The eldest replied that he would like always to live at the old Castle of Bayard, amongst his own people; so his father said to him, "Very well, George, since you are so fond of home, you shall stay here and fight the bears." Pierre, the second son, then thirteen years old, said that he desired to follow the profession of arms, as his father had done; and that he trusted through the grace of God to acquit himself with honour therein. The third son said he would like to have an abbey, like his uncle, the Monseigneur of Esnay, and the youngest wished to be a bishop, like his uncle of Grenoble.

The Sire du Bayard rejoiced very much at the choice little Pierre had made, but as he could not decide at once where he should be trained for the service of his country, he sent in haste for his brother-in-law, the Bishop of Grenoble, that he might tell him the glad news and ask his advice in the matter.

The bishop came, and made good cheer at the Castle, several gentlemen of DauphinÉ having been invited thither to render him honour. He was as much delighted as the Sire du Bayard at the thought that Pierre would maintain the glory of his ancestors, and the day after his arrival advised that he should enter the service of Charles, Duke of Savoy. The Duke was then at ChambÉry, a place not far from the Castle, and the Bishop of Grenoble proposed taking his nephew to him the next morning.

Thus it was settled that little Pierre should leave his home for ever, and part with his brothers, his merry playmates in the woods and fields around Bayard, and his gentle mother, who loved him perhaps above all her other sons; but his father felt that he was getting weaker every hour, and since he was not rich, he was very anxious to provide for the welfare of his children as far as he could before he died.

First of all, however, it was agreed that Pierre must be equipped as a page, and the Bishop sent for his own tailor, bidding him bring with him satin and velvet, and all that was necessary for a page's dress in those days. The tailor had to work hard all night, and the next morning, Pierre in his new habit went down into the courtyard and mounted a war-horse, which stood there ready saddled, while his father and all his guests looked on from the lower windows of the Castle. The horse feeling so light a burden upon him grew restive, and it seemed each moment as if Pierre must have been thrown, but to the delight and astonishment of all who beheld him, the boy, who had left school only a fortnight before, managed his horse, as an old French writer tells us, with as much skill as if he had been thirty years of age.

The Sire du Bayard now bid him not to dismount, and gave him his blessing, after which all the rest of the people took leave of him. Pierre's eyes filled with tears when his father looked so proudly and lovingly at him. "Monseigneur, my father," he said, "I pray to our Lord to give you a long and happy life, and to me grace, so that before you quit this world, you may hear good news of me."

In the meantime his mother was weeping alone in a turret chamber of the Castle; for although she was glad that he had chosen to follow a soldier's life for the honour of his name, she grieved bitterly at the thought of parting with him, and feared that she should never see him again. She came down into the courtyard by a back staircase, and there took leave of him with many tears, and gave him words of advice which he remembered so well all his life long that he gained both from his friends and from his foes the title of "The good knight, without fear and without reproach."

These were some of the words she said: That he was to love and serve God, without giving Him offence, as far as in him lay; and that he could do no good work in this world without His help and blessing. That he was to be gentle and courteous to all, casting away pride; humble, ready to serve his fellow creatures, and sober in eating and drinking. That he was never to tell a lie, or flatter, or be a tale-bearer, or be idle; that he was to be loyal in deed and speech, to keep his word; to succour the widows and orphans, for which the Lord would repay him, and that he was to share with the needy such gifts as God might bestow upon him, since giving in honour of Him made no man poor.

When the noble lady had spoken thus, she gave her son a little purse, which contained a few pieces of gold, and then having implored a trusty servant of the Bishop's to be careful of him, because he was so very young to leave home, she bade him a last farewell.

The day after Pierre's arrival at ChambÉry was Sunday. After mass, a great banquet was served in honour of the Bishop of Grenoble, who was a very holy man, and much beloved by the Duke of Savoy. During the repast Pierre stood beside his uncle and poured out his wine for him, and when it was ended he did not linger over the remains of the feast with the pages and youths belonging to Duke Charles's household, but hastened back to his lodgings and saddled his horse, and having mounted it, went down to the courtyard of the palace.

The Duke had remarked his graceful bearing during dinner, and now seated in a gallery was watching him in the court below. Then the Bishop told him how the Sire du Bayard, being too much enfeebled by his wounds to lift his sword again, had sent his little son Pierre to him as a gift, and hoped that he would allow him to enter his service. The Duke of Savoy said that the present was both good and fair, and agreed to take young Bayard into his service without delay. So the Bishop returned home, and Pierre was left alone amongst strangers. He must have sorrowed at first for the old life at Castle Bayard, and the watchful love of his mother, but whatever he felt, he began to fulfil his duties with an earnest heart, and was kind and gentle to all around him, and never forgot to pray morning and night that the Almighty would give him grace to remain loyal and brave. Pierre lived with the Duke at ChambÉry for six months, and during that time he made himself beloved by every inmate of the house: he was a great favourite with the Duchess of Savoy, and had one little playmate, amongst the young maidens who were in attendance upon her, to whom he was much attached.

When the six months had expired the whole party set off on their mules, according to the custom of travelling at that time, to visit King Charles the Eighth in the city of Lyons. The king, struck with the reports he had heard of Bayard's conduct, and the knightly grace he displayed in his presence, made him his own page, and had him lodged in the house of the Seigneur de Ligny, a prince of the house of Luxembourg, to be trained with about thirty other noble youths in the use of arms.

There was a squire belonging to the household of the Duke of Savoy who loved little Pierre very much, and they had scarcely arrived at Lyons before he told him that he knew he should never be able to keep him after the king had once seen him exercise in the meadow of Esnay. King Charles witnessed the wonderful evolutions he performed on his war-horse with the greatest delight; he was never weary of seeing him spur on the animal to fresh gambols; "Pique,[20] pique, encore une fois!" he cried, and all the little pages echoing the words of the king, cried in their shrill voices, "Piquez, piquez!" so that Pierre was called long after by the familiar name of "Piquet" in memory of the day.

Before the Duke of Savoy left Lyons he gave a supper to the Seigneur de Ligny and some of the chief nobles in the city. The repast was enlivened by the music of the royal minstrels and singers: it was served early, and when it was ended the company played at various games all the remainder of the evening, and drank spiced wines before they separated. This was the usual manner of entertainment at that time, and if ladies were included in the invitations, there would be dancing until midnight, which was considered a very late hour.

The years passed on, and Pierre was very happy with his companions in the house of the Seigneur de Ligny. There was then living in Burgundy a brave knight named Claude de VauldrÉ, whom the king summoned to Lyons, in order that the young nobles of the city might contend with him, and thus give proof of the progress they had made in their martial studies.

As soon as Claude arrived he hung up his shield, and it was a custom that if any person touched a shield thus suspended, he gave a sign that he was ready to engage in combat with its owner.

One day, as Pierre was passing by, he sighed deeply, and said to himself, "Ah, if I only knew how to equip myself for the combat, how gladly would I touch yonder shield, and so gain some real knowledge of the use of arms!" One of his comrades, Bellabre, seeing him so full of care, asked him what he was thinking about; and when he told him of his desire, and his distress at having no money to buy horses and weapons, Bellabre advised him to ask help from his uncle, the rich AbbÉ of Esnay.

Bayard, with hope revived by this counsel, touched the shield, and after a sleepless night set off for Esnay very early in the morning, in a little boat, with Bellabre. They found the abbÉ saying his matins. He grumbled terribly at first at his nephew's request, saying that the money given by the founders of the abbey was to serve God with, and not to be spent in jousts and tilting. Bayard, however, prevailed upon him to provide him with a hundred crowns and two horses; and the abbÉ, in a more softened mood, ordered a merchant of Lyons to furnish him with all other things that he required.

The greatest wonder was expressed in Lyons that a youth not yet eighteen years of age should venture to contend with an experienced knight like Claude VauldrÉ; but when the day of trial came, Bayard repelled the thrusts of his opponent in the most daring and fearless manner; and the ladies who sat in the balconies, watching the combatants in the arena below, exclaimed with one voice that he had done better than all the rest.

One morning, soon after the tournament, the Seigneur de Ligny called Pierre to him, and told him that as the war the French had long been carrying on in Italy was to be continued, he should now enter his company, which was stationed at the little town of Ayre, in Picardy. The Seigneur told him also that he would give him three hundred francs a year for his service, and three horses, richly caparisoned. Bayard then went to take leave of the king, who bestowed on him, at parting, the finest horse in his stable; and last of all, he bade farewell with many tears to the good seigneur himself, whose house had been for him a second happy home. It is worthy of remark, throughout the life of the good knight, that in whatever circumstances he was placed, he always spoke of his happiness. And what was the secret of that happiness, which neither the agony he endured when he lay disabled by wounds could take from him, nor the hardships and toil he had to go through during his numerous campaigns? Surely it was his loving kindness to all around him, which sprang from his own love to Almighty God and his Son Jesus Christ. To do good is truly to be happy, and love begets love. Bayard was dreaded by the enemies of his country because he was so steadfast and brave; but we never find that he had one personal enemy, or that he harboured a quarrelsome thought.

As he drew near the little town of Ayre, his future comrades rushed out on the road to meet him, they were so glad to have him amongst them, and the ladies flocked to the windows to welcome him as he passed along the streets. Bayard had sent his servant on before to prepare a great supper at his lodgings, and there he entertained his new companions the night of his arrival. And very soon after he had a tournament cried in Ayre, which lasted two days and attracted a vast concourse of people to the spot.

It was the beautiful summer time, and the little town looked very gay with the banners streaming from its windows, and the bright armour of the knights and the jewels and silken robes of the ladies flashing in the sunlight. The trumpets were sounded, and Bayard was the first to enter the lists against one of his neighbours of DauphinÉ, who was a very rough man of arms. The good knight, before he vanquished him, broke his lance in five or six pieces. The trumpets sounded again in full clang, and in the next trial Bayard very nearly had his arm broken, but he won from his opponent a little casque adorned with plumes. Then came Bellabre and a formidable Scottish captain, named David Fergus, who was greatly renowned for his strength and skill.

When the first day's contest was over, there was joyous feasting and dancing in Ayre until midnight, and the next morning all the knights went to mass, after which they dined together in good fellowship, and at two o'clock in the afternoon they repaired to the arena to complete the trial. And at evening, when they had all done their part in the sport, and the air was filled with shouting and merry talking, the trumpets were sounded to command silence, and to Bayard was awarded the honour of decreeing the prizes. The young knight protested that he was not worthy of so great an honour, and was about to withdraw, but the people present insisted that he should adjudge them, and no other, because he had fought the best of all. So he gave the first prize, which was a bracelet of pure gold, to his friend Bellabre; and the second one, a fine diamond, to the gallant Scottish captain. It was usual for the knights to present the prizes they had thus won to the young maidens whom they had chosen for their brides. During the time Pierre remained in Ayre he made himself very much beloved by his liberality, and his readiness to help those who were in distress. Many of his companions were poor, although they were of noble family, and if any one of them wanted setting up in arms, or was in need of money, Bayard was sure to let him share the last crown piece he had in his purse. Besides this, he never forgot the poor, and every morning he used to attend the service of the church, which made him happy for the day, and strong to overcome evil.

When King Charles the Eighth undertook his expedition to Naples, the good knight accompanied him with the Seigneur de Ligny, and in the battle of Fornova, which the French gained over the Italians on their way back to France, he displayed great valour, and had two horses killed under him at the first charge. Whilst the French companies remained in Italy they were allowed to amuse themselves in tilting and jousts, provided no particular warfare was going on at the time; and Bayard had leisure to visit the Duchess of Savoy, at Carignan, and held a great tournament there in honour of the favourite playmate of his childhood, who was now married to Monsieur de Fluxas, an officer belonging to the household of Charles of Savoy. And here he saw many who recalled the happy days at ChambÉry: it was a joyous meeting on both sides, and Bayard remembered all those who had been kind to him when he first left the old castle of Bayard, and to the master palfrenier,[21] who was very fond of him, he gave a horse worth fifty pieces of silver; and to the squire, who had been so loth to part with him in Lyons, and had now retired from the service of the Duke of Savoy, he sent a mule, because the old man was ill with the gout, and could not walk.

After the death of Charles VIII., the Italian war was continued by his successor, Louis XII., and Bayard was constantly engaged in supporting the honour of the French arms. In the year 1503 Louis declared war against Ferdinand, of Arragon, because he had behaved very badly to him by pretending to be his ally, whilst in reality he was planning to take from the French all the places they had conquered in Italy. Three great armies were prepared to invade the dominions of Ferdinand on every side. The good knight served in the first: it was composed of 18,000 infantry, and 2,000 men-at-arms, and was destined for the recovery of the kingdom of Naples, which had been wrenched out of the hands of the French by Gonsalvo, the Great Captain.

By the time the army arrived in the south of Italy, the season was far advanced, and the French and the Spaniards remained for a long time on the opposite shores of the river Garigliano, near Naples. Pedro de Paz, the leader of the Spanish troops, was a man of the most daring courage, although in person he was so small, that it is said when he was on horseback his head was all that could be seen of him above the saddle. One day he formed a plan which, had it been carried out, would have caused very great loss to the French. This was to cross the Garigliano with a hundred men-at-arms, at a place where he knew there was a ford, in the hope that the French would hasten thither to resist him, and leave his other troops to gain possession of a bridge of boats which had been thrown across the river. His plan was successful in the beginning; there was a sudden alarm in the French camp. The good knight who always liked to be where the danger was greatest, had a lodging close by the bridge; he happened to be there at the time with only one of his squires. Having heard the noise, they were just going to arm themselves, and hasten to join in the affray, when Bayard perceived 200 of the enemy's horse advancing towards the bridge. He told his companion to fly to the rest of the army and give the alarm, whilst he amused the Spaniards until succour could arrive. The good knight then went alone to the bridge with his lance in his hand, and found the Spaniards just ready to cross at the other end. But he did not let them advance, and kept the bridge single handed until his squire came back with 100 men-at-arms; the enemy thought at last his efforts could not be human! The men-at-arms, with Bayard at their head, soon forced all the Spaniards to quit their post, and chased them a good mile beyond it; they would have pursued them farther, but they saw several hundred men coming to the rescue, and they turned their horses in the direction of the camp. Bayard was always the last to retreat; on this occasion he was far behind the others, his horse being so tired that it could only go very slowly on its way; and soon a body of Spaniards bore down suddenly upon him, his horse was thrown into a ditch, and he was surrounded by twenty or thirty Spanish knights, who kept crying "Surrender, SeÑor, surrender!" The good knight defended himself to the utmost, but he thought he should not be able to hold out long against so many, and fortunately his comrades, who had missed him just as they had reached the bridge, were seen hastening to the spot where he was so hardly pressed.

Directly the Spaniards heard the quick tread of their horses they carried him off, and kept asking his name; but he only replied that he was a gentleman; because if they had known whom it was they had captured he might never have come out of their hands alive. A cry, however, rose on the air, "Turn, Spaniards, you shall not carry away thus the flower of chivalry!" The French came up, and a fierce struggle ensued. Bayard mounted another horse, and soon extricated himself from his enemies, exclaiming the while, "France! Bayard, whom you let go!" The Spaniards were greatly vexed and discouraged when they found out how important a prize they had lost, and began at once to retreat, while the French rode home in the winter dusk joyful and triumphant to their camp.

The good knight held out bravely against the foes of his country, but the enterprise did not succeed, and a treaty was made which obliged the French to withdraw all their forces from the kingdom of Naples, and return by sea or land to their own country. Bayard and another valiant knight named Louis d' Ars, were very indignant that such a treaty should have been made; they refused to sign it, and said they would rather stay in Italy and perish by the sword than allow the Italians to believe that all Frenchmen were cowards; and they undertook to defend several small towns which remained to the French in Naples, with a few followers who would not forsake them, and sold all their jewels and silver plate that they might be able to buy provisions and ammunition. Thus, to the astonishment of Europe, these two knights maintained the honour of their countrymen in Italy, and did not give up the towns they had engaged to defend until the following year, when the king recalled them to France, and rewarded them in proportion to their services.

The good knight was dangerously wounded some years later at the taking of Brescia. This city had opened its gates to the victorious French three years before, but had been delivered into the hands of the Venetians through the treachery of an Italian count, who resided within its walls. As soon as the king's nephew, Gaston, Duke de Nemours[22] heard of this, he marched forty leagues in the depth of winter, in the hope of recovering the town, having already sent Bayard on in advance. The day after his arrival, they took possession of the citadel, which still held out for the French, and the next day they agreed to take the town by assault. The road leading down from the citadel to the rampart was very slippery on account of the heavy rains, and the duke was obliged to take off his shoes to prevent himself from falling; still he went bravely on, followed by the good knight and his men-at-arms. When the Venetians saw Bayard at the first rampart, they tried all they could to kill him; because, they said, if he were once overcome the others would never dare approach. Bayard steadily gained his way, however, and cheered his men on to victory until he passed the rampart, and a thousand of the French were enabled to make their entrance into the town. But in doing this he received a pike-wound in his thigh; the pike going in so hard that the end of it broke, and the iron was left in the flesh. Bayard told the captain beside him that he might lead off his men now that the town was won, but that he should never pass from the place again, and reckoned himself a dead man.

The knowledge that the Chevalier was severely wounded only served to make the French captains press on the assault with greater fury, and they fought their way into the public place, or square, where they killed many of the Venetians, and obliged the others to lay down their arms. The good knight was left with two of his archers, who tried to staunch the blood that flowed from his wounds. When they saw that all the strongholds in the town were gained, they sought around until they found a wooden plank, or door, and on this they carried him into the best looking house they could see. This house belonged to an Italian gentleman, who not very courageously had fled for safety to a monastery, and had left his wife and daughters in the town. The archers knocked at the door, and were allowed to carry in their burden, and they afterwards stationed themselves outside to prevent the enemy from entering. The Italian lady received Bayard very kindly; she was grieved to see him suffering so much, and went herself with one of the archers to fetch a good surgeon to dress his wound.

It was nearly five weeks before he could rise from his bed, and during that time he had sent his maÎtre d'hÔtel to seek for the lady's husband, so that the whole family might live happily together under his protection, their house being the only one in Brescia that was neither sacked nor pillaged. And he said afterwards that although he had endured the greatest pain from his wound, he had never once been unhappy, because he had been with friends; it only vexed him to think that the French were getting nearer the Spaniards every day, and that a battle would soon take place, in which he would not be able to assist; and he used to tell the Duke de Nemours, who came daily to see him whilst he remained in the town, because he loved him so much, that he would rather be borne to the battle-field in a litter than not be present at all. For it was the great object of the king of France to drive the Spaniards out of Lombardy, since he knew that as long as they were roving about in Italy, his duchy of Milan would never be secure.

One day Bayard found, to his joyful surprise, that he could walk once more, and his surgeon gave him leave to start at the expiration of two days for the French camp. According to the custom of the victorious French, the whole family were in reality the prisoners of Bayard, and the Italian lady was in great trouble of mind, thinking that he would demand at least ten or twelve thousand crowns for their ransom, which was more than they were able to pay. So on the morning of the day when the good knight was to depart after dinner, she came to him, and knelt down before him. Bayard would not suffer her to kneel, so rising, she presented him with a purse which contained 1,500 ducats. When she had opened it, he laughed: "How many are there, madam?" he asked. The lady thought that he was laughing because there were so few, and began to make excuses; but when the Chevalier found out that she wanted to pay her ransom, he declared that he would take nothing from her at all; that the welcome she had given him was worth more than a hundred thousand crowns, and that he should feel himself bound in gratitude to serve her until the end of his days. It was so unusual for the French to release their prisoners without a ransom that the Italian lady was deeply moved; she went down on her knees, and kissing the hand of the good knight, she said, "Flower of chivalry, may the Lord reward you for what you have done!" She pressed him so hard however to accept the purse that Bayard consented to take it out of esteem and respect for her, and her two daughters then came to bid him farewell. The damsels were very beautiful; they were skilled in embroidery, and could sing and play the lute and spinet, and many a time the Chevalier, as he lay writhing in pain, had been cheered by their music. When they came in, they too would have knelt to thank him for his kindness and protection, but he made them rise, and dividing the ducats into three parts, he gave each of them a thousand for a marriage portion, and the five hundred that remained he gave to their mother for the relief of the religious houses in Brescia, which had been plundered by the French. The maidens now produced the parting gifts they had prepared; the Chevalier received them very graciously, and said that he should wear them as long as he lived; one was a bracelet made of gold and silver thread, and the other a purse of crimson worked in gold. Then they all touched hands after the fashion of Italy, and the good knight bade them farewell kneeling, and they all wept bitterly when he rode away from the door, they were so grieved to think they should never see him again.

When Bayard reached the camp of the Duke de Nemours, he found that his countrymen had arrived only that day before Ravenna, and that the enemy were six miles off, but the next day they came nearer by two miles. The night but one before the famous battle of Ravenna, several captains were at supper with the Duke de Nemours, talking the while of the contest which was so soon to take place. Bayard was amongst the guests, and the Duke told him that as the Spaniards had a great respect for his talents, and were very anxious to know if he were in the camp, he thought it would be advisable for him to attempt some skirmish with them the next day, just to see how well they could fight. The good knight was delighted with the idea; "Monseigneur," he replied, "I promise you on my word of honour that, God helping, I shall see them so close before noon, that I shall be able to bring you news."

Now the Baron of Bearne, the Duke's lieutenant, coveted the glory of being the first to attack the enemy, and although the Chevalier was known to rise very early in the morning, he thought that he would rise earlier still, and thus steal a march upon him. So as soon as soon as the supper was ended, he went to tell all his followers to be ready armed before break of day, charging them also to keep the matter a profound secret.

When the good knight returned to his tent, he also arranged with some of the chief captains how the attack should be made, and then, they all went to rest until the trumpet should sound to awaken them at dawn.

It was very early the next morning when they set out, carrying with them the banners of the Duke of Lorraine unfurled, in the hope that they would bring them good luck. They did not, of course, know that the Baron of Bearne had already gone the same path; but the sound of weapons clashing, and of horses' hoofs, soon fell upon their ears; the baron had indeed crossed the canal which lay between the two armies, and had advanced to the enemy's camp; but he had been discomfited, and was forced to retire.

When Bayard saw that Neapolitans and Spaniards were boldly crossing the canal in pursuit of the fugitives, he called to his comrades to fly to the aid of their countrymen, and rushed before any into the midst of a troop of one hundred and twenty men. His comrades loved him too well not to follow him, and he chased the enemy back right into the camp, and overthrew there numbers of their tents, although the Spaniards were all astir and ready for battle. When he thought he had aroused them sufficiently, he sounded the trumpet for a retreat, and arrived in the camp of the Duke de Nemours with the news he had promised to bring him, but without having lost a single man.

The Duke now assembled all the captains and knights, and told them, that his uncle the king desired that a battle should take place at once, because he had heard that the Venetians and Swiss were about to descend into the Duchy of Milan; and it was agreed that the French army should pass the bridge of boats across the canal, and attack the enemy on the morrow.

The next morning the Duke came out of his tent at sunrise. "Look, gentlemen!" he said to his companions, "how red the sun is!" And one of them, who was much beloved by him, replied, "Do you know, Monseigneur, what that signifies? That a great captain will fall to-day: it will be either you or Cardonna, the viceroy." The duke only laughed at his remark, and went to watch the army passing the bridge with Bayard and some other knights, while the Spaniards, in great alarm, hastened to put the whole of their troops in battle array.

Just as the duke was telling the good knight, that they might fall an easy prey to their enemies, if any harquebussiers were concealed thereabouts, a body of from twenty to thirty Spaniards appeared, amongst whom was Pedro de Pas. Bayard was the first to speak. "Gentlemen," said he, "you will linger about here like ourselves until the play begins. I entreat that not a harquebuss be fired on your part, and we will not fire upon you." Pedro de Pas then asked the name of the knight who had spoken, and was overjoyed to find that he was really in the company of the Chevalier du Bayard, who had gained so much renown in Naples.

The Duke de Nemours was a merciful man, and he offered to settle the quarrel by single combat with the viceroy, to spare the effusion of blood. His followers, however, thought that the risk was too great; and the army having crossed the canal by eight o'clock in the morning, the battle began. It lasted many hours, and was very terrible on both sides; and although the Spaniards were defeated, the French bought their victory very dearly, with the life of their brave and good young prince, Gaston of Nemours. For the prediction of his friend had indeed been fulfilled, and he lay among the slain! The good knight fought all through that long battle like a hero; he had gone in pursuit of the enemy, and came back to the field late in the afternoon, to find that the duke was dead.

A short time after this, the Venetians, the Swiss, and the army sent by the Pope pressed forward, and the French were soon obliged to retire out of Lombardy, only leaving garrisons in some of the strong castles. At Pavia, Bayard made himself very famous by defending a bridge of boats, during two hours against the Swiss; he had two horses killed under him, and received a severe wound in the shoulder before he would give way. His companions thought that his wound was mortal, though he declared it was nothing, and they staunched it with moss, which they tore off the stems of trees, and with linen which they tore from their shirts. The good knight did not recover for a very long time after the French army had recrossed the mountains, and he went to his uncle the Bishop of Grenoble, in whose palace he was lodged and watched over, "like the precious stone set in pure gold." And he was so ill that he thought to his sorrow that he should die in his bed, instead of closing his eyes for ever on the battle-field; but all the people of Grenoble prayed for him—his good uncle, nobles, merchants, monks, and nuns; there was not a voice that did not rise up in prayer to the Almighty for his recovery. And after a long while his strength and spirit returned to him, and he remained some months at Grenoble, greatly honoured for all the brave deeds he had achieved.

In the battle of Guinegatte, commonly called the battle of the Spurs, from the speed with which the French soldiers took flight, the Chevalier was made prisoner, but not until he had saved his countrymen from entire disgrace by his valour. Henry the Eighth was then at war with France, and Maximilian, Emperor of Germany, was serving in the army of the English monarch for the pay of a hundred crowns a day.

Before Henry and Maximilian had arrived in the English camp, the Earl of Shrewsbury had begun the siege of Perouane, a town on the borders of Picardy, close by Guinegatte. The besieged had defended themselves bravely, and the governor of the province had succeeded in forcing his way through the English camp, to bring them a large supply of bacon and gunpowder. He had got safely back again, when the French horsemen, who had advanced to protect him, were attacked suddenly by a body of English, whilst they were straying carelessly about without their helmets and cuirasses, because they were overpowered by the intense heat of the day. Thus it was that they took flight, and that several noblemen amongst them of high rank were made prisoners. Bayard retreated with great regret; he had only fourteen men-at-arms with him, and yet he often turned back and faced his enemies. At last they came to a little bridge, where only two horsemen could pass at a time, and below it there was a deep ditch full of water. The good knight then sent word to the camp, by an archer that he had arrested the enemy for at least half an hour, and that delay, would give the army time to get into order. The archer went straight to the camp, and Bayard was left with his few men to guard the bridge. He was soon surrounded on all sides, and advised his people to surrender; and when they were all secured, he rode towards an English gentleman, who, either wearied with the fight or oppressed by the heat, was resting beneath a tree. Bayard put his sword to his throat, and exclaimed, "Surrender, man-at-arms, or you are a dead man!" The gentleman, naturally wishing to save his life, surrendered, and asked the stranger who he was. "I am the Captain Bayard," replied the knight, "and now I surrender to you, and give you my sword to hold, and entreat you to conduct me to some place of safety, and to have the kindness to let me have my sword, if we meet with any Englishmen on our way, who may desire to kill me." The gentleman promised this, and they set off for the camp of King Henry, and had really to defend themselves more than once, upon the road thither.

Bayard remained in the tent of his prisoner, who treated him well, but on the fifth day of his captivity, he said to him, "My gentleman, I wish you would lead me in safety to the camp of the king, my master, for I am utterly tired of being here."

"How?" cried the other. "We have not yet agreed as to your ransom."

"To my ransom, indeed!" said the knight; "but it is rather for me to think of yours, since you are my prisoner; and if I surrendered to you it was only to save my life. My gentleman," continued he, "whether faith is kept with me, or not, I feel assured that in some way I shall fight with you by and by."

The gentleman did not quite relish the idea of a combat with the redoubtable Bayard, so he replied in courteous terms, that he only wished to do what was right in the affair, and would consult with his captains.

When the enemy knew that Bayard was safe in the camp, they were as much pleased as if they had won another victory. The Emperor of Germany sent for him to his tent.

"Captain Bayard, my friend," said he, "I have great pleasure in seeing you. Would that I had many men like you! I think in a little while I should be able to avenge myself of all the tricks, your master has played me in times gone by." Presently, he said to him, "Methinks we have been at war together before, and I remember to have heard that Bayard was one who never fled."

"Sire," replied the Good Knight promptly, "if I had fled I should not have been here."

Then bluff King Harry came up and said, "Truly, Monsieur de Bayard, if all men were like you, the siege which I have begun before this town, would soon be raised; but any way you are my prisoner."

"Sire," answered the Chevalier, "I do not own it, and yet I would fain believe yourself and the emperor."

The gentleman whose tent Bayard had shared now appeared, and related the whole affair; and there was a discussion, as to which was really the prisoner. The Emperor, whose advice governed the movements of the English army, at last decided in favour of Bayard, but acquitted both on account of their mutual courtesy; and King Henry said that the Good Knight might leave the camp, if he would promise on his word of honour to remain unarmed for six weeks. Bayard was very grateful, both to the emperor and to the king, and went to divert himself in the country, in the best manner he could until the six weeks were passed. During this time the King of England tried by various means, to attach him to his service, but his trouble was thrown away; it would have been impossible for the Chevalier to have entertained a disloyal thought.

Not long after this Louis the Twelfth died, and his cousin, Francis, Count of AngoulÊme, was declared King of France. Immediately after his coronation, the young king began to prepare secretly for the conquest of Milan, that duchy having lately returned to the allegiance of the Italian duke Sforza. Bayard was ordered to repair with three or four thousand men, to the borders of his native province of DauphinÉ, and after performing several brave actions, he got down quietly into the plain of Piedmont. Prosper Colonna, the Pope's lieutenant, was there in the Castle of Carmaignolle. When he heard of the arrival of the Chevalier, he exclaimed, in a tone of extreme scorn, "That Bayard has crossed the mountains; I will take him as I would a pigeon in a cage!"

The other French captains arrived in the plain, and the Good Knight advised that they should rest their horses that night, and attack Colonna the next day at dawn in his castle.

They had a large piece of water to cross before they could get to the place; but they knew of a ford, and two or three hours after midnight they mounted their horses in silence, and set out on the road. Prosper was not alarmed, because he still thought that only Bayard was there with his company, and he would have remained at Carmaignolle, had he not received orders to change his quarters. He did not hurry himself in the least, and stopped on his journey to dine at a little town called Villefranche. When the French arrived at the castle, they found to their disappointment that Colonna was gone, and they all agreed to pursue him. The Seigneur d'Imbercourt was foremost in the troop; he soon reached the town; Colonna was already there, and his people shut the gates. The Good Knight came up in time however to gain them, and although the enemy gave the alarm to a body of three or four thousand Swiss, he made his way into the town, followed by his men-at-arms, and found the Italian commander seated at his dinner. Colonna was enraged at being thus captured, like "a pigeon in a cage" himself, instead of in battle; the Good Knight tried to cheer him up, and make the best of it, but the whole affair cost the signor, besides his liberty, 50,000 crowns worth of gold and silver plate, furniture, and money, and that was quite enough to make a man look sad. The French found a very large sum of money in the town, and nearly 700 beautiful coursers and Spanish horses.

Francis had already crossed the mountains which separate France from Italy. He was delighted to hear of the capture of Colonna, and soon waged the tremendous battle of Marignano with the Swiss, who were the partizans of Sforza and Colonna, and were indignant that Francis had succeeded in crossing the Alps. Marignano was situate about a league from the city of Milan. The Swiss were determined to defend the duchy to the last extremity, and had assembled a very large army. The battle began at four o'clock on a September afternoon in the year 1415, and was only discontinued when it was too dark to see to fight. The king passed the night in his armour on the carriage of a cannon, and was surprised at daybreak to find the enemy within a few paces of him in readiness to renew the attack. The young king and the chevalier fought at Marignano side by side, and both displayed extraordinary valour; and when the victory was decided for the French, Francis, to reward Bayard for the great share he had had in it, received the honour of knighthood from his hands.

The day of Marignano, "the combat of giants," as an old Italian hero called it, who had been in eighteen pitched battles, was disastrous indeed for the Swiss, for it is said that when they began to retreat they left 10,000 of their comrades lying dead upon the battle-field.

In the last charge that was made, Bayard was mounted on a fiery courser, the first he had ridden having been killed under him. He was so closely beset that the bridle was torn from his horse, and the animal, thus freed from restraint, galloped off and made its way through the enemy's ranks; it would have carried its rider right into the midst of a troop of Swiss, if its course had not been intercepted by a field full of vines entwined from tree to tree; the good knight but for this timely wall of defence, must assuredly have fallen into the hands of his enemies. He had not quite lost his senses in the rapid flight, and he glided down gently from his horse, threw away his arms and a part of his armour, and crawled along a ditch, in the direction as he supposed of the French camp. Fortunately he was not mistaken; he soon had the delight of hearing the cry of "France! France!" in the distance, and was enabled to reach his companions, and rejoice with them over the great victory they had gained; although a victory bought with the lives of so many fellow creatures, cannot but bring a sharp pang of sorrow to the heart of every man.

The fame of Bayard had now risen to such a height, that nearly all the young nobles of France, begged to be allowed the honour of serving under him, in the defence of the town of Mezieres. Maximilian and Ferdinand were both dead, and Charles V. was Emperor of Germany and King of Spain. Charles, who was quite as ambitious as the young king of France, had ordered the Count of Nassau to advance towards the frontiers, and lay siege to the town of Mousson. The men who defended it were cowards, and lay down their arms almost without fighting. The Count, finding this success so easy, next besieged Mezieres, and through this town the Emperor intended his troops to have passed into France. But Francis knew that if he suffered Mezieres to be taken, it would be the most foolish thing he could do; it was like giving the enemy the key of the gate that kept them out of France. So he wisely ordered Bayard to hasten to its defence; and although the Good Knight had only 1,000 men in the place, he obliged the Count of Nassau, and his 35,000 Germans, to retire with shame and loss after a lengthened siege. The service he thus performed for his country was very great, and the king rewarded him for it with a hundred lances, and the collar of St. Michael.

In the year 1524 he was sent into Italy to oppose the army of the Constable de Bourbon, who had left his own king to serve the Emperor. Bourbon was led to do this, on account of the many affronts he had received from the beautiful and haughty Louisa, of Savoy, the mother of Francis I.; still, however great the cause of offence may be, it is quite inexcusable for a man to bear arms against his country.

The chief command of the army was given to Bonnivet: he was very brave, but so rash that his zeal often did more harm than good, and he was totally wanting in the judgment, and presence of mind a great captain ought to possess. Lannoy, the viceroy of Naples, had collected a large number of troops; to these were added the forces of the Marquis of Pescara, the general of the Spaniards, and those of the traitor Bourbon. Bonnivet failed in his plan of attack, and was obliged to try and get back into France by crossing the valley of Aosta; but on his way he received a bad wound in the arm, and could no longer lead on his men. In his distress he sent word to Bayard that he alone could save the French army if he would. The good knight had thought the whole enterprise ill-judged, and when he set out at the head of his men-at-arms, he had not been cheerful and hopeful as he had been accustomed to be whenever he entered on a fresh campaign. Nevertheless he swore in reply to Bonnivet that he would either save the army or perish in the attempt; and as he had always courted the post of danger, he took the command of the rear, and made his men try bravely like himself to sustain the whole shock of the enemy's troops, whilst the rest of the army gained time to effect a retreat. This was at a place near Romagnano. As Bayard was thus striving he was wounded by a musket-ball, and the shock was so great that he uttered the word "Jesus," and then said that it was all over with him on earth. Faint from pain and loss of blood, he held on as long as he could to the bow of his saddle, but sank at last to the ground, and desired to be placed under a tree with his face turned towards the foe. And there the good knight lifted up the hilt of his sword, and kissed it as though it had been the cross, and saying, softly, "Miserere mei, Deus!" lay back pale and calm to wait for the approach of death. His faithful maÎtre d'hÔtel, who had followed him through many dangers, was with him now, and was almost beside himself with grief.

"Jacques, my friend," said the dying knight, "do not mourn for me. It is the will of God that I should quit this world where I have ever received a full measure of His grace, and far more honour than I deserved. The only regret I have in dying is, that I have not done all that I ought to have done, and if I had lived longer, I would have hoped to have made amends for my past faults. But as it is, I implore my Maker to have mercy upon my poor soul, and trust through his great and boundless love that he will not judge me with rigour; feeling assured that Thou, oh my Saviour, hast promised pardon to all those who turn to Thee with humble and contrite hearts."

In this condition he was found by the Constable de Bourbon, who spoke to him thus; "Monsieur de Bayard, truly I pity you."

"Ah, Monsieur," replied the chevalier, "do not pity me, but rather have compassion on yourself for having fought against your king, your country, and your oath."

The Marquis of Pescara came by soon after, and was deeply grieved to see him in such a state; he ordered a tent to be pitched over him, and had him tended with the utmost care, but it was of no avail; a mortal blow had been struck, and the good knight rendered up his soul to God, as so many of his ancestors had done, upon the battle-field.

Pescara had his body embalmed and conveyed to his kinsmen in DauphinÉ, and the Duke of Savoy decreed that royal honours should be paid to it on its mournful journey. When it reached DauphinÉ, people of all ranks came out to meet it, and then returned to their houses and shut themselves up in sorrow and gloom. The body was interred at Minimes, in a church founded by the Bishop of Grenoble.

There was mourning throughout many lands when it was known that the Good Knight was dead. King Francis was very much attached to him, and could not get over the loss he had sustained for a very long time. And the following year, when he had been obliged to surrender to Lannoy after the battle of Pavia, he exclaimed sadly within his prison walls, "Ah, Bayard, if thou hadst been alive, I should not have been here!"

Thus had the Chevalier lived, faithful to the promise of his childhood; ever ready to risk his life in the service of his country, helpful and loving to all, joyous and light-hearted. When he was in the enemy's territory he strictly defrayed every expense he incurred, and very often left some kind remembrance for those who had served him: in success he showed mercy, and made himself as much beloved by the vanquished as by his own soldiers. He never wished for the highest place or envied the good fortune of other men. Amid the spoils of war he seemed to desire nothing for himself, and one instance alone will suffice to show how far he was removed from any selfish feelings. During the war with the Spaniards, he received notice one day that a large sum of money was on its way to the Spanish commander. His own troops being in great want of necessaries he resolved to obtain this money, which was fair to do in warfare; so he sent some of his men to waylay the bearers of it in one part of the country, while his companion Tardien watched for it in another. Bayard had the good luck to seize the treasure, and found it to consist of 15,000 ducats. The Spaniard who carried it was in great terror at having fallen into the hands of the enemy, and gave it up without a murmur. Tardien was brave and merry-hearted, but he had the misfortune of being very poor, and he was terribly grieved on his return to the camp to find that he had not been the happy man to secure the money, and declared that the half of the sum would have redeemed his fortunes for ever.

Bayard was in a cheerful mood, and he asked his soldiers how much of the treasure they thought Tardien ought to receive. They replied, "None at all." Then Bayard, after enjoying for a time the dismay of his companion in arms, called him to him, and gave him 7,500 ducats, the exact half of the sum they had captured. The Good Knight then divided the remainder amongst his soldiers, not keeping one farthing for himself, and sent the Spaniard with an escort to a place of safety whence he could return to his own home.

[20] "Piquer," an old French word, signifying "to spur on, to animate, or encourage."