It was still early, but daylight had wholly departed; and, the moon not having yet risen, Caen was gradually enveloped in darkness, as my guide, after leading me through streets with which I was unacquainted, at length halted before the door of a house which had nothing to distinguish it from the ordinary dwellings of citizens in that town and others of the province of which it formed part. Having rung at the gate, we were readily admitted; and I, after being conducted up a stair, found myself in an apartment somewhat brilliantly lighted, and, as I thought, richly furnished. On a table, where stood a lamp that threw its brilliancy all over the room, were a flask and two drinking-cups; and on a couch, hard by, reclined a woman who rose as I entered, and welcomed me with a smile, which, of itself, would have sufficed to banish suspicion of anything like foul play being intended.
At this moment, when long years have intervened, I perfectly remember the impression which the first sight of that woman produced on me.
She was young – not more than twenty – and exquisitely beautiful, with a tall, graceful figure, hair dark as the raven's wing, dark, dark eyes, that seemed to pierce instantly to the heart, and features which, in later years, would have led me to suppose her a native of Italy. At that time, however, I was much too ignorant of countries and races to be capable of making any such distinctions; and as I stood silent, I certainly was not stupified, but I was lost in wonder.
"You know not the language of the country in which we are?" said she, with a voice and manner which completed the fascination.
"It grieves me, lady," I replied, "that I am not so familiar with it as to hold converse freely with the natives; but I know enough to understand and to make myself understood."
"It matters not," she said hastily; "for I know enough of the English tongue to spare you the inconvenience of speaking, or listening to, mine. Your name, or rather the name by which men call you, is Arthur Winram?"
"True," answered I, "I pass by that name; but I have reason to believe that I am entitled to bear one to which the world would pay more respect."
"On that point you shall be enlightened anon," said she, as she motioned me to a seat, and then added, gravely and in a tone of emotion, "but the tale I have to tell is one of bloodshed; and you will require all your courage to hear it to an end. Be pleased, therefore, to steel your heart for the trial."
As she spoke she raised the flask on the table, filled the cups that stood with it, took one herself, and made a sign for me to take the other. I obeyed; I put forth my hand; I took the cup; I raised it to my lips; and, as my blood was feverish with suspense, and my thirst, in consequence, intense, I drank copiously. I had scarcely done so when a marvellous change came over me. My head began to swim; the objects in the room seemed to dance before my face. Gradually my eyes grew dim; the figure of the woman faded from my sight; and I sank back overcome and unconscious.
CHAPTER XIII
THE BROKEN BRIDGES
After remaining three days in Caen, and despatching the Earl of Huntingdon to England in command of that fleet which carried not only the spoil of the Norman towns but a multitude of prisoners, among whom were some sixty knights, including the Count of Tancarville and the Count of Eu, Constable of France, King Edward led forth his army to pursue his career of conquest.
It soon appeared that the great Plantagenet would have to encounter a difficulty which, perhaps, he had little anticipated. At first, indeed, the progress of the English was as easy and as uninterrupted as before their arrival at Caen. Having taken the town of Louviers, and made themselves masters of much of the wealth the place contained, they marched into the county of Evreux; and Edward, with a view of drawing near to Rouen, where he hoped to attract many Norman men-at-arms to his standard, approached the banks of the Seine. But at this stage he found his operations unexpectedly checked. In fact, the French, acting under orders from Philip de Valois, whose alarm and rage knew no bounds, had deliberately and carefully broken down the bridges to prevent Edward crossing to the right bank; and it was not till he reached Poissy, in the Isle of France, not more than seven leagues from Paris, that he could see any way of overcoming the difficulty which his adversary had thrown in his way.
The bridge of Poissy, like the others on the Seine, had been destroyed by the French; but the beams and other parts were left by the river, and the king resolved on its reconstruction. Accordingly, he took up his residence for a few days in the convent of Poissy; and while his marshals pursued their ravages almost to the gates of Paris, burning St. Germain and St. Cloud by the way, he celebrated the feast of the Virgin Mary, sitting at table in scarlet robes, without sleeves, trimmed with furs and ermines.
The festival of St. Mary over, the marshals having returned, and the bridge having been repaired, Edward again donned his mail, passed the Seine on the 15th of August, and turned his face toward Calais, which it was his object to reach. But after taking the town and castle of Poix the king found himself in a still more awkward dilemma than that from which he had freed himself; for the Somme, a broad and deep river, presented an apparently insuperable obstacle to his progress; and he pushed forward to Airaines, a town four leagues from Amiens, with the melancholy conviction that his own situation and that of his army was critical in the extreme.
Every bridge on the Somme had been broken down, and not a jot of information as to a ford could be obtained for love or money. Before Edward was the river, apparently impassable; behind him a mighty army bent on his destruction; for Philip of Valois had taken the field, and around his banner had gathered half the feudal warriors of Europe. From Bohemia, from Germany, from Luxembourg, from Hainault, from Savoy, and from Lorraine, they had rushed under kings and princes of fame, and were coming on the track of the English like hunters pressing on to the lion's death. It was vain to think of a refuge, for the invaders were in a hostile country, with no place of sufficient strength to afford a chance of security. But the king's heart did not fail him even in that day of trial.
"Here," said he, on reaching Airaines, "we halt for three days; during that time we must find or make a way to pass the Somme; and once on the other side we will, please God and St. George, show our adversaries how, when closely pressed, the lion can turn to bay."
But three days passed, and, in spite of all the efforts of the marshals, matters remained as they had been, save that the enemy drew rapidly nearer, and the English army seemed doomed; and many muttered, "All is lost."
CHAPTER XIV
A RUSH FOR LIBERTY
I must now leave the King of England and his army at Airaines, retrace my steps to Caen, and relate what befell me in that city when I so unexpectedly, and under such mysterious circumstances, sank in unconsciousness.
It is not in my power to say how long I remained insensible of the position in which I was. I awoke, however, with a feeling of sickliness, which was speedily succeeded by one of horror. It was pitch dark; my limbs felt cramped and confined; and when I strove to recover my feeling of freedom, I discovered, to my consternation, that I was bound hand and foot. I almost lost my senses on making this discovery; but, fortunately, drowsiness crept over me, and I again yielded to slumber. It was well that such was the case, as it probably saved me from despair and delirium.
When I again awoke it was broad daylight, and I was better able to judge of my predicament. I immediately perceived that I was reclining on straw in a small chamber, lighted by a window that was high from the floor, and that there was no appearance of any door by which an escape might be attempted. Nor was this all. My hands and feet were firmly bound with cords. I was evidently a prisoner, and perhaps destined for a victim.
My reflections at that moment, as may be supposed, were not of the most agreeable kind; and I thought with a deep sigh, of my grandsire's grange, and, almost with remorse, of my mother's warning. Not unnaturally I cursed the fortune which, after deluding my fancy with promises of a golden future, reduced me suddenly to the condition of a captive, without even leaving me the power of striking a blow for my deliverance.
As I reflected and murmured, I was interrupted by the