Jean de Montfort.

Jean de Bretagne, known by the name of the Good Duke, had died without leaving any childhood, and was succeeded by his brother, Guy, Count of PenthiÈvre, whose daughter's marriage with Charles de Blois had occasioned the festivity at Rennes. Charles thus claimed the duchy in right of his wife; but Guy was no sooner dead than his half-brother, Jean de Montfort, came forward, and maintained that his title to Bretagne was a better one than that of his niece.

This was not true, because the right of female succession had been fully established in the duchy, and the King of France and many of the Breton nobles sided with Charles, while the King of England sent assistance to De Montfort.

The wives of both princes were women of extraordinary spirit. Jeanne, Countess de Montfort, defended her husband's rights whilst he lived, and after his death those of his son, who was likewise named Jean; and once during the war, when she was shut up in the town of Hennebon, she held out, like a brave and skilful general, against all the attacks of the enemy until Sir Walter Manny arrived with succour from King Edward the Third of England. Jeanne de PenthiÈvre was a woman of equal courage, but her pride and ambition caused her husband to risk the battle which cost him his life, and proved, as will be seen hereafter, the ruin of her own cause.

Du Guesclin chose the side of Charles de Blois because he believed it to be the right one. "Never," said he, "while I live, will I maintain an unrighteous cause." He was soon at the head of sixty men, in readiness to serve, and sold his mother's jewels that he might be able to buy horses, harness, and arms. His chroniclers tell us, however, how he very soon captured from an English knight, whom he met in a forest, a treasure consisting of jewels, which he gave to his mother in compensation for those she had lost. Although gunpowder was known in those days, it was very little used; the chief weapons were swords, lances, battle-axes, cross-bows, and clubs; and every warrior defended himself with the shield. Bertrand's name came to be feared by his enemies, as he had predicted in the days gone by: his first attempts in warfare were chiefly against the English, who held many of the fortresses in Bretagne for Jean de Montfort. A story is told of the manner in which he gained possession of one of these, the Castle of Fougeray, which was a very important place.

Bertrand knew all the ins and outs of the castle, because in the chances of war he had once been a prisoner for a short time within its walls, and he disguised himself, and about twenty of his companions in arms, as wood-cutters, in white gowns reaching down to the knee, and with bundles of faggots on their shoulders, as he had often seen the poor peasants bringing wood to the castle. He divided his men, to make it appear that they were coming from different parts of the country to sell their wood, and waited for the time when the governor should have gone out of his stronghold with a part of the garrison. When all was ready they passed the night securely in the forest, and came out of it in the grey dawn of the morning with their bundles on their shoulders.

The watchman of Fougeray saw them dimly in the distance, and rang the bell, to give the alarm, but all fear vanished when it was seen that only wood-cutters were coming towards the castle. Bertrand advanced to the drawbridge, and asked the porter if he did not want wood. The porter said that he did, and not suspecting any harm, let down the drawbridge at once. Du Guesclin laid down his heavy load of wood so as to prevent the bridge from being drawn up, and rushed on to the castle, shouting "Guesclin," the war cry which afterwards became so terrible to his enemies. His comrades followed quickly at his summons; the unhappy porter fell wounded in the struggle, and as there were a hundred men in the place and Bertrand had only sixty when all had come to his aid, the conflict was very sharp; women and children even throwing showers of stones on the heads of the Bretons. Du Guesclin himself was severely wounded, and was found defending himself to the last, without his hatchet, when a party of cavalry belonging to Charles de Blois came up in time to secure possession of the castle. The whole affair may have been considered an ingenious trick, but I think it would have been more noble for Bertrand to have ridden up openly to his enemies, clad in his armour, and with his sword in his hand, than to have deceived them by the woodcutter's guise.

The war went on, and at last the King of England sent Henry, the good Duke of Lancaster, to Bretagne at the head of a large force, with orders to lay siege to Rennes, the city where Bertrand had passed the happiest days of his boyhood, and which had twice been the scene of his triumphs. Besides all the great English nobles who had accompanied the duke, the army was increased by many Breton gentlemen who had enlisted themselves on the side of Jean de Montfort, and Lancaster made a solemn vow not to depart from Rennes until he had planted his standard upon its walls.

Bertrand concealed himself in a forest near the city, and constantly harassed his enemies by rushing suddenly upon them, by day and by night, and always to the cry of "Guesclin," until at last the Duke of Lancaster swore that if ever the brave Breton captain fell into his hands, he would never let him free, however large a ransom might be offered for him.

Lancaster made several attempts upon Rennes, but with little success. One day an English officer who had been captured by Du Guesclin, told him that his countrymen intended to undermine the city and open a breach. Upon this news Bertrand contrived one very dark night to glide with his Bretons into the midst of the English camp, where all was silent, and set fire to some of the tents. The enemy, awakened by the usual cry of "Guesclin," thought that Charles de Blois had fallen upon them with his army, and were very angry as they put out their fires to find it was only Bertrand with his handful of men.

The governor of Rennes now gave orders that in all the houses near the ramparts little copper basins should be hung with one or two balls of brass in each, so that by the jingling of the metal, which the movement of the miners would cause, it might be known in what direction they were at work. By this means the garrison were enabled to work against them until the mine was pierced, and the besiegers found a body of troops ready to beat them back.

The Duke of Lancaster now thought of another plan for subduing the people of Rennes. Knowing that they were almost without provisions, he caused two thousand pigs to be assembled in a field near the walls of the city, hoping that the hungry inhabitants would come out for the purpose of capturing them. The governor, however, was not to be outwitted, and had a sow attached by a rope to the gate of Rennes, with its head downwards. The sow struggled so hard to free itself and grunted and squeaked so loud that the other pigs were naturally attracted to the spot. When the besieged saw that the pigs were coming in that direction they lowered the drawbridge, and cut the rope. The sow, thus released, ran joyfully back into the city, followed by all the other pigs, and it was certain that the famished people of Rennes had a good meal that day and for many days after.

Du Guesclin performed numerous acts of daring during the siege, and one day, when the Bretons had eaten up the two thousand pigs and were very near dying of hunger again, he intercepted and captured a hundred waggons, loaded with wine, flour, and salt meat, which were on their way to the English camp; but when he found that the waggoners were supplying these provisions to the enemy at their own cost, he paid them liberally for all that he had seized.

The Duke of Lancaster now prepared a huge machine which was often used in those times of warfare. This was a wooden tower on wheels, as high as the walls of the city, which contained a number of men inside, who shot surely from it with their arrows. The tower would have caused great havoc, had not Bertrand one night crawled out with his Bretons, and completely destroyed it by fire.

Winter was now coming on: the lengthened siege had lost the lives of many brave men, and Henry of Lancaster at last sent a herald to Du Guesclin to tell him that he desired to speak with him. The herald brought a written passport which, alas! Bertrand was obliged to have read to him by one of his comrades. He had always been so heedless and disobedient in the old days at La Motte, that no one had been able to teach him to read or write, and he had never succeeded in learning in after years, although some authors assert that he could really sign his name.

Bertrand dismissed the herald with a handsome present of clothes and money, and then repaired to the camp of the brave English duke. When there he was asked by Lancaster, whom he owned for his master. "Charles de Blois," he replied promptly, "to whom Bretagne belongs in right of his wife."

The Duke was much pleased with his boldness and resolution, and offered him a high rank in his army if he would consent to enter his service; but Bertrand replied that nothing should ever shake him in his fidelity to Charles de Blois.

Lancaster now received orders from his father to raise the siege: yet he could not depart, in remembrance of the oath he had taken, and Du Guesclin proposed that he should enter the city with ten of his knights, and plant his standard on its walls. When this was done, Du Guesclin politely asked him where the war was to be carried on in future. "Bertrand, my fair friend," replied the duke, "you shall soon know." He had scarcely gone past the barrier when he saw his standard thrown down into the moat; nevertheless he had kept his oath, and having raised the siege, he decamped with all his host, and went to pass the winter at Auray.

Du Guesclin was quick to resent an affront offered to any member of his family. The Duke of Lancaster with the brave Sir John Chandos was before Dinan, which town Bertrand, his brother Olivier, and the governor who had defended Rennes, had hastened to enter before the enemy could invest it. One day when all was quiet, Olivier Du Guesclin had gone out of the town unarmed for the purpose of amusing himself in the open country, when he met with an English knight, who asked him his name, and behaved in a very haughty manner towards him, and made him walk on first, vowing that he should not escape until he had given him a thousand good florins. A Breton knight, however, who had seen Olivier made prisoner, hastened to tell Du Guesclin what had happened. Bertrand instantly mounted his horse and rode off to the English camp, where he found the Duke of Lancaster in his tent playing at chess with Sir John Chandos, whilst several of the chief nobles were standing around looking on. They were all glad to see Bertrand because they had a great respect for his valour, and it is true that he had many qualities which endeared him to his fellow-men, and gained for him friendships which lasted as long as life.

Du Guesclin would not drink the wine they poured out for him until justice had been done to his brother. Henry of Lancaster was an upright man, and promised to settle the matter fairly. He summoned the offending knight to his presence, and ordered him to release Olivier at once. But the knight, who was called Thomas of Canterbury, would not allow that the complaint made against him by Bertrand was just, and threw down his iron glove in defiance. It was soon known in Dinan that a terrible combat would take place between the two knights, and the people feared that Du Guesclin would fall, because the Englishman was possessed of such extraordinary strength and skill. But a very beautiful young lady of noble family in Dinan, named Tiphaine de Raguenel, whom Bertrand married soon after the siege was raised, predicted that he would triumph over his foe. Tiphaine was called an astrologer, because she professed to foretell by observing the stars in the heavens, whether people were to be prosperous in their lives or unfortunate; happy or miserable. This was very foolish, and we know better in our own times than to put faith in such a science; and even in Dinan, when by chance Tiphaine's predictions came true, the people looked upon her with distrust and called her a witch. The Duke of Lancaster with all his nobles came into the town to witness the combat, which ended to the great joy of the inhabitants of Dinan in the triumph of Bertrand, and the offending knight was ordered by Lancaster to retire from his service.

The siege of Dinan was raised by our King Edward, who had King John of France at this time a prisoner in the palace of the Savoy. Du Guesclin went on fighting for Charles de Blois, until at last the younger Jean de Montfort got weary of the war, and proposed to his rival that the Duchy of Bretagne should be halved between them; and that Rennes should be the capital of Charles's dominions, and Nantes the capital of his own. Charles de Blois was a man who loved peace; he agreed solemnly to divide the duchy as Jean had proposed, and would have kept faith with him, had not his wife broken out into a violent passion as soon as she heard what he had done, and overruled him by saying that she would never consent to so shameful a settlement, and that she had married him to defend the whole of her duchy, and not the half of it. The war must have broken out again at once if the good offices of Lancaster had not effected a truce for a time.

When King John came back to France he invited Du Guesclin to enter his service, and gave him the command of a hundred lances. Each lance, or man-at-arms, was attended by three archers, a man armed with a cutlass, and a page, so that a company of a hundred lances really included six hundred men. Du Guesclin had the permission to form his troop of the gentlemen of Bretagne, of whom many were his relations and friends; and with these he set out hopefully to take part in a war which King John was carrying on in Normandy against the wicked King of Navarre.

Bertrand did the king good service in Normandy, and captured the towns of Mantes and Meulan. At the latter place he lost all patience with the tardiness of the besiegers, and seizing a ladder, began to mount it with his sword in his hand, and his shield on his breast. He was just mounting the last steps and boasting to the Baron of Mereuil who was on the other side of the wall, that he would soon make him feel the strength of his arm, when the baron threw some heavy stones on the ladder, which dashed it to pieces, and Bertrand fell with his head downwards into the ditch around the city wall. The ditch was full of water, and Bertrand was taken out by his comrades half dead, but he scarcely waited for his injuries to be healed, before he began to fight with greater vigour than before, and a little while later gained the battle of Cocherel over the Captal de Buche, who was fighting for the King of Navarre, and took the Captal prisoner.

King John was now dead, and Charles the Wise was on the throne of France. The victory at Cocherel had served to raise the spirits of the French, who had been much cast down by their defeats during the two last sieges, and the fame of Du Guesclin was spoken all over the country.

But the war unhappily broke out in Bretagne once more. Jean de Montfort, angry with his rival for his breach of faith, came with his army to invest the town of Auray. The people there were in great need and misery, and lighted fires every night on the summits of their towers in token of their distress. Charles de Blois set off at once to assist them in their danger, but his wife at parting, charged him on no account whatever to agree to any division of the duchy. Du Guesclin and many brave nobles and knights hastened to join his army; and when they arrived in sight of Auray, De Montfort sent a herald to them to propose peace on the terms that had already been made, or to demand an immediate battle.

Charles de Blois, weakly dreading the anger of his wife if he gave way, sent the herald back without an answer, although in his heart he was longing more than ever to be at peace.

In the disastrous battle of Auray which began soon after, and lasted for seven hours, Charles de Blois lost his life, the celebrated Oliver Du Clisson an eye, and Du Guesclin his liberty. It was late in the day, and Bertrand was left almost alone upon the battle field with the dead lying around him; he had been thrown from his horse, and surrounded by his enemies, but he had risen from the ground and defended himself single-handed to the last. Now the blood was flowing from his wounds; his sword was broken; the handle had been wrenched off his battle-axe, and Sir John Chandos found him armed only with an iron hammer. It was useless for him to resist longer, and when he had given up the broken piece of his sword into the hands of the English knight, the battle was at an end.

Charles de Blois had fought that day like one in despair. With his last breath he had said that he had long waged war against his conscience. And thus the feud was ended which had lasted for nearly twenty years; Jean de Montfort could have the whole duchy of Bretagne for himself, and the unhappy widow of his rival had the sorrow of remembering that it was her own pride and unbending spirit which had cost her the life of her husband. The people of Bretagne were so tired of war that when, a little while after, the treaty, which Jean de Montfort was making with Jeanne, could not be settled, they assembled in a vast concourse and throwing themselves on the ground, implored the Count to give them peace.

The King of France did not suffer Bertrand to remain a captive long. The country was at that time infested by bands of lawless men of various nations, who called themselves "Free Companies," and used to go about laying waste the orchards and fields, sacking and burning the castles of the nobility; and making war just as they pleased. The greater number of these men were disbanded soldiers, whose services were no longer needed now that the war was at an end.

Their power became very formidable when such men as Sir Hugh de Caverlay, the Green Knight, Sir Matthew Gournay, and many others who were renowned for their valour, joined them, and elected themselves their leaders.

The thought occurred to King Charles that Du Guesclin was the one man capable of ridding his country of so terrible a scourge, and he hastened to pay the hundred thousand francs which his enemies had required for his ransom, and told him that if he would consent to drive the Free Companies out of France, he might choose his own method of carrying out his purpose.

Du Guesclin went to the camp where the Free Lances were assembled, and, as many of the leaders had already served under his banner, he found little difficulty in persuading them to go with him into Spain on a crusade against the Saracens, who still retained possession of a part of that country. But a war had already broken out between Pedro the Second of Spain and his half brother, Henry of Trastamare. Pedro had made himself hateful to his subjects by repeated acts of tyranny, and worst of all had suffered his wife, Blanche de Bourbon, to be cruelly murdered. This princess was very amiable and lovely; she was sister to the Queen of France, and granddaughter to the good Saint Louis, and Charles, indignant and sorrowful at her unhappy fate, thought the services of Du Guesclin would be better employed in driving Pedro from the throne than in making war on the Saracens.

Bertrand was therefore ordered to hasten to the assistance of Henry of Trastamare, and one day he collected all the Free Companies at a place called Chalons sur Saone, and marched from thence southwards, to the great delight of the French nation, taking Avignon on his way, where the Pope then resided, instead of at Rome.

The companies went to Avignon to ask for absolution, because they had been excommunicated, that is to say, cut off from all fellowship with the church, on account of their lawless deeds. The Pope readily granted them absolution, but he was not nearly so ready to give them a large sum of money—which they asked for in addition to the 200,000 gold florins which they had already received from Du Guesclin—and it was only after a long delay, that he could be persuaded to give them any money at all.

The troops Du Guesclin led himself were called "The White Company," because they all wore a white cross on their shoulder, as a sign that they meant to abolish the religion of the Jews, which Pedro was supposed to favour. Pedro was very much alarmed at the approach of so vast an army; he happened to be engaged at the time in laying waste with fire and sword the lands belonging to his brother, whilst Henry himself was hiding in a castle with his wife and children, and for a long while could not be made to believe that the French hero was really coming to his aid.

Du Guesclin soon enabled him, however, to gain possession of several cities, and at a frontier town, called Maguelon Home, he took the title of King. And when the people of Burgos (which was the Christian capital of Spain at that time) heard of the approach of the White Company, they brought the keys of the city, and laid them at the feet of Henry, and joyfully acknowledged that he was King over Castille. Henry made a triumphant entry into Burgos, with Bertrand, his deliverer, clad in complete armour by his side; they went to the palace, where a great banquet was served before them, with the richest viands, while the whole city was one scene of rejoicing and merriment, and wine flowed in the streets like water; the people were so glad to be freed from the tyranny of Pedro the Second.

Bertrand having thus placed Henry of Trastamare on the throne, urged him to send for his wife Jeanne, that they might both be crowned the same day. And when the Queen was seen approaching the capital, Bertrand went out to meet her, accompanied by the bravest of his knights. As soon as the Queen perceived that it was Du Guesclin who was advancing towards her, she alighted from her mule that she might render him the greater honour, and turning to his whole company, she exclaimed, "Friends, and gentlemen, it may truly be said that we hold the crown of Castille through you alone." Henry and Jeanne were crowned at Burgos on Easter-day of the year 1366, and the King, in gratitude for the services of Du Guesclin, gave him the Duchy of Molina, and made him constable of Castille.

Pedro meanwhile was in great terror at the approach of his brother, and kept himself concealed with his treasures in a forest a hundred leagues long. One of his treasures was a table of pure gold, inlaid with jewels, and engraven with the portraits of Charlemagne's twelve peerless knights. Amongst the gems was a carbuncle, which is said to have had the peculiar property of shining by night as brightly as the sun shines by day; and one very dark night, when Pedro was outside the walls of a city, and beset with dangers on every side, he was obliged to have his table fetched out from among his treasures, that he might discover by its light the means of escape. The stone may have possessed a singular brilliancy, but for the fact of its shining as brightly as the sunlight, I cannot vouch. It was said to have another strange property, that of changing colour and turning black directly poison approached it.

The forest was near the town of Cardonna, where Pedro had taken refuge, immediately after the great city of Toledo had surrendered to his brother. Henry supposed him to be still in the town, and went in pursuit of him with Du Guesclin, Hugh de Caverlay, Olivier de Mauny, and many other valiant men. Their way between Toledo and Cardonna lay through the long forest, which was full of wild beasts and snakes, and had neither villages nor houses of any kind in its depths. They were in this wild tract seven days, and lost many of their men there; some of them being devoured by the wild beasts, and others dying from the bites of the snakes. When they got to Cardonna they found, of course, that Pedro had fled, but they took possession of the town.

Now that Henry had really been placed on the throne, Bertrand thought he might carry out his original plan, and proceed to Granada, which was the stronghold and capital of the Moors in Spain. The Queen, however, with many tears implored him not to forsake her husband; she dreaded so much the anger and cruelty of Pedro, when he should come out of his hiding-place. And Pedro soon made himself dreaded once more, for he had found his way to Guienne and entreated the Black Prince, who held his court in that province, to protect him, and assist him with troops; and had offered him his golden table, and part of his treasures as an equivalent for his aid; promising him, besides, a large sum of money to defray the cost of an army. The Black Prince, either out of compassion for the fallen King, or because he did not like to see his rival in league with France, agreed to assist him; and in the spring of the year 1367 crossed the province of Navarre with Pedro, and a large army of Gascons, Normans, and English, and entered Castille.

The fortunes of Henry already began to decline: several of the Companies withdrew from his service, and enlisted themselves in preference under the banner of the Black Prince. Du Guesclin urged the King not to risk a decisive battle too soon, but he would not listen to him, and the two armies met at Najara, on the right bank of the river Ebro. The watchword of the Black Prince's army was "Guienne and St. George!" and that of King Henry's, "Castille and St. James!"

The battle proved disastrous for the King of Castille, his cavalry were forced to give way, and the rout becoming general he escaped from the field with very few of his followers. When Bertrand saw the King's discomfiture, he stationed himself against a wall, and with a battle-axe defended himself so vigorously that several Englishmen were overthrown by him; and at last his enemies dared not approach him, but only hurled at him their daggers and swords. The Black Prince, hearing of this, desired to see him, and went with his standard unfurled to the place where he stood. Bertrand recognised the Prince, and kneeling on one knee before him said, "To you, Sire, the Prince of Wales, I surrender myself and to no other; for I will never be the captive of Pedro, e'en though I die in my defence!"

The Prince received the submission of Du Guesclin graciously, and confided him to the keeping of the Captal de Buche, who in remembrance of his own capture by Bertrand in the battle of Cocherel, told him kindly that he might live with him at large, if he would give him his word not to escape. Du Guesclin, much pleased with the confidence reposed in him, swore, like a true knight, that he would rather die than break his word.

For six months he remained with the English army, and during that time had no cause to complain of his treatment. But as soon as he arrived at Bordeaux, where the Black Prince held his splendid Court, he was shut up in the prison of HÂ. One morning whilst he was there, three pilgrims, who had arrived in Bordeaux the evening before, had gone to hear mass in the Church of Notre Dame. One of these pilgrims was Henry of Trastamare, who had disguised himself thus in the hope of journeying safely to the Duke of Anjou, to entreat him to support his cause.

Several knights happened to be in the church, who had fought with Du Guesclin in the battle of Najara; they began talking of their common misfortunes, and Henry, taking one of them apart, asked news of Bertrand, and learned with sorrow that the Black Prince had made a vow never to ransom him or set him free. Henry went home with the knight to whom he had spoken, and told him who he was, and persuaded him to procure him the means of seeing Du Guesclin. So the knight concealed the King in his house, and went to the prison of HÂ, and told the gaoler that he was going to Bretagne to seek for money to pay his ransom, and that he greatly desired to see Du Guesclin before he started.

The gaoler did not admit him at once, but only hinted that such things were not done without a bribe. The knight assured him that Du Guesclin was most liberal, and would amply reward him if he would procure the interview. The gaoler owned that he was so proud of his prisoner, that he hoped such a man might never go out of his hands, and after a little more delay he conducted the knight to Bertrand, who thought that his visitor had come to borrow money, and was much surprised to hear that Henry of Trastamare was in Bordeaux in the disguise of a pilgrim of St. James. He called the gaoler, and told him that there was a poor pilgrim in the city, a native of Bretagne, and one of his own vassals, whom he wished to assist with money to enable him to complete his journey; and he begged him to take his seal and go to a certain Italian jew in the city, and ask him for the sum of 400 florins. The gaoler fetched the money; Du Guesclin gave him a hundred florins for himself, and by noon the King was admitted into the prison. A more sumptuous dinner than was usually seen within its walls was served in his honour, and they lingered over it, talking of their misfortunes and of the King's project for seeking aid from the Duke of Anjou; Du Guesclin would not, however, on any account suffer him to ask the duke to pay his ransom. Whilst they were at dinner the gaoler began to feel the pricks of his conscience, and he took his wife apart, and told her that he suspected some treason was going on between the pilgrim and Du Guesclin against his master the Black Prince, and that he must acquaint him with the whole affair. The gaoler's wife whispered her husband's intentions to Bertrand, and the brave knight, with a dexterity similar to that he had employed, when as a boy he freed himself from the dungeon of La Motte, did not suffer his keeper to pass through the prison wicket, but dealt him so heavy a blow with a stick that the poor man fell on his knees: then taking the keys from his pocket, he opened the door to Henry, who quickly disappeared with his two companions and the knight who had accompanied him thus far. Bertrand closed the door upon them, and keeping the keys, came back to the gaoler and, after giving him a good beating, shut him up in a room by himself, as a warning that the transaction was not to be breathed beyond the prison walls.

The Duke of Anjou assisted Henry, and enabled him to enter Burgos a second time, whilst Pedro was obliged to fly from the throne he had re-ascended after the battle of Najara. Many of the knights who had been taken prisoners in that contest were now ransomed, but Du Guesclin, "the scourge of the English," as he was called, was deemed too formidable an enemy to be set at large; and he might have remained in prison until his dying day, had not some of the English nobles, who held his qualities in high esteem, remonstrated with their prince in his favour, and taunted him by saying that he only retained his prisoner through fear.

The Black Prince at last resolved to have an interview with his captive, and Du Guesclin, overjoyed at the prospect of obtaining his release, rose hastily at the prince's summons, and appeared before him in the soiled and coarse grey robe he wore in his prison, but which could not detract from the dignity of his bearing. He told the prince that he was indeed weary of his long confinement; "I have listened to the rats and mice long enough," he said, "and I would fain go where I can hear the birds sing once more."

The prince told him that he would set him free that very day without a ransom, if he would swear never again to bear arms against him for France; or against Pedro for Henry. These conditions Bertrand of course could not accept, and before the interview was ended he had spoken with so much honesty and candour, that the Black Prince could not but own the righteousness of his cause, and requested him to name his own ransom. Bertrand fixed it at 100,000 gold florins, and when the prince asked him why he named so large a sum, he declared his ransom should not be less than 70,000 florins, adding that although he was a poor knight, the Kings of France and Castille would assuredly pay that sum for him; and that if they did not that the Breton women would spin till they had gained the money for him.

He was now set at liberty on condition of obtaining his ransom. The people of Bordeaux flocked to see him when he came out of his prison, and the Princess of Wales, Joanna the Fair, journeyed expressly from AngoulÊme to Bordeaux that she might have the honour of entertaining him at a banquet, and presented him besides with 10,000 francs towards his ransom. Sir John Chandos and Hugh de Caverlay helped also to raise the sum required. Chandos was always his friend, although he fought on the opposite side; and it may be that these brave men esteemed one another the more for clinging to what each one believed to be the right.

Du Guesclin had hardly gone a league on his way homewards when he met a poor knight who was returning to his prison in Bordeaux on foot, in a very forlorn condition, because he was unable to pay his ransom. Bertrand not only gave him the money to pay it, but also enough to set him up in arms.

The knight told him that the Duke of Anjou was then besieging the town of Tarascon. Bertrand was bound in honour not to fight; but he could not resist going to Tarascon, to aid the duke with his advice, and made the besieged tremble at the very sound of his name. And there he was in the midst of all the danger, and the clashing of weapons, mounted on his horse, but with a peeled rod in his hand, instead of a sword, for his oath's sake!

When he reached his own estate in Bretagne, he begged his wife to give him her jewels, and all the valuable things she possessed; but she told him that a number of poor knights and squires, all taken at Najara, had come to her in great distress, and that she had given them all she could find in the castle. Bertrand was very glad that his wife had been so kind to the poor men, and had not sent them away empty handed. The sum for his ransom was raised amongst his relations and friends, and he had set out for Bordeaux, when he met ten poor knights, whose ransoms he could not resist paying; preferring to remain a captive himself rather than to know that so many others were languishing in prison, away from their homes, and all whom they loved.

When the Black Prince heard of Bertrand's generosity, he did not shut him up in a dungeon again, but let him go about the city as he pleased on his word of honour that he would not escape. A day came when mules were seen approaching Bordeaux loaded with 70,000 good gold florins which the kings of France and Castille and the Duke of Anjou had sent to purchase his liberty.

Du Guesclin, a free man once more, devoted himself entirely to the cause of Henry, and defeated Pedro in a great battle near Toledo, notwithstanding the help afforded the Spanish King by the Moors. The fortunes of Pedro now rapidly declined, the Black Prince not caring to aid him again, because he had not kept the promises he made before the battle of Najara.

After a battle fought near Montiel,[11] in the south of Spain, Pedro took refuge in the Castle of Montiel, in which there was only one way of going in or coming out, and before this entrance Le BÈgue de Vilaines, who was fighting for Henry, stationed himself with his pennon. In this extremity it was arranged that Pedro should make his escape from the castle at midnight with twelve of his companions. It was a dark misty night, and when Pedro crept out of the castle, Le BÈgue, who stood waiting for him with three hundred men, could not see him, but fancied he heard the sound of footsteps.

"Who art thou?" he cried, "Speak, or thou art a dead man." The first one addressed escaped in the darkness. The next who came, Le BÈgue believed to be the king, and asked him who he was with the dagger held close to his breast. Then Pedro, seeing he had no chance of escape, cried "BÈgue, BÈgue, I am the King, Don Pedro, of Castille;" and surrendering himself to him he implored him to take him to some place where he should be beyond the reach of his half-brother.

Le BÈgue took him to his own quarters, but he had not been there long before Henry of Trastamare and some of his followers entered the chamber where he was concealed; and in the furious struggle which ensued Pedro was slain by the hands of his brother. Thus died this unhappy king, whose many evil deeds gained for him the surname of "The Cruel;" but Henry was very wicked and cruel also to take his brother's life, and could not have been happy when he remembered Montiel, although he had now undisputed possession of the throne.

Du Guesclin was now at liberty to return to his own country. The King of Castille parted from him with great regret, and gave him some handsome presents in token of gratitude for the services he had rendered him. Du Guesclin on his return, was constantly employed in the war which broke out again between England and France, and regained many of the places which the English had taken from the French. The time came when King Charles thought that the wisest measure he could pursue would be to make Bertrand, Constable of France, which was the highest office in all the realm. Bertrand was unwilling to accept so great an honour, saying that there were many men more worthy of it than himself. Charles declared, however, that there was neither prince nor noble in the land who would not cheerfully obey the brave knight, and Du Guesclin was made Constable. From that time he was surrounded by all the dignity and splendour of the court, and always sat at the table with the king.

But certain it is when men have reached their highest estate, they are very often near a fall. Bertrand was again employed in Bretagne, when meeting with some reverses, he incurred the king's displeasure. Charles, having listened to some evil reports which were spread against him, did not scruple to express his discontent, and Bertrand took the matter so much to heart that he resigned his Constable's sword, and was only induced to resume his office when the king found out that the reports were untrue, and tried to atone to him for the mistake he had made. In the year 1380, Bertrand was sent to drive the English out of the south of France. He was very glad to go thither, because it always grieved him to make war on the people of his own province of Bretagne. After reducing some places of little importance, he went to help his friend Sancerre in the siege of the Castle of Randan, which was possessed by the English, and some Gascons, who were unfriendly to France. The Constable pressed the siege with vigour and vowed that he would never depart from the spot till the castle was taken. And he never did depart from thence alive, for he was seized with a violent fever, which in a short time proved fatal. The knowledge of his danger made the besiegers more anxious than ever to gain the fortress, and the garrison were obliged at last to agree to surrender on a certain day.

The Sire de Roos, the governor of the castle, having been informed of the dangerous condition of Du Guesclin, desired to render up the keys into his own hands; and when the appointed day had arrived, he came out of the gates, followed by all the garrison. It was summer time, and the rays of the setting sun shone on their unfurled banners, as they went to the tent, where the dying Constable lay. His knights were standing sorrowfully around him; they could not bear to think that he would never rise from his bed again, that his voice would never more cheer them on to victory. The English themselves shed tears at the mournful spectacle.

When Du Guesclin had prayed that his sins might be forgiven him, he entreated the nobles and knights to be faithful to their king, and not make war, which would cause the blood of peasants, and defenceless old men, and women and children to be shed; remembering with sorrow how heedlessly he had himself waged war in the days of his youth. Then dismissing them all except his friend Du Clisson, he asked for his constable's sword, and prayed him to deliver it into the hands of the king, and when they had bidden each other a last farewell, Du Clisson stood by him in tears and in silence until his spirit passed away.

So died Du Guesclin, the Hero of Chivalry, a man with many failings, but brave and generous beyond comparison, and ever faithful to his friends. Although the violence of his temper broke out at intervals all his life long, he could be kind and gentle. Queens and princesses esteemed him for his respectful courtesy, and we like to read, how, when the Black Prince summoned him to his presence, the stern warrior was found playing merrily with his gaoler's children, inside the dreary walls of his prison.

Some authors assert that the governor of the Castle of Randan only laid the keys on the coffin of Du Guesclin; but the most probable account is that he really gave them into his hands before he died.

Charles the Wise grieved sincerely for the loss the country had sustained, and ordered the remains of the Constable to be interred in the Church of Saint Denis with almost regal pomp.

Jeanne de Laval, the second wife of Du Guesclin, founded several religious houses, and instituted services in memory of her illustrious husband.

[11] The green knight fell in this battle.