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From Chronicles of England, France and Spain and the Surrounding Countries, by Sir John Froissart, Translated from the French Editions with Variations and Additions from Many Celebrated MSS, by Thomas Johnes, Esq., Volume II, London: William Smith, 1848. pp. 269-287.


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CHAPTER LXXX. — THE KING OF ENGLAND HAVING LEFT LONDON, SIR SIMON BURLEY IS BEHEADED, TO THE GREAT DISPLEASURE OF THE KING AND QUEEN. — A CHANGE OF THE MINISTRY.

ALTHOUGH the king of England had left London, his uncles there remained with their advisers. You have often heard, that when any disorder is in the head, all the other members of the body are affected by it, and that this sickness must be purged away by some means or other. I say this, because the duke of Ireland was in such favour with the king, that he managed him as he pleased, and governed him at will. Sir Simon burley was also one of the principal advisers; and between them both they ruled, for a long time, king and kingdom. They were suspected of having amassed very large sums of money, and it was rumoured they had sent great part of it for safety to Germany. It ha also come to the knowledge of the king, his uncles, and the rulers of the principal towns in England, that great cases and trunks had been secretly embarked from Dover castle in the night-time, which were said to contain this money sent fraudulently abroad by them to foreign countries, in consequence of which the kingdom was greatly impoverished of cash. Many grieved much at this, saying, that gold and silver were become so scarce as to occasion trade to languish. Such speeches increased the hatred to sir Simon Burley, and the commissioners declared they thought he deserved death. In short, they, on finishing his accounts, condemned him to suffer this punishment, instigated thereto by a desire to please the country, and by the archbishop of Canterbury, who related to the lords that sir Simon wanted to remove the shrine of St. Thomas from Canterbury to Dover-castle, as he said, for greater security, at the time the French invasion was expected; but it was commonly believed that he meant to seize it, and carry it out of England. Many, now he was in prison, came 270 forward against him; and the knight was so overpowered, that nothing he could say in his defence availed him; so that he was carried forth out of the Tower, and beheaded, as a traitor, in the square before it. God have mercy on his misdeed! Notwithstanding I thus relate his disgraceful death, which I am forced to by my determination to insert nothing but truth in this history, I was exceedingly vexed thereat, and personally much grieved; for in my youth I had found him a gentle knight, and, according to my understanding, of great good sense. Such was the unfortunate end of sir Simon Burley.

Hi nephew and heir, sir Richard Burley, was with the duke of Lancaster in Galician, when this misfortune befel his uncle, and one of the most renowned in his army, after the constable; for he had once the chief command of the whole army, and instructed sir Thomas Moreaux in his office of marshal; he was likewise of the duke’s council, and his principal adviser, You may suppose that, when he heard of the disgraceful death his uncle had suffered, he was mightily enraged; but, alas! this gallant knight died in his bed, in Castile, of sickness, with very many more, as I shall fully relate when arrived at that part of my history.

When king Richard, who was amusing himself in Wales, heard of the death of sir Simon Burley, he was very wroth; for he had been one of his tutors and had educated him; and he swore it should not remain unrevenged, for he had been cruelly put to death, and without the smallest plea of justice. The queen also bewailed his loss; for he had been the principal promoter of her marriage, and had conducted her from Germany to England. The king’s council began now to be seriously alarmed, such as the duke of Ireland, sir Nicholas Bramber, sir Robert Tresilian, sir John Beauchamp, sir John Salisbury, and sir Michael de la Pole. The archbishop of York, whose name was William Neville, brother to the lord Neville of Northumberland, was dismissed from his office of lord treasurer, which he had held a considerable time, and forbidden, by the duke of Gloucester, if he valued his life, ever again to intermeddle with the affairs of England; but he might retire to his bishopric of York, or to any other part of his diocese, for that of late he had been by far too busy. He was told that, from consideration of his dignity and birth, many things had been overlooked that were highly disgraceful to him; and that the greater part of the deputies from the cities and towns were for having him degraded from the priesthood, and punished in like manner to sir Simon Burley. He soon left London, and went to reside on his archbishopric in the north, which was worth to him about forty thousand francs a year. His whole family were much enraged, and though his disgrace had been caused by Henry of Northumberland, though he was his relation and neighbour.

The archbishop of Canterbury, who was valiant and learned, and much in the favour of the king’s uncles, succeeded to the treasurership: he was of the family of the Montagues and the earl of Salisbury was his uncle*. The commissioners appointed the earl of Salisbury, the earl of Arundel, the earl of Northumberland, the earl of Devonshire, the earl of Nottingham, and the bishop of Norwich, who was called sir Henry de Spenser, the king’s council; but the bishop of Winchester retained his office of chancellor, and continued near the person of the king’s uncles. The most renowned of the council, after the duke of Gloucester, was sir Thomas Montague, archbishop of Canterbury; and well was he deserving of it, for the great pains he took to reform the abuses of government, and withdraw the king from the management of his minions. He spoke very frequently on this subject to the duke of York, who replied, — “Archbishop, matters will, by degrees, turn out differently from what my nephew and the duke of Ireland imagine. But we must wait for a favourable opportunity, and not be too pressing; for what is done in haste is never well done. I agree with you, that if we had not in time taken up this business, the king would have been so governed, that the kingdom must have been ruined. The king of France and his council were well acquainted with our state; and for this did they make such immense preparations, to take the advantage to invade us.”

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*  This must be a mistake. In 1381 William Courtney was archbishop of Canterbury, and in 1391 Thomas Fitzallan, son of the earl of Arundel.



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CHAPTER LXXXI. — WHILE THE COUNCIL, ON THE SATES OF THE NATION, IS SITTING AT LONDON, KING RICHARD, BY THE ADVICE OF THE DUKE OF IRELAND, DETERMINES TO WAGE WAR AGAINST HIS UNCLES AND THE PRINCIPAL TOWNS.

IN like manner as the king’s uncles and the new council of state were devising at Westminster on the means of reforming abuses in the government, and of having the king and realm under their power, the duke of Ireland and his council were plotting day and night how they could keep their places, and destroy the uncles of the king, by means of which I will now explain.

When king Richard, accompanied by his queen*, arrived at Bristol, which is a handsome and strong town, he fixed his residence in the castle. Those in Wales, and at a distance, thought he had done so to favour the duke of Ireland, who had caused it to be reported that he intended going from thence to Ireland, and to assist him with money to increase his followers, for that had been agreed on by the parliament. It had been ordered that the duke, on setting out for Ireland, where he was to remain three years, should have the command of five hundred men at arms and fifteen hundred archers, paid by England, and that money for this purpose should be punctually remitted to him. But the duke had no inclination to go thither; for, as the king was so young, he managed him as he pleased, and, should he leave him, he was afraid the king’s affection would be cooled. Add to this, he was so greatly enamoured with one of the queen’s damsels, called the Landgravine, that he could never quit her. She was a tolerably handsome pleasant lady, whom the queen had brought with her from Bohemia. The duke of Ireland loved her with such ardour, that he was desirous of making her, if possible, his duchess by marriage. He took great pains to obtain a divorce from his present duchess, the daughter of the earl of Bedford, from Urban VI., whom the English and Germans acknowledged as pope. All the good people of England were much astonished and shocked at this; for the duchess was grand-daughter of the gallant king Edward and the excellent queen Philippa, being the daughter of the princess Isabella. Her uncles, the dukes of York and Gloucester, were very wroth at this insult; but, notwithstanding their hatred, which he held cheap, the duke of Ireland was so smitten and blinded by his love, he was using every means to obtain a divorce, and had promised the lady he would make her his wife, if he had the king and queen’s consent, and a dispensation from Rome, which the pope would not dare refuse him; for his present lady was a Clementist, and the lord de Coucy, her father, had made war in Italy for Clement, against Urban, which inclined the latter not to be over-fond of him; and induced him to listen too readily to the proposals for a divorce. Thus was he urging on matters, according to his promise to the landgravine of Bohemia, and would not have any connexion with his wife by legal marriage. But this duke of Ireland had a mother living, the countess dowager of Oxford, who, so far from approving her son’s conduct, greatly blamed him for his follies, saying that he would by them anger Heaven, who would one day punish him severely, when it would be too late to repent. She had the duchess home with her, and gave her as handsome an establishment as she could, so that all who loved the young lady were pleased with this conduct.

In such a situation was the kingdom of England; but, to bring its history to a conclusion, I will continue the subject from the information I then received. You have heard that the duke of Ireland kept close to the king during his residence at Bristol and in Wales, solely occupied night and day with the means of succeeding in his plans. He was assiduous in his attentions to the king and queen, and to all knights and squires who waited on them at Bristol and at that hunts in that neighbourhood, to draw them over to his faction; for the king suffered him to act as he pleased.

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The duke, during this period, took infinite pains in visiting all the gentlemen near to Bristol, and went frequently into Wales, where he complained to all who would listen to him, gentlemen or others, that the king’s uncles, from their ambition to obtain the government, had driven from the council the most noble and wisest members, such as the archbishop of York, the bishop of Durhan, the bishop of London, sir Michael de la Pole, sir Nicholas Bramber, sir John Salisbury, sir Robert Tresilian, sir John Beauchamp, and himself; that they had put to death, without any justice whatever, that valiant knight sir Simon Burley; and, if they continued to govern as they had begun, they should soon destroy all England. He repeated this so often, and with such success, that the greater part of the knights and squires of Wales and of the adjoining countries believed him. They came to Bristol, and demanded from the king, if what the duke had told hem had his approbation. The king replied it had, and begged of them, from their affection to him, to put every confidence in the duke, for that he would avow whatever he should do; adding, that in truth his uncles were too ambitious, and that he had his fears they intended to deprive him of his crown. Those from Wales, who had always loved the prince of Wales, father to the king, having heard of the transactions in London, were firmly persuaded that the king and the duke of Ireland had been wronged, and demanded from the king how he wished them to act. The king answered, “He would gladly see the Londoners, who had been the chief movers in this business, punished and brought to their senses, as well as his uncles.” The Welchmen said they were bounden to obey his commands, for he was their king and sovereign lord, to whom, and to none else, they owed faith and homage. They were therefore willing to go whithersoever he would order them. The king and the duke of Ireland were well satisfied with this answer; and the latter, seeing the king take up the matter as personal to himself, an eager to attack his adversaries, was extravagant in his joy, and said to the council, “they could not act better than return to London to show their force, and, by fair or other means, bring the citizens back to their obedience; and he also said, and always represented to the king, that whenever there were so may rulers in a kingdom, it must be its ruin.” The king said, “That his opinion was the same, and that, if hitherto he had suffered things to be so carried, he would not nay longer, but bring forward such a remedy that other countries should take example from it.”

Now, consider in your own mind if I had not good cause to say that England was, at this period, in the greatest peril of being ruined past recovery. It certainly was, from the causes you have heard; for the king was exasperated against his uncles and the principal nobility of the kingdom, and they were so likewise against him and many nobles of his party. The cities and towns were quarrelling with each other, and the prelates in mutual hatred, so that no remedy for all these evils could be looked for but from god alone. The duke of Ireland, when he perceived he had gained the king, and the greater number of those in Bristol, Wales, and the adjoining parts, proceeded to say to the king, — “My lord, if you will appoint me your lieutenant, I will lead twelve or fifteen thousand men to London, or to Oxford, which is yours and my city, and show my strength to these Londoners and your uncles, who have treated you with such indignity, and have put some of your council to death, and, by fair words or otherwise, reduce them to obedience. The king replied, he was satisfied; adding, “I now nominate you lieutenant-general of my kingdom, to assemble men wherever you can raise them, and to lead them whithersoever you shall think it will be most for the advantage of our realm, that all may see the whole of it to be our inheritance and right. I order you to bear our banner, guidon, standard, and other our proper habiliments of war, which we ourselves should have done, had we taken the field. I should imagine, that all conditions of men, on perceiving my banners, would flock to enrol themselves under them, and would be fearful of incurring, by a contrary conduct, my displeasure.” This speech greatly rejoiced the duke of Ireland.

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*  So says Jean Petit, “et la rayne avecques lui.”

  There is a variation in the copies of the original, as Jen Petit runs thus: — “When he departed from the king and his uncles, it was agreed with him that in case he should go on this voyage, he should have, at the charge of England, five hundred men at arms and fifteen hundred archers. And it was ordered that he should abide there three years, and that he should always be well paid.” This reading appears to be simpler than that of the text. See Jean Petit’s edition, vol. III. p. 46.





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CHAPTER LXXXII. — THE KING OF ENGLAND ISSUES HIS ORDERS FOR ALL CAPABLE OF BEARING ARMS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF BRISTOL TO MARCH TO LONDON. — SIR ROBERT TRESILIAN, SENT THITHER AS A SPY, IS DISCOVERED, AND BEHEADED BY COMMAND OF THE KING’S UNCLES.

THE king of England issued his summons to many great barons, knights, and squires in Wales, in the country round Bristol, and on the Severn-side. Some excused themselves by sending satisfactory reasons; but others came and placed themselves under the obedience of the king, notwithstanding their convictions that it was impossible to augur anything good from the enterprise.

While this army was collecting, the king and the duke, in a secret conference, determined to send one of their confidential friends to London, to observe what was going forward, and, if the king’s uncles still remained there, to discover what they were doing. After some consideration, they could not think on a proper person to send on this errand; when a knight, who was cousin to the duke, and of the king’s as well as of his council, called sir Robert Tresilian, stepped froth, and said to the duke, — “I see the difficulty you have to find a trusty person to send to London: I will, from my love to you, risk the adventure.” The king and the duke, well pleased with this offer, thanked him for it. Tresilian left Bristol disguised like a poor tradesman, mounted on a wretched hackney: he continued his road to London, and lodged at an inn where he was unknown; for no one could have imagined that one of the king’ s counsellors and chamberlains would have appeared in so miserable a dress.

When in London, he picked up all the news that was public, for he could not do more, respecting the king’s uncles and the citizens. Having heard there was to be a meeting of the dukes and their council at Westminster, he determined to go thither to learn secretly 273 all he could of their proceedings. This he executed, and fixed his quarters at an ale-house right opposite the palace-gate: he chose a chamber whose window looked into the palace-yard, where he posted himself to observe all who should come to this parliament. The greater part he knew, but was not, from his disguise, known to them. He, however, remained there, at different times so long, that a squire of the duke of Gloucester saw and knew him, for he had been many times in his company. Sir Robert instantly recollected him, and withdrew from the window; but the squire, having his suspicions, said, “Surely that must be Tresilian;” and to be certain of it, he entered the ale-house, and said to the landlady, — “Dame, tell me, on your troth, who is he drinking above: is he alone or in company?” “On my troth, sir,” she replied, “I cannot tell you his name; but he has been here some time.” At these words, the squire went up stairs to know the truth, and having saluted sir Robert, found he was right, though he dissembled by saying, — “God preserve you, master! I hope you will not take my coming amiss, for I thought you had been one of my farmers from Essex, as you are so very like him.” “By no means,” said sir Robert; “I am from Kent, and hold lands of sir John Holland, and wish to lay my complaints before the council against the tenants of the archbishop of Canterbury, who encroach much on my farm. “If you will come into the hall,’ said the squire, “I will have way made for you to lay your grievances before the lords.” “Many thanks,” replied sir Robert: “not at this moment, but I shall not renounce your assistance.” At these words, the squire ordered a quart of ale, which having paid for, he said, “God be with you!” and left the ale-house. He lost no time in hastening to the council-chamber, and called to the usher to open the door. The usher, knowing him, asked his business: he said, “He must instantly speak with the duke of Gloucester, on matters that nearly concerned him and the council.” The usher, on this, bade him enter, which he did, and made up to the duke of Gloucester, saying, “My lord, I bring you great news.” “Of what?” replied the duke. “My lord, I will tell it aloud; for it concerns not only you but all the lords present. I have seen sir Robert Tresilian, disguised like a peasant, in an ale-house close by the palace-gate.” “Tresilian!” said the duke. “On my faith,” my lord, “It is true; and you shall have him to dine with you, if you please.” “I should like it very much,” replied the duke; “for he will tell us some news of his master, the duke of Ireland. Go, and secure him; but with power enough not to be in danger of failing.”

The squire on these orders, left the council-chamber, and, having chosen four bailiffs, said to them, — “Follow me at a distance; and, as soon as you shall perceive me make you a sign to arrest a man I am in search of, lay hands on him, and take care he do not, on any account, escape from you.” The squire made for the ale-house where he had left sir Robert, and, mounting the staircase to the room where he was, said, on entering, — “Tresilian, you are not come to this country for any good, as I imagine; My lord of Gloucester sends for you, and you must come and speak with him.” The knight turned a deaf ear, and would have been excused, if he could, by saying, I am not Tresilian, but a tenant of sir John Holland.” “That is not true,” replied the squire; “your body is Tresilian’s, though not your dress.” And, making the signal to the bailiffs, who were at the door, they entered the house and arrested him, and, whether he would or not, carried him to the palace. You may believe there was a great crowd to see him; for he was well known in London, and in many parts of England. The duke of Gloucester was much pleased, and would see him. When in his presence, the duke said, — “Tresilian, what has brought you hither? How fares my sovereign? Where does he now reside?” Tresilian, finding he was discovered, and that no excuses would avail, replied, — “On my faith, my lord, the king has sent me hither to learn the news: he is at Bristol, and on the banks of the Severn, where he hunts and amuses himself.” “How!” said the duke, “You do not come dressed like an honest man, but like a spy. If you had been desirous to learn what was passing, your appearance should have been like that of a knight or a discreet person.” “My lord,” answered Tresilian, “if I have done wrong, I hope you will excuse me; for I have only done what I was ordered.” “And where is your master, the duke of Ireland?” — “My lord,” said Tresilian, “he is with the king, our lord.” The duke then added, — “We have been informed that he is collecting a large body of men, and that the king has issued his summons to that effect: whither does he mean to 275 lead them?” “My lord, they are intended for Ireland.” — “For Ireland!” said the duke. “Yes, indeed, as God may help me,” answered Tresilian.

The duke mused awhile, and then spoke: “Tresilian, Tresilian, your actions are neither fair nor honest; and you have committed a great piece of folly in coming to these parts, where you are far from being loved, as will be shortly shown to you. You, and others of your faction, have done what has greatly displeased my brother and myself and have ill-counselled the king, whom you have made to quarrel with his chief nobility. In addition, you have excited the principal towns against us. The day of retribution is therefore come, when you shall receive payment for whoever acts justly receives his reward: look to your affairs, for I will neither eat nor drink until you be no more.” This speech greatly terrified sir Robert, (for no one likes to hear of his end,) by the manner in which it was uttered. He was desirous to obtain pardon, by various excuses, and the most abject humiliation, but in vain; for the duke had received information of what was going on at Bristol, and his excuses were fruitless. Why should I make a long story? Sir Robert was delivered to the hangman, who led him out of the palace to the place of execution, where he was beheaded, and then hung by the arms to a gibbet. Thus ended sir Robert Tresilian.





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CHAPTER LXXXIII. — WHEN THE NEWS OF THE DEATH FO SIR ROBERT TRESILIAN IS BROUGHT TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK AND SIR NICHOLAS BRAMBER, THEY CONFIRM THE KING IN HIS INTENTION OF MAKING WAR ON HIS UNCLES. — THE DUKE OF IRELAND, AS LIEUTENANT-GENERAL, LEADS THE ARMY TO OXFORD.

INTELLIGENCE was hastily carried to king Richard at Bristol, that sir Robert Tresilian had been put to a shameful death. He took it sorely to heart, and swore things should not remain in the state they were; for his uncles were conducting themselves ill, and putting to death, without the least plea of justice, his knights and servants, who had loyally served him, and the prince his father, plainly showing their intentions were to deprive him of his crown, and that such conduct touched him too nearly not to resent it. The archbishop of York had been the chief of his council for a considerable time, and, being then with the king, said, — “My lord, you ask counsel, and I will give it to you. Your uncles behave shamefully, and want to make the world believe you have only traitors near your person, and that you take counsel from none but them. Great danger now hangs over the country: issue your summons for all capable of bearing arms, gentlemen and others, to join you here; and, when they be assembled, march them under the orders of the duke of Ireland, who will gladly take the command, towards London; and let there be no other banners but those with your own arms, to show more distinctly the business is our own. The whole country, on their line of march, will join them, and perhaps the Londoners also, who have no personal hatred to you, who have never done them any injury. All the mischief that could have been done you has already been effected by your uncles. Here is sir Nicholas Bramber, who has been frequently mayor of London, and whom you created a knight for the gallant service he performed in former times*; consult him, for he ought to be well acquainted with the Londoner, being a fellow-citizen, and must, likewise, have some steady friends among them. You run a risk of losing your kingdom from those tumultuous and disloyal proceedings.

The king, on this, turned to sir Nicholas Bramber, and desired him to speak. “My lord,” said sir Nicholas, “since you command me, I will speak my sentiments before these lords, according to the best of my judgment. In the first place, I do not believe, nor ever shall, that the majority of the Londoners are wanting in affection to our lord who is present. They greatly loved my lord, the prince his father, of happy memory; and they gave proofs of their loyalty, when the rabble of peasants rose in rebellion: for, to say the truth, had they been inclined to have joined them, there would have been an end of the king and 276 monarchy. The uncles of the king have it now all before them, and laugh at the citizens whom they make believe whatever they please; for there is no one to contradict them, or to show what falsehoods they daily publish. They have put aside all the king’s officers, myself in the number, and replaced them with others of their way of thinking. They have sent the king to a corner of his kingdom; and one cannot suppose any good will follow, for we are perfectly ignorant what their ultimate intentions may be. If matters continue in this state much longer, the king will be driven out of his kingdom; for they act by force, and the king by kindness. Have they not already put to death that gallant knight sir Simon Burley, who had performed such meritorious services beyond sea? And have they not, publicly, imputed to him the greatest falsehoods, which they knew to be untrue, such as, that he intended to deliver to the French the town and castle of Dover, and that, for that purpose, he had caused them to assembly at Sluys and other parts of Flanders? Have they not, also, in despite to the king, disgracefully slain his knight, sir Robert Tresilian? And they will treat the rest in the same manner the very instant they can lay hands on them: I therefore advise, that the king use rigorous measures. It is well known throughout England that he is king; that he was educated by our late valiant and good king Edward, at Westminster, who made all his subjects, great and small, swear obedience to him as their king, after his decease, which oath the king’s uncles also took. It appears to many, if they dare speak out, that he is not now considered as king, nor does he keep the state or manner of a king; for he is not suffered to act as he pleases: they have only allowed him and his queen a pension, and plainly show them, that they have no sense to govern the realm, and that their whole council is made up of traitors and evil-designing men. I say therefore, that such conduct is not longer to be borne, and I would rather die than remain in such a state of danger, and see the king thus treated, and ruled as he is by his uncles.” The king interrupted him by saying, — “What is now doing does not please us; and I tell you, that the advice you have given seems to me both honourable and good for us and for our realm.” The conference now broke up; but not before the duke of Ireland was ordered as king’s lieutenant, to march, with all the force he could collect, towards London, to try the courage of the citizens, and see if, by negociation and the greatest promises on the part of the king, he could not turn them to his faction. It was not long before the duke, with fifteen thousand men, left Bristol on his march to Oxford, where they quartered themselves, and in the country round about. They bore banners and pennons with only the arms of England, for the king would have it known it was his personal quarrel.

News was carried to the dukes of York and Gloucester, that the duke of Ireland was on his march to London with fifteen thousand men; that they were already at Oxford, and that he bore the king’s own banners. It was time for them to consider how to act: they summoned all the principal leaders in London for wealth or power to a conference at Westminster, wherein they told them how the duke of Ireland was marching against them with a large force. The citizens, like persons prepared to obey the will of the king’s uncles, for they were in truth all so inclined, replied, — “Be it so, in God’s name; if the duke of Ireland demand battle from us, he shall have it. We will not shut a gate for his fifteen thousand men: no, nor for twenty thousand, if he had them.” The dukes were much contented with this answer, and instantly employed numbers of persons to assemble knights and squires from all parts, and archers from the principal towns. Those whom the dukes had summoned obeyed, as was just, for they had sworn so to do. Men came from the counties of Norwich, Kent, Southampton, from Arundel, Salisbury and the country round London. Many knights and squires came thither also, without knowing whither they were to be sent or conducted.

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*  Alluding to his conduct at the time Wat Tyler insulted the king in Smithfield.



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CHAPTER LXXXIV. — THE DUKE OF IRELAND SENDS THREE KNIGHTS TO LONDON TO LEARN INTELLIGENCE. — THE DUKES OF YORK AND GLOUCESTER TAKE THE FIELD AGAINST THE DUKE OF IRELAND AND HIS ARMY.

I WILL now say something of the duke of Ireland, who had fixed his quarters at Oxford. He had indeed fifteen thousand men, but the greater part had joined him more through constraint than good-will. The duke, to sound the Londoners, resolved to send thither sir Nicholas Bramber, sir Peter Gouloufre, and sir Michael de la Pole: they were to enter the town by the Thames, and to hoist the king’s flag, and observe how the citizens, on seeing it, would act. These three knights, in compliance with the duke’s orders, left Oxford with only thirty horse, and rode secretly to Windsor, where they lay that night. On the morrow, they crossed the Thames at the bridge of Staines, and dined in the king’s palace at Shene*, where they remained until late in the evening, when they departed and rode for another of the king’s palaces at Kensington, nearer London three leagues distant, where they left their horses, and, having entered boats, took advantage of the tide, and passed through London-bridge unobserved, for the watch had not any suspicions of their arrival. They entered the Tower of London, and found the governor whom the king had appointed. From him they learnt many things relative to the king’s uncles, and what was passing in London. He told them they had run great risks in coming to him. “How so?” said they. “We are knights attached to the king’s person, and may surely lodge ourselves in any of his castles.” “You will not find things so,” answered the governor: “for though this town and all within it are willing to submit themselves to the obedience of the king, they will only do so as long as he will allow himself to be governed by his uncles, and no longer. What I tell you is for your welfare; and I am bound to advise you, as far as my abilities and understanding will enable me; for I suspect that when day shall return to-morrow, if it please God, and news got abroad that there are arrived in the Tower persons on the part of the king, you will see this castle besieged by the citizens on all sides, who will not depart until they have gained admittance and have seen who are here lodged. Should they find you, they will carry you to the king’s uncles, and you may guess what will be the result. I am satisfied they are so much enraged against the duke of Ireland, and the other advisers of the king, that if once they lay hold of you, you will never escape with life. Consider well what I have said, for it is all true.”

The three knights, who thought they should do wonders, were in despair at what they heard: they held a council, and determined to remain where they were until the morrow, but in so secret a manner that none should know of their arrival. The governor loyally promised to assist them to the utmost of his power, and, in their presence, took possession of all the keys that gave admittance. When day came, the three knights held another council, on their future proceedings; and, having well considered their situation, they were afraid of waiting until it should be known they were in the Tower, for they were convinced they would be shut up in it; so that when it was dark, and the tide flowing, they embarked in a large boat, and left the Tower, without having dared to display the king’s banners. They slept that night at Kensington, and on the morrow, at day-break, mounted their horses and rode by Chertsey to Windsor, where they dined and lay. The next day they arrived at Oxford, where was the duke of Ireland and his army: they told all that had passed, which you have heard; and that, although they were received into the Tower of London, they dared not abide there. The duke was mightily cast down on hearing this, and knew not what to say, nor how to act; for he was already sensible that the force he had assembled were not all of the same way of thinking, nor well affected to his cause: not knowing whether to stay where he was or return to the king, he called a council of his knights. The council determined, that sine the king had appointed him lieutenant-general, to punish all who were in rebellion, he must keep the field; for, should he act otherwise, he would be greatly blamed, incur the indignation of the king, and prove clearly that he did not think the cause just or good; and that it would be better to risk the event, and die with honour, 278 than show any want of courage. He was advised to inform the king of his situation, and to be thankful he was able to keep his ground without any opposition, for none had hitherto advanced to meet him. The duke sent messengers from Oxford to the king. To signify his situation, and to entreat he would send him more men, which he did.

When the dukes of York and Gloucester heard at London, that the duke of Ireland was at Oxford with a powerful army, they called a council to consider how to act. All the chief lords of their party were present such as the archbishop of Canterbury, the earls of Arundel, Salisbury, Northumberland, and many other great barons, with the whole magistracy of London. It was there resolved, (for the duke of Gloucester would have it so,) instantly to prepare and take the field, and that the mayor of London should arm by constablewicks, all such as he might think capable of assisting them; for he declared he would march to meet the duke of Ireland, fight with him wherever he should find him. The mayor of London was himself a soldier, and he only selected his men from those between twenty and forty yeas of age; and the lords above mentioned had at least one thousand men at arms retainers on them. This army marched from London, and lodged at Brentford and the adjoining villages; on the next day at Colebrook, their force increasing all the way. They followed the road to Reading. To gain a passage over the Thames; for the bridges of Staines and Windsor, had, by command of the duke of Ireland, been broken down, by which they had a better and more level country for their march. The duke of Ireland, hearing they were fast approaching Oxford, was much alarmed, and demanded counsel. He was advised to draw up his army in battle array, with the king’s banners displayed in front; and if it pleased God, the day would be his, for he had a good cause. This plan was followed: the trumpets sounded to arm, and march out of Oxford, which was done, and the army drawn up with the king’s banners displayed. The day was delightful, and the weather clear and pleasant.

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*  Richmond.





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CHAPTER LXXXV. — THE KING’S UNCLES GAIN A VICTORY OVER THE DUKE OF IRELAND, WHO SAVES HIMSELF BY FLIGHT WITH OTHERS OF HIS ARMY.

NEWS was brought to the duke of Gloucester, who was encamped in a handsome mead along a river that falls into the Thames, three leagues from Oxford, that the duke of Ireland had taken the field, and had drawn up his force in order of battle. The duke was well pleased with this intelligence, and said he would offer him combat, but they must cross the Thames. The trumpets sounded to dislodge, and the army was formed as if for immediate battle. They were within two leagues of the enemy, lying in ambush, until they could cross the river. The duke of Gloucester sent scouts to have the fords examined, who brought word the river had not, for thirty years, been so low was it then was. The scouts after this easily crossed, and advanced to observe the position and countenance of the enemy.

On their return, they said to the duke, — “My lord, God and the river are for you: it is so low, it does not reach the bellies of our horses. We have seen the army of the duke of Ireland, which is well and handsomely drawn up. We know not if the king be there in person, but his banners are; and we could not perceive any other banner than those of the king, emblazoned with the arms of England and France.” The duke replied, — “God assist us! my brother and self have a right to those arms. Let us advance, in the name of God and St. George; for I will have a nearer look at them.” His men began their march, and in higher spirits, on knowing the river was so easy to be crossed. The horse passed first, and then the main body. When the duke of Ireland was told that the king’s uncles had passed the Thames with their army, and that shortly there must be a battle, he was much frightened; for he well knew, that if he were taken by the duke of Gloucester, he would not accept of any sum for his ransom, but put him instantly to a disgraceful death. He called, therefore, sir Peter Gouloufre and sir Michael de la Pole, and said to them, — “My courage certainly faileth me this day; for I dare not abide the event of a battle with the king’s uncles, who, if they take me, will put me to a shameful death. How the devil could they have crossed the Thames? This is a bad omen for us.” “What do you intend to do?” asked the two 279 knights. “I mean to save myself: do you the same,” added the duke, “and the whole army, if it can.” “Well,” replied the knights, “let us keep on one of the wings, and we shall have two cords to our bow. We shall see how our men behave: if they do well, we will remain, for the honour of the king who has sent us hither: if they be defeated, we can make off, and have the advantage of going whithersoever we like.”

This plan was adopted; and the duke changed his horse for a very active one, as did also the knights. They rode round the army, showing a good countenance, and telling the men to behave well: that they should have the day, if it pleased God and St. George, for they had the right; and the quarrel was the king’s, which was to their advantage. Thus dissembling, they got out of the crowd, and, making for a corner of the army, formed part of a wing. They had scarcely done so, when the dukes of York and Gloucester, and the other lords, were seen advancing, with banners displayed, and trumpets sounding. The king’s army no sooner perceived their array than they were panic-struck, quitted their ranks, and turned their backs; for it was the general report that the duke of Ireland and his friends had fled. All was now in disorder, every one running away for the fastest, without making the smallest defence. The duke and his knights were soon at a distance, for they were not desirous of returning to Oxford.

The duke of Gloucester, on seeing the condition of the king’s army, felt compassion, and would not do the ill he might; for he knew the greater part had been assembled through fear, or by the excitement of the duke of Ireland. He therefore said to his men, — “Sirs, the day is ours; but I forbid, under pain of death, that any of our enemies be slain, unless he make a defence. If you find knights or squires, take them, and bring them to me.” This order was obeyed: few were killed, except in their flight, by riding over or against each other. Sir John, called the Little Beauchamp, and sir John Salisbury, were made prisoners in the pursuit, and brought to the duke of Gloucester, to his great pleasure. The lords marched to Oxford, where they found the ages open; and those who could do so lodged themselves there, though much straitened. When the duke of Gloucester inquired if the duke of Ireland were taken, he was told that he had escaped. The duke remained two days at Oxford, when he gave liberty for the men at arms to return to their homes, after having thanked them for their services. He told the mayor of London and the leaders of the bands, that they might now return to London, which they cheerfully did; and thus this expedition ended.





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CHAPTER LXXXVI. — THE DUKE OF IRELAND, WITH SOME OF HIS COMPANIONS, ESCAPES INTO HOLLAND. — THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY IS SENT BY THE DUKES OF YORK AND GLOUCESTER TO TREAT WITH THE KING. — HE CONDUCTS HIM WITH HONOUR TO LONDON.

I WILL now say what became of the duke of Ireland, sir Peter Gouloufre, and sir Michael de la Pole, on the day on which they had, like their army, saved themselves by flight. In truth, this was wisely done; for, had they been taken, they would have been put to death without mercy. I do not believe they fled to the king at Bristol: if they did, they made no long stay, but hastened out of England as quickly as they could. I heard that they rode through Carlisle to Edinburgh, where they embarked on board a vessel bound for Holland and the Texel, and landed at Dordrecht. They were much rejoiced at thus being in a place of safety; and it was told me, that the duke of Ireland had, for a long time before, made large deposits of money at Bruges, by means of the Lombard, to be prepared for every event; for, though he knew his power over the king of England, he was much afraid of the nobles and the people. During his prosperity he had made very ample provision of money in Flanders and in other places, where he thought he might need it. I heard, also, that the first payment of sixty thousand francs, for the ransom of John of Brittany, was waiting his orders, and the time was nearly elapsed for the receipt of the other sixty thousand francs. He had therefore, provided himself with money for a long times.

When duke Albert of Bavaria, who was regent of Hainault, Holland, and Zealand, for his brother, count William, then alive, was informed that the duke of Ireland had fled from 280 England, and had taken up his residence at Dordrecht, he mused awhile, and thought it improper he should make any long stay there. He had quitted England as a fugitive, and was in the ill-favour of his cousins-german, the dukes of York and Gloucester, to whom he owed love and affection: he had, beside, behaved shamefully to his duchess, who was the daughter of his cousin, the princess Isabella of England. In consequence, he sent to tell the duke, that since he had displeased his fair cousins of England, and had broken his marriage to connect himself with another woman, he must instantly leave his country and seek other quarters; for he would never suffer the duke of Ireland to inhabit any town of his. When he received this order, he was much alarmed lest he should be arrested and given up to his enemies, and humbled himself exceedingly to those who brought the order, saying he would cheerfully obey the duke’s commands. He instantly directed all his accounts to be settled and paid, and embarked on board a vessel, with attendants, for Utrecht, which is a town solely dependent on its bishop, where he arrived and tarried there until other intelligence was brought him. We will now leave him, and return to the affairs of England.

When the army of the barons had been disbanded at Oxford, I know not if the dukes of York and Gloucester, and the archbishop of Canterbury, did not remain there some days longer; during which time the two knights, sir john Salisbury and the little Beauchamp, were beheaded. After this execution they returned to London, where they stayed some time, expecting to hear from the king; but all they learnt was that he continued in Bristol. It was determined in council, at Westminster, through the advice of the archbishop of Canterbury, to send a deputation from the chief barons to the king, to remonstrate with him, in an amicable manner, on his opposition to the principal persons of his kingdom, who were naturally bound to guard his honour, and for having placed his confidence in a set of minions; which conduct had nearly lost him his crown. While this was going forward in the council, sir Nicholas Bramber had been taken in Wales, and brought to London. The king’s uncles were rejoiced at this, and said they should not let him wait long, but that he should suffer a similar death to his friends. Sir Nicholas, unable to offer anything to prevent his execution was led to the usual place, without the town, and there beheaded. He was lamented by some of the citizens, for he had, in former times, been their mayor, and had, during that time, well and honestly governed the city. He had also been of essential service to the king at the time of the peasant’s rebellion, by slaying, with his own hand, Lister; which dismayed the insurgents greatly, and put them to flight; and for this the king had created him a knight. He was beheaded like the others, for having too readily put his faith in the duke of Ireland.

The king’s uncles, seeing that now all those of the king’s council whom they hated were either dead or had quitted the country, thought it time to put the government on a stable footing; for, notwithstanding they had put to death, or banished, all who were obnoxious to them, they never intended to deprive the king of hid crown, but only to reform and regulate his government more to his own and country’s honour. They therefore said to the archbishop of Canterbury, — “You will go with your state to Bristol, where you will find the king, and remonstrate with him on the affairs of his realm, and the condition they are now in: recommend us to him, and say, that we entreat he will not put any belief in what he may hear to our discredit; for he has too long done so, against his own honour and profit, as well as to the hurt of the kingdom. You will likewise say, that we and the good city of London, beg he will return hither, where he will be received with the utmost joy; and we will agree to his having the nomination of his council in any way most agreeable to him. We charge you, however, archbishop, on no account to return without him, for those who are now attached to him will be made discontented. Tell him, also, not to be angered for such traitors as were near his person, who may have been slain or driven out of the kingdom, for by them his crown was in danger of being lost.”

The archbishop promised to accomplish the matter as well as he was able, and, having soon made his preparations, set out for Bristol in grand array, such as became so reverend a prelate, and fixed his lodgings in the town. The king lived very privately, for all those who used to be with him were either dead or banished, as you have heard. The archbishop 281 was one whole day and two nights in the town before the king would see him, so sorely vexed was he with his uncles for having driven away the duke of Ireland, whom he loved above all mankind, and for having put to death his chamberlains and knights. At length, he was so well advised that he admitted the archbishop to his presence. On his entrance, he humbled himself much before the king, and then addressed him warmly on the subjects the dukes of York and Gloucester had charged him with. He gave him to understand, that if he did not return to London, according to the entreaties of his uncles, the citizens of London, and the grater part of his subjects, he would make them very discontented; and he remonstrated, that without the aid of his uncles, barons, prelates, knights, and commons, from the chief towns, eh would be unable to act, or to have an compliance given to his will. This he had been charged to tell him, and likewise that he could not more rejoice his enemies, nor more effectually hurt his country, than by making war on his friends. The young king was inclined to listen to the arguments of the archbishop; but the insult that had been offered him, by beheading those of his council in who he had no fault to find, was too fresh in his memory for him instantly to comply. Many plans were proposed to him: at last, by the good advice of the queen, and of the most prudent of his counsellors, who had remained with him, such as sir Richard Stenor and others, he restrained his choler, and said to the archbishop, that he would cheerfully accompany him to London. My lord of Canterbury was highly pleased on hearing this; and he gained much honour by having brought matters to so happy a conclusion. The king did not remain at Bristol long after this, but leaving there his queen, set out with his retinue towards London, the archbishop accompanying him. On his arrival at Windsor, he stopped three whole days.

When news was brought to London that the archbishop of Canterbury had so far succeeded in his mission, that the king was to return to the city, the whole town was rejoiced; and they determined to go out to meet and conduct him, in the most honourable manner, to his palace. The day on which he left Windsor, the whole road from London to Brentford was covered with people on foot and horseback. The dukes of York and Gloucester, and prince John of York, the earls of Arundel, Salisbury, Northumberland, and many barons and prelates, went, in great state, to conduct the king. They met him within two miles from Brentford, and received him most affectionately, as good subjects should their lord. The king, who had their late proceedings still rankling in his heart, scarcely stopped when he met them, nor cast his eyes towards them. The person he talked the most to on his road was the bishop of London. On their arrival in Westminster, the king dismounted at his palace, which had been prepared for him. He there partook of wine and spices, as did his uncles, the barons, prelates, and knights, who were entitled to the honour. Several of them now took leave, and those who resided in London went home, but the king’s uncles, the archbishop of Canterbury, and the whole of the council, remained to keep him company, to be on better terms together, and to consult on the affairs of the nation, for they had formed their plans, and were lodged, some in the palace, and others in the abbey.





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CHAPTER LXXXVII. — THE KING, BY THE ADVICE OF HIS UNCLES AND COUNCIL, SUMMONS THE NOBILITY AND COMMONERS OF TH REALM TO A PARLIAMENT AT WESTMINSTER, AND TO RENEW THEIR HOMAGE TO HIM.

A SPECIAL parliament being ordered to meet at Westminster, all the barons, prelates, knights, and chief citizens from the principal towns, were summoned to attend, and all who held fiefs from the king. The reason for this parliament being made so general, was, that the archbishop of Canterbury had remonstrated in the council, and to the king’s uncles, that when they had crowned king Richard, though all who held fiefs under him had made their homage, and held their lands accordingly, he was not of a proper age to receive their oaths. A king by right must be twenty-one years of age before he can justly govern the kingdom, and, until that time, should be under the tutelage of his uncles, if he have any, or under those of his subjects the nearest related to him. The archbishop added, that as now the king was of the proper age, he advised, for greater security, all who held any lands 282 under him should renew their homage, and acknowledge him for their lord. This opinion of the archbishop was acceded to by the king’s uncles, and was the cause of so general a summons being sent abroad for all persons to attend this parliament. Every one having obeyed, London and Westminster were much crowded.

On the day appointed, the king heard mass royally clothed, with the crown on his head, in the chapel of the palace*, which is very handsome and richly decorated. The archbishop of Canterbury said mass, and performed divine service. He was attentively heard, for he was an excellent preacher. When the service was over, the king’s uncles kissed him, in sign of homage, and swore faith and duty to him for ever. Then came the barons, prelates, and all who held anything under him, and with joined hands, as was becoming vassals, swore faith an loyalty, and kissed him on the mouth. It was visible that the king kissed some heartily, others not; for, though he checked himself as much as possible, all were not in his good graces; but he dissembled, for he wished not to act contrary to his uncles. If he had possessed the power, he would not have behaved thus, but have wreaked a cruel revenge on those who had, as he thought, so undeservedly put to death sir Simon Burley and his other knights.

The archbishop of York was summoned by the council to attend to do his homage, and purge himself from the things that had been laid to his charge; for he had always been a partisan of the duke of Ireland, and in opposition to the king’s uncles. When he received this summons, knowing he was not beloved by the dukes of York or Gloucester, he was fearful of the event, and therefore sent his nephew, the son of lord Neville, to make his excuses. He instantly set out for London, and, on his arrival waited on the king first, to whom he made excuses for his uncle, and performed, as proxy, the homage of the archbishop. The king received his excuses for his uncle, for he loved this archbishop more than that of Canterbury, and bore him out before the council, otherwise he would have been heavily fined: through attention to the king the council admitted his excuses, and he was suffered to remain in his diocese. For a long time, however, he was afraid to reside at York, but lived at Newcastle on Tyne, near the castles of his brother Neville and cousins. Thus were affairs in England; but the king had not for some time the command of his council, which was under the control of his uncles, and the barons and prelates before named. We will now return to what was going forward in Castille and Portugal.

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*  This chapel was afterwards converted into the house of commons, and continued to be used as such till its destruction by fire in 1834. When it was enlarged for the admission of the members from Ireland on the union, many of the paintings and other ornaments were discovered, and have been engraven and published.





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CHAPTER LXXXVIII. — THE KING OF PORTUGAL AND DUKE OF LANCASTER UNITE THEIR FORCES. — WHEN DISTRESSED TO CROSS THE RIVER DUERO, A GALICIAN SQUIRE, PRISONER OF WAR, DIRECTS THEM TO A FORD.

IT is right, since the matter requires it, that I now say something of the expedition of the duke of Lancaster, and how he persevered in it this season in Galicia. I will continue it from where I left off, as I have a great desire to complete its history.

When the duke and his army had conquered the town and castle of Orense, they halted there four days to refresh themselves, as there were plenty or provisions. On the fifth day, they departed, taking the road to Noya. They quartered themselves, for four days, in a large meadow along the river-side; but the ground was already burnt up by the great heat of the sun, and the water was so bad that the horses would scarcely drink it: many that did so died. Orders were given to dislodge and return to Orense: for the marshals, sir Thomas Moreaux and sir Richard Burley, had declared the castle of Noya to be impregnable but by a long siege, with great expense of money, and many assaults. The duke of Lancaster, likewise, when there, received intelligence of the approach of the king of Portugal and his army, consisting of three thousand spears and ten thousand serviceable men: so that when the two armies should be united, something essential might be done; for the duke had with him fifteen hundred knights and squires, and six thousand archers. This intelligence greatly 283 pleased the duke; he decamped from before Noya, where he had done nothing, and returned to Orense. He sent for his duchess and ladies, declaring he would there wait the arrival of the king of Portugal.

The king of Portugal and his marshals, having taken possession of Ferrol, marched for Orense to meet the duke of Lancaster. On their road, they came to Ville-de-Padron, which at first showed symptoms of rebellion, but, when the army appeared, they submitted. The king and his army remained in the town and adjoining country fifteen days, and greatly wasted its provisions, notwithstanding a sufficiency came to them from Portugal. Galicia was ruined by these two armies; and the weather was now become so exceedingly hot, that none could venture abroad, after eight o’clock in the morning, without risk of death. While the duke and duchess of Lancaster remained in Orense, their men and horses were suffering greatly for want of forage and water: there were neither fresh grass nor green food, for the ground was too parched for any seeds to spring. The whole country was burnt up; and the English were forced to send their foragers twelve, sixteen, nay twenty leagues, for food for themselves and horses. Consider what their difficulties must have been. The knights and squires of England found the wines so strong and ardent, that they affected their heads, stomachs, and bowels, and they had not any remedy; for there was a great scarcity of good water to temper them with, or to cool them. Their food was contrary to what they had always been accustomed to; for in their own country they live at their ease, whilst now they were burnt with external and internal heat. The greatest lords were in the utmost poverty and distress; and such effects as were natural, followed, which I shall relate to you.

The English knights and squires, seeing their difficulties increase, from the scarcity of forage and the extreme heat of the weather, began to murmur and say, “Our expedition seems drawing to a poor end; for we remain too long in one place.” “That is true,” replied others; “and we have another thing much against us; we have brought women, who only wish to remain quiet; and for one day that they are inclined to travel, they will repose fifteen. It is this which has checked us, and will be our destruction; for if, on our landing at Coruña, we had advanced into the country, we should have succeeded in putting it under our obedience, for none would have dared to oppose us; but these long residences have encouraged our enemies, who have strengthened their strong places, and reinforced their towns and castles with men-at-arms from France; and have also posted them in the narrow passes, and along the rivers, to guard and defend them. They will defeat us without a battle; for they know it would be more to their advantage to decline it. This kingdom of Castille is not so pleasant a country to make war in as France, where there are plenty of large villages, a fair country, fine rivers, ponds, rich pastures, and agreeable and substantial wines for men-at-arms to refresh themselves with, and a sun and climate finely temperate; but here every thing is the reverse.” “What the deuce,” said others, “what business had the duke to bring his wife and daughters with him, since he came hither for conquest? It was quite unreasonable, for they have been a great hindrance to him. It is well known throughout all Castille, that he and his brother are the lawful heirs of the crown, in right of their wives, who were daughters of don Pedro; but, with regard to the conquest or the surrender of any towns, ladies can do but little.” This was the language held in different parts of the English army, by many knights and squires when among themselves. They were much rejoiced on learning that the king of Portugal was near at hand; and when he was within two miles of the town, the duke of Lancaster and his knights mounted their horses, and went forth to meet him. There was much apparent joy, and the king and the duke, as well as the English and Portuguese knights, testified great pleasure at meeting. The army of Portugal was behind, under the command of six great barons of that country, namely, Ponasse (Susan note-Spelling) d’Acunha, Vasco Martin de Merlo, the Posdich Dosnedegousse, Salvase de Merlo, sir Alleyne Pereira, marshal, and Joao Rodriguez de Sâ. Several barons were with the king, whose escort was but three hundred spears. On their arrival at Orense, the king was lodged becoming his state, and much at his ease, and the place was full of horses. The king, duke, and lords, were five days in council, and determined to make an excursion, with the united armies, towards Medina del Camp and Vilalpando, where sir Oliver du Guesclin, constable of Castille, and the largest garrison of Frenchmen, were stationed. They were 283 puzzled how to cross the Duero, which at times is dangerous, and more so in the summer, from the melting of the snows on the mountains than in the winter, when it is frozen, like all other small streams. Notwithstanding this difficulty, they resolved to march for Campo, in the hopes of finding a ford; and orders were issued to the armies to this effect. They were well pleased to receive them, for hey had suffered very severely at Orense, and in those parts; and many had been carried off by sickness.

The king of Portugal and the duke of Lancaster left Orense together; but their armies were separated, because they were not acquainted, nor understood each other’s language, and likewise to prevent any disputes or riots that might fall out between them; for the Portuguese are passionate, overbearing, and not easily pacified, and the English are spiteful and proud. The constables and marshal of each army, when they sent out parties to forage, ordered them to take separate routs. These armies, which were sufficient to combat what force the king of Castille and his allies could bring to the field, continued their march until they came to the Duero. This was not easy to pass; for it is steep, with high banks, and full of broken rocks, except at certain bridges, which had either been destroyed, or so strongly fortified and guarded, it was not possible to attempt them with hopes of success. While they were considering how they could cross it, it chanced that sir John Holland, the constable, sir Thomas Moreaux and sir Richard Burley, the marshals, or their foragers, during an excursion, fell in with a squire of Galicia, called Domingo Vargas, who was riding through the country, having passed the river: he knew that all the bridges were broken down, but he was acquainted with a ford that could easily be passed on horseback or on foot; and when he saw the enemy, he had turned back, and was riding for this ford. He was made prisoner, and brought to these lords, who examined him as to a ford; and the constable told him, that if he would show them a safe one, for he had heard there were such, he would not only give him his liberty, but make him a handsome present beside. The squire was not well advised, and too eager to gain his liberty and the constable’s gift; he therefore said, that he would show them a place where the whole army might cross in safety. The constable and marshals were so joyful on hearing this, that they sent to acquaint the duke with the good news. The armies followed the vanguard of the constable, which had arrived at the ford. The squire entered the river as their guide; and when they saw there was not any danger, all passed n the best manner they could.

The van, having crossed, halted on the bank to guide the main army over. Sir John Holland kept his promise with eh Galician squire, by giving him his liberty and a present; and he instantly set off for Medina del Campo, where the king of Castille then was. It is a handsome and strong city in that country. The duke of Lancaster and the king of Portugal rode in company, and came to this ford, which is called Place-ferrade, where the gravel is sound and firm. They crossed without difficulty, as did their armies; the rear division crossed on the morrow, and they all encamped themselves on its banks. News was soon carried to Roales Castroreris, Medina del Campo, Vilalpando, Saliagan, and to the other towns and castles in Castille, that the English has passed the Duero, having discovered a ford. They were much surprised, and said they must have been shown it through treachery; for, if it had not been made known by some of the natives, they would never had found it out. There is nothing but what sooner or later is discovered, by servants or otherwise. The lords attached to the king of Castille learnt that Domingo Vargas had pointed out to them this for; he was instantly arrested, and having acknowledged what he had done, was condemned to death. He was carried to Vilalpando, and there beheaded.



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CHAPTER LXXXIX. — SIR WALTER DE PASSAC AND SIR WILLIAM DE LIGNAC ADVISE THE KING OF CASTILLE NOT TO RISK A BATTLE BEFORE THE ARRIVAL OF THE DUKE OF BOURBON. — A PARTY OF THE ENGLISH SKIRMISH WITH THE GARRISON OF VILALPANDO. — THE DUKE OF LANCASTER IS DISPIRITED BY HIS OWN ILL HEALTH AND THE GREAT SICKNESS OF HIS ARMY.

THE king of Castille, on hearing that the king of Portugal and the duke of Lancaster were fast approaching with so great a force, was much alarmed, and sent for sir Walter de Passac and sir William de Lignac, to whom he said, — “I am exceedingly surprised that the duke of Bourbon is not arrived. Our enemies have taken the field, and, if no one oppose them, will destroy my whole country. My subjects are very discontented that we do not offer them combat. Tell me, my fair sirs, how I had best act.” These two lords, who, from great experience, knew more of arms than the king, and for this had they been sent from France to Castille, replied, — “Sir king, depend upon it, the duke of Bourbon will come. On his arrival, we will consider what is to be done; but, until then, do not make any preparations to meet your enemies. Let them make what excursions they please: they keep the field, and we the towns and castles, which are well provided with everything, and garrisoned by good men at arms. They are suffering from the heat of the sun and weather, while we enjoy the shade and refreshing breezes. They have found the country wasted, and the further they advance they will have so much the greater scarcity of forage. It was for the chance of their entering your country, that all the small forts have been demolished, wherein the farmers intended placing their wealth. This was, sir king, wisely done; for they would by their means have been enabled to keep possession of those parts where they now are; but at present they can find nothing but what they have brought with them, except the great heat of a burning sun, which you may be assured must soon destroy them. Though all your towns and castles are well provided and garrisoned, we can believe that some may be attacked and won, for that is the delight of men at arms. In such way they love to pass their time, and for this do they seek adventures through the world. Do not, therefore, be any way cast down; for in this business, we engage, you shall not suffer any great loss.” This speech greatly comforted the king of Castille, and he was well pleased with them, for he felt that what they had said was truth.

We will return to the duke of Lancaster and the king of Portugal, who, though they kept the field, would have willingly gained some town to refresh themselves; for the foragers could not find anything, and were forced to untie in large bodies for fear of ambuscades. They were so hard pressed, that when, in their excursions, they saw at a distance a large village, they were rejoiced, and cried out, “Come quick: let us hasten to that village, where we shall find enough to forage and enrich ourselves.” They hastened their march; but when they arrived, they found only the bare walls; there were neither inhabitants, nor even a dog, nor fowl, so completely had the French ruined this part of the country. They thus lost their time and expectations, and returned to their lords empty-handed. Their horses were in sorry condition from the want of proper food, and they were fortunate whenever they could meet with any green pastures. Some were so feeble they could not advance, and dropt dead on the road, through famine and heat. Their masters were not in a much better condition, from fevers caused by the oppressive heat in the day, and the chill of the nights, without having anything proper to refresh or recover themselves. Thus was it in the duke’s army; for the English have a weaker constitution than the Portuguese, who bore all these difficulties without hurt, being hardy and accustomed to the climate of Castille. In this melancholy state were the English: many died of their disorders, more especially such as were not well attended, and had not wherewithal to provide proper remedies.

Sir Richard Burley, sir Thomas Percy, the lord Fitzwalter, sir Maubrun de Linieres, sir John d’Ambreticourt, Thierry and William de Soumain, with two hundred lances of such as were desirous to seek renown, mounted the best horses in the army, with the intent to surprise the French garrison in Vilalpando. They had heard that sir Oliver du Guesclin, constable of Castille, had with him there, in garrison, some of the ablest knights of France. 286 They left the army one morning, after drinking a cup, equipped like foragers, and came to a small brook that runs below Vilalpando, which they crossed by spurring their horses over it. The alarm was soon spread through the town, that the English were at the barriers. You would have seen, had you been there when this was known, knights arming themselves hastily, and advancing towards the lodgings of the constable, servants saddling horses and hurrying with them to their masters. Sir Oliver du Guesclin would have restrained his companions from sallying forth to meet the English, had he been able; but their courage was too impetuous, so out they sallied, gallantly mounted on horses that had been inactive and well fed. Among the first were, sir John des Barres, the viscount de Besliere, sir Robert and sir John de Braquemont, sir Peter de Villaines, sir Tristan de la Jaille.

When the English had made their course before the town, they repassed the brook in the same manner as before, and retreated to a large sand bank, when they drew up in handsome array, about three bow-shots distant from the brook. The French knights advanced, shouting their cries, with their spears in their rests; and, when near, the English being prepared, stuck spurs into their horses to meet them. The shock was very great; and several of each side were unhorsed on the sand. This would not have ended so speedily, and other weapons would have been resorted to when the lances failed; but the dust, from the movements of the horses, was so great and disagreeable, they could not know each other; their horses were covered with dust as well as themselves; and it was in such clouds that they could not breathe without swallowing large mouthfuls. This caused the attack to cease, and the French and English to withdraw from the combat: the first returned to Vilalpando. There was not any one slain, nor much hurt, on either side. The English knights went not more than one league beyond Vilalpando before they returned to their army, when they disarmed themselves; for they were seized with fevers and other disorders, which brought them to death’s door.

The duke of Lancaster was greatly dispirited, and knew not how to act; for he saw his army daily wasting away, and was grieved to find that the greater and better part were confined to their beds. He himself was so unwell, that if he had not been afraid to dishearten his men, he would gladly have kept his chamber. He addressed himself to the king of Portugal, and desired him to say what, in the present circumstances, should be done; for he was much alarmed at this mortality in this army. The king replied; “That, from appearances, it did not seem probable that the Castillians would offer them combat at this season; for they showed more inclination that they should waste themselves and their provisions.” “How then would you advise me to act?” asked the duke. “I will tell you,” answered the king: “As the weather is now so exceedingly hot, I would advise that you march your army into Galicia, and give your men permission to recruit themselves wherever they please; but to return prepared to recommence the campaign in March or Aril. Endeavour to procure large reinforcements from England, under the command of one of your brothers, and provision in plenty for the winter season. A kingdom is not soon conquered, nor a climate instantly rendered agreeable to the constitutions of strangers. Your army will be quartered in the different towns now under your obedience, and will pass their times as well as they can.”

“This may be right,” said he duke; “but the consequences will be, that as soon as our enemies shall know we have separated, and are acquainted that you are retired to Portugal with your army, and I with mine to San Jago or Coruña, they will take the field; for I have heard that the king of Castille has four thousand lances, French and Bretons, and he will collect as many, or more, in his own country. Add to this, that the duke of Bourbon is on his march with two thousand men at arms, and will be eager to signalize himself on his arrival. Now consider, should all this force enter Galician, what is there to oppose it? Before we can collect our men and form a junction, they will have done us considerable damage.” “Well, then,” replied the king of Portugal, “In the name of God, let us keep the field; my men are fresh and unhurt, and equally willing with myself to abide the event.” The conference now broke up, and it was resolved they would wait the arrival of the duke of Bourbon, to see if, when he had joined the Castillians, they would offer them battle. The English and Portuguese desired nothing more eagerly; for the season was passing, and the heat increasing: it was about St. John’s day, when the sun is at its height, and intolerably 287 hot, especially in Castille, Granada, and countries far to the south. There had not fallen any rain or dew since the beginning of April, so that the whole country was burnt up. The English ate plentifully of grapes wherever they found them; and, to quench their thirst, drank of the strong wines of Castille and Portugal: but the more they drank the more they were heated; for this new beverage inflamed their livers, lungs, and bowels, and was in its effect totally different for their usual liquors. The English, when at home, feed on fresh meats and good rich ale, which is a diet to keep their bodies wholesome; but now they were forced to drink hard and hot wines, of which they were not sparing, to drown their cares. The early part of the night is warm, from the great heat of the day, but, toward sun-rise, it is very cold, which afflicted them sorely; for they slept without covering, and quite naked, from the heat of the weather, and the wine, so that when morning came they were chilled by the change of air, which checked all perspiration, and flung them into fevers and fluxes, so as to carry them off instantly to their graves. Thus died very many of the barons and knights, as well as of the lower ranks; for these disorders spared none.







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