vigorously that more than five hundred Englishmen lost their lives.
On hearing of the havoc that had been wrought among his soldiers, King Edward was highly exasperated; and, in his wrath, he thought of vengeance.
"On my faith," exclaimed he, "I am strongly inclined to put the inhabitants to the sword, and burn the town!"
Harcourt, however, interposed, and appeased the king's wrath.
"Sire," said he, "assuage somewhat of your anger, and be satisfied with what has already been done. You have a long journey to make, and there are in this town thousands of men who will defend themselves obstinately. It would cost you many lives, and put a stop to your expedition, without redounding to your honour. Philip de Valois is certain to come to give you battle, and you will have more than full employment for all your men."
"Sir Godfrey," replied the king, "you are marshal; therefore order as you please. For this time we will not interfere."
Delighted at the king's answer, Harcourt mounted his horse, ordered his banner to be displayed, rode through the town, and commanded that none of the English should, on pain of death, hurt any man or woman in Caen. This prevented slaughter; but many prisoners were taken, and the Constable of France and the Count of Tancarville were among the number.
At Caen the king and his army remained for three days; and the English, having made themselves masters of the place, did not fail to make free with what it contained. After the marshal's proclamation, which assured the inhabitants that their lives were safe, was understood, all fear on their part seemed to vanish. Many of them received the invaders into their houses as guests, and others freely opened their coffers, and parted with their gold in consideration of being protected.
Finding themselves masters, on such terms, of a town larger than any in England, except London, full of noble dames, and damsels, and rich citizens, and stocked with draperies, merchandise, wines, and all manner of good things, the English indulged, without stint, their appetite for pleasure and plunder; and many of them amassed great wealth, which was sent, in barges, down the river to Estreham, to be conveyed to St. Sauveur, where lay the fleet, ready to convey the spoil and the prisoners to England.
CHAPTER XII
A SNARE
It is not unnatural that, when relating what the king said, and what his marshals did, and how his army moved, I should be in some danger of losing sight of my own figure, and even forgetting, in some degree, my own existence. However, I would not, by any means, have the reader conclude that, because silent as to my achievements, I, Arthur Winram, was wholly idle during the march of the English from La Hogue to Caen, or an idle spectator of the events that rendered that expedition memorable.
In fact, young, new to life, ardent and eager to appear a man, I entered with enthusiasm into the spirit of the enterprise. Far be it from me to sing my own praises; but, being in constant activity, I met with exploits of which I venture to say no warrior of my age could with justice boast. At Caen I was among the first who entered the gates, and barely escaped atoning for my audacity by being stoned to death in the narrow streets; and afterwards gained some experience, and a significant warning to be on my guard, during a mysterious adventure, which involved me in such danger that I well-nigh gave myself up for lost.
I have already mentioned that, after the king had consented to spare the place, Godfrey de Harcourt rode through the streets with his banner displayed, and commanded that no Englishman should, on pain of death, injure an inhabitant, male or female, and that the proclamation led to the army mingling with the citizens. I was rather too young to profit much by the hospitality or the wealth of the men and women of Caen; but I was not insensible to the wild kind of freedom in which the invaders indulged, and did not fail, like my neighbours, to assume the air of a conqueror, and to roam about the city as if I had been lord of all I beheld.
It happened that, on the second day of the king's residence in Caen, I was examining, not without interest, the monastery of St. Stephen, in which repose the ashes of William the Norman, when I felt my shoulder slightly touched, and, turning quickly round, found beside me a man with a beetle brow, who, in answer to my question as to his business with me, intimated that he could not speak my language, but placed a missive in my hand.
Drawing back to guard against surprise – for his appearance was the reverse of prepossessing – I read the document with breathless amazement.
"If the English page, calling himself Arthur Winram" – so ran the words – "will, at nightfall, meet the bearer of this on the spot on which he receives it, he will be conducted to the presence of one who will clear away the mystery that hangs over his birth, and reveal the story of his parentage."
I trembled with excitement as these words met my eye, and did not, for an instant, hesitate about venturing on an interview. Having explained to the messenger, in as good French as I was master of, that I should meet him at the time appointed, I hurried back to the prince's quarters, and passed the remainder of the day in vague surmises. I confess that sometimes I suspected a snare; but, considering my position, believing that no one could be interested in harming me, I dismissed my doubts as they rose, and asked, with a smile of contempt, whether, in pursuit of the information for which, from childhood, I had earnestly longed, I, vowed as I was to face all dangers in quest of fame and fortune, would shrink from a hazard which could not be great, and which probably was imaginary.
Such being the view which I took of the adventure to which I was invited, I awaited in a restless mood the hour for going forth to hear the secret by which, I could not doubt, my destiny, in some measure, hung. At length, the sun having set, I prepared to be gone; and arraying myself, without any weapon save a small dagger, which, having sheathed, I placed in my bosom to be ready to my hand in case of need, I walked forth with the feelings natural to a man about to solve a mysterious question that has for years baffled his intelligence, and preyed on his imagination.
Making my way through streets filled with warriors flushed with wine, I bent my steps to the monastery of St. Stephen, and there I found, true to his time and appointment, the man with the beetle brow. Without speaking, he made a sign for me to follow; and I, having by this time cast the last remnant of hesitation to the winds, accepted his guidance, and walked on, under the influence of a curiosity which silenced the last whispers of prudence.
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
