Read Online I Serve by Rosanne E. Lortz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rosanne E. Lortz
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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it not that the governance of England must be discussed and debated in the tongue of our enemy.
With my tongue trained in courtesy and cant, I was ready to exercise the rest of my body in arms. Sir John allowed me to join the ranks of his squires. The practice yards were my new schoolroom, and I learned the sword, the axe, the mace, the halberd, and the lance. At times, Sir John sparred with me himself, but for the most part my matches were with fellow squires under the supervision of a grizzled, old master-at-arms. I came into my strength early and was broader by a span than the rest of the squires my age. By the time that Edward assembled his invasion force, I had become squire of the body to Sir John Chandos. Someday, I hoped to receive the accolade, but I had never dared hope that it would come from the hand of the prince.
THE IMPREGNABLE FORTRESS
SEPTEMBER – DECEMBER, 1346
4
The Sunday following Crecy’s battle we spent in reckoning up the dead. The day after that we spent in burying them. The count of the dead was prodigiously in our favor; for every twenty Frenchmen, there was only one English corpse. The king congratulated the prince on the victory and commended him on the choice of his new crest. “A fitting motto,” said the king, “for you have served me well this day.”
The prince accepted the praise calmly, but I saw that he was remarkably free from elation. I questioned him about this later when we retired to our tents. “Highness,” said I diffidently, still overawed by my new position of familiarity with the prince, “How comes it that you are not more glad of this victory?”
He trained his dark eyes on me. “I am as glad as any Englishman,” he replied.
“ But why not gladder,” asked I, “since you had the command of such a victorious enterprise?”
“ The command?” he asked arching an eyebrow in disbelief. “Who picked our battle ground?” said he. “Who composed our divisions? Who devised our formation and defenses? Who sent and withheld reinforcements when the battle was finally joined?”
“ The king,” said I slowly. I realized now how little the prince had to do with the direction of the battle.
“ And therefore I am as glad as any Englishman,” said the prince simply. He snuffed out the candles and retired to his bed, less happy in commanding a victory that would astonish Europe than I in my newfound belt and spurs.
In my service to my new master, I still had frequent opportunity for conversation with my old master; Sir Chandos was never far from the prince’s person. “God be praised, boy,” said Chandos kindly. “You’ve earned the accolade younger than I.” His graying beard wagged as he reminisced about the winning of his spurs.
“ It was not such a glorious time for England in those days,” said the grizzled knight. The Scots had beaten us at Bannockburn and declared their independence. And while Isabella and Mortimer were conniving to take the throne, they swept over our border and laid waste to the North. The Bruce and his highland robbers took full advantage of our weakness. Our king was imprisoned—or dead—no one knew which. Young Edward had been given the crown, but it was Mortimer who gave all the commands. The English captains did not trust him, and we could not hold the line against the Scots. The Bruce forced England to fall to her knees and come to most humiliating terms. Mortimer handed young Edward the pen, and he signed away his rights to the crown of Scotland. That was at Northampton. And it was in such a time, at that ignominious treaty, that I received the accolade.”
“ But you, boy,” continued Chandos, “you’ve come into your knighthood when England blooms her brightest. Children yet unborn shall talk about the feats done at Crecy’s battle by the Prince of Wales and his doughty band. And to be knighted by the prince himself—methinks you were born under a lucky star.”
“ The prince
With my tongue trained in courtesy and cant, I was ready to exercise the rest of my body in arms. Sir John allowed me to join the ranks of his squires. The practice yards were my new schoolroom, and I learned the sword, the axe, the mace, the halberd, and the lance. At times, Sir John sparred with me himself, but for the most part my matches were with fellow squires under the supervision of a grizzled, old master-at-arms. I came into my strength early and was broader by a span than the rest of the squires my age. By the time that Edward assembled his invasion force, I had become squire of the body to Sir John Chandos. Someday, I hoped to receive the accolade, but I had never dared hope that it would come from the hand of the prince.
THE IMPREGNABLE FORTRESS
SEPTEMBER – DECEMBER, 1346
4
The Sunday following Crecy’s battle we spent in reckoning up the dead. The day after that we spent in burying them. The count of the dead was prodigiously in our favor; for every twenty Frenchmen, there was only one English corpse. The king congratulated the prince on the victory and commended him on the choice of his new crest. “A fitting motto,” said the king, “for you have served me well this day.”
The prince accepted the praise calmly, but I saw that he was remarkably free from elation. I questioned him about this later when we retired to our tents. “Highness,” said I diffidently, still overawed by my new position of familiarity with the prince, “How comes it that you are not more glad of this victory?”
He trained his dark eyes on me. “I am as glad as any Englishman,” he replied.
“ But why not gladder,” asked I, “since you had the command of such a victorious enterprise?”
“ The command?” he asked arching an eyebrow in disbelief. “Who picked our battle ground?” said he. “Who composed our divisions? Who devised our formation and defenses? Who sent and withheld reinforcements when the battle was finally joined?”
“ The king,” said I slowly. I realized now how little the prince had to do with the direction of the battle.
“ And therefore I am as glad as any Englishman,” said the prince simply. He snuffed out the candles and retired to his bed, less happy in commanding a victory that would astonish Europe than I in my newfound belt and spurs.
In my service to my new master, I still had frequent opportunity for conversation with my old master; Sir Chandos was never far from the prince’s person. “God be praised, boy,” said Chandos kindly. “You’ve earned the accolade younger than I.” His graying beard wagged as he reminisced about the winning of his spurs.
“ It was not such a glorious time for England in those days,” said the grizzled knight. The Scots had beaten us at Bannockburn and declared their independence. And while Isabella and Mortimer were conniving to take the throne, they swept over our border and laid waste to the North. The Bruce and his highland robbers took full advantage of our weakness. Our king was imprisoned—or dead—no one knew which. Young Edward had been given the crown, but it was Mortimer who gave all the commands. The English captains did not trust him, and we could not hold the line against the Scots. The Bruce forced England to fall to her knees and come to most humiliating terms. Mortimer handed young Edward the pen, and he signed away his rights to the crown of Scotland. That was at Northampton. And it was in such a time, at that ignominious treaty, that I received the accolade.”
“ But you, boy,” continued Chandos, “you’ve come into your knighthood when England blooms her brightest. Children yet unborn shall talk about the feats done at Crecy’s battle by the Prince of Wales and his doughty band. And to be knighted by the prince himself—methinks you were born under a lucky star.”
“ The prince
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