For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Third Part of Henry VI.
The Governor of La Ferette stood on the battlements of the eastern entrance-tower of his fortress, and looked out on the road to Bale, when first the vanguard of the Swiss mission, then the centre and rear, appeared in the distance. At the same moment the van halting, the main body closed with it, while the females and baggage, and mules in the rear, moved in their turn up to the main body, and the whole were united in one group.
A messenger then stepped forth, and winded one of those tremendous horns, the spoils of the wild bulls, so numerous in the Canton of Uri, that they are supposed to have given rise to its name.
“They demand admittance,” said the esquire.
“They shall have it,” answered Sir Archibald de Hagenbach. “Marry, how they may pass out again, is another and a deeper question.”
“Think yet a moment, noble sir,” continued the esquire. “Bethink you, these Switzers are very fiends in fight, and have, besides, no booty to repay the conquest — some paltry chains of good copper, perchance, or adulterated silver. You have knocked out the marrow — do not damage your teeth by trying to grind tile bone.”
“Thou art a fool, Kilian,” answered De Hagenbach, “and it may be a coward besides. The approach of some score, or at most some score and a half of Swiss partisans, makes thee draw in thy horns like a snail at a child’s finger! Mine are strong and inflexible as those of the Urus, of whom they talk so much, and on which they blow so boldly. Keep in mind, thou timid creature, that if the Swiss Deputies, as they presume to call themselves, are permitted to pass free, they carry to the Duke stories of merchants bound to his court, and fraught with precious commodities, specially addressed to his Grace! Charles has then at once to endure the presence of the ambassadors, whom he contemns and hates, and learns by them that the Governor of La Ferette, permitting such to pass, has nevertheless presumed to stop those whom he would full gladly see; for what prince would not blithely welcome such a casket as that which we have taken from yonder strolling English pedler?”
“I see not how the assault on these ambassadors will mend your excellency’s plea for despoiling the Englishmen,” said Kilian.
“Because thou art a blind mole, Kilian,” answered his chief. “If Burgundy hears of a ruffle between my garrison and the mountain churls, whom he scorns and yet hates, it will drown all notice of the two pedlers who have perished in the fray. If after an inquiry should come, an hour’s ride transports me with my confidants into the Imperial dominions, where, though the Emperor be a spiritless fool, the rich prize I have found on these islanders will ensure me a good reception.”
“I will stick by your excellency to the last,” returned the esquire; “and you shall yourself witness, that if a fool, I am at least no coward.”
“I never thought thee such when it came to hard blows,” said De Hagenbach; “but in policy thou art timid and irresolute. Hand me mine armor, Kilian, and beware thou brace it well. The Swiss pikes and swords are no wasp-stings.”
“May your excellency wear it with honor and profit,” said Kilian; and, according to the duty of his office, he buckled upon his principal the complete panoply of a knight of the empire. “Your purpose of assaulting the Swiss then holds firm? said Kilian. “But what pretext will your excellency assign?”
“Let me alone,” said Archibald de Hagenbach, “to take one, or to make one. Do you only have Schonfeldt and the soldiers on their stations. And remember the words are — ‘ Burgundy to the Rescue.’ When these words are first spoken, let the soldiers show themselves — when repeated, let them fall on. And now that I am accoutred, away to the churls and admit them.”
Kilian bowed, and withdrew.
The bugle of the Switzers had repeatedly emitted its angry roar, exasperated by the delay of nearly half-an-hour, without an answer from the guarded gate of Breisach; and every blast declared, by the prolonged echoes which it awakened, the in creased impatience of those who summoned the town. At length the portcullis arose, the gate opened, the drawbridge fell, and Kilian, in the equipage of a man-at-arms arrayed for fight, rode forth on an ambling palfrey.
“What bold men are ye, sirs, who are here in arms before the fortress of Breisach, appertaining in right and seignorie to the thrice noble Duke of Burgundy and Lorraine, and garrisoned for his cause and interest by the excellent Sir Archibald, Lord of Hagenbach, Knight of the most Holy Roman Empire?”
“So please you, Sir Esquire,” said the Landamman, “for such I conjecture you to be by the feather in your bonnet, we are here with no hostile intentions though armed, as you see, t6 defend us in a perilous journey, where we are something unsafe by day, and cannot always repose by night in places of security. But our arms have no offensive purpose; if they had such, our numbers had not been so few as you see them.”
“What then is your character and purpose?” said Kilian, who had learned to use, in his master’s absence, the lordly and insolent tone of the Governor himself.
“We are Delegates,” answered the Landamman, in a calm and even tone of voice, without appearing to take offence at, or to observe, the insolent demeanor of the esquire, “from the Free and Confederated Cantons of the Swiss States and provinces, and from the good town of Soleure, who are accredited from our Diet of Legislature to travel to the presence of his Grace the Duke of Burgundy, on an errand of high importance to both countries, and with a hope of establishing with your master’s lord — I mean with the noble Duke of Burgundy — a sure and steadfast peace, upon such terms as shall be to the mutual honor and advantage of both countries, and to avert disputes, and the effusion of Christian blood, which may otherwise be shed for want of timely and good understanding.”
“Show me your letters of credence,” said the esquire.
“Under your forgiveness, Sir Esquire,” replied the Landamman, “it will be time enough to exhibit these when we are admitted to the presence of your master the Governor.
“That is as much as to say, wilful will to it. It is well, my masters; and yet you may take this advice from Kilian of Kersberg. It is sometimes better to reel backwards than to run forwards. — My master, and my master’s master, are more ticklish persons than the dealers of Bale, to whom you bell your cheeses. Home, honest men, home! your way lies before. you, and you are fairly warned.”
“We thank thee for thy counsel,” said the Landamman, interrupting the Banneret of Berne, who had commenced an angry reply — “surprizing it kindly meant; if not, an uncivil jest is like an overcharged gun, which recoils on the cannonier. Our road lies onward through Breisach, and onward we propose to go, and take such hap as that which we may find before us.”
“Go onward then, in the devil’s name,” said the squire, who had entertained some hope of deterring them from pursuing their journey, but found himself effectually foiled.
The Switzers entered the town, and stopped by the barricade of cars which the Governor had formed across the street, at about twenty yards from the gate, they drew themselves up in military order, with their little body formed into three lines, the two females and the fathers of the deputation being in the centre. The little phalanx presented a double front, one to each side of the street, while the centre line faced so as to move forward, and only waited for the removal of the barricade in order to do so. But while they stood thus inactive, a knight in complete armor appeared from a side door of the great tower, under the arch of which they had entered into the town. His visor was raised, and he walked along the front of the little line formed by the Swiss, with a stern and frowning aspect.
“Who are you,” he said, “who have thus far intruded yourselves in arms into a Burgundian garrison?”
“With your excellency’s leave,” said the Landamman, “we are men who come on a peaceful errand, though we carry arms for our own defence. Deputies we are from the towns of Berne and Soleure, the Cantons of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwalden, come to adjust matters of importance with the gracious Duke of Burgundy and Lorraine.”
“What towns, what cantons?” said the Governor of La Ferette. “I have heard no such names among the Free Cities of Germany. — Berne, truly! when became Berne a Free State?”
“Since the twenty-first day of June,” said Arnold Biederman, “in the year of grace one thousand three hundred and thirty-nine, on which day the battle of Laupen was fought.”
“Away, vain old man,” said the Knight “thinkest thou that such idle boasts can avail thee here? We have heard, indeed, of some insurgent villages and communities among the Alps, and how they rebelled against the Emperor, and by the advantage of fastnesses, ambuscades, and lurking-places, how they have murdered some knights and gentlemen sent against them by the Duke of Austria; but we little thought that such paltry townships and insignificant bands of mutineers had the insolence to term themselves Free States, and propose to enter into negotiation as such with a mighty prince like Charles of Burgundy.”
“May it please your excellency,” replied the Landamman, with perfect temper, “your own laws of chivalry declare, that if the stronger wrong the weaker, or the noble does injury to the less gentle, the very act levels distinctions between them, and the doer of an injury becomes bound to give condign satisfaction, of such kind as the wronged party shall demand.”
“Hence to thy hills, churl!” exclaimed the haughty Knight; “there comb thy beard and roast thy chestnuts. What! because a few rats and mice find retreat among the walls and wainscoting of our dwelling-houses, shall we therefore allow them to intrude their disgusting presence, and their airs of freedom and independence, into our personal presence? No, we will rather crush them beneath the heel of our iron shod boots.”
“We are not men to be trodden on,” said Arnold Biederman, calmly; “those who have attempted it have found us stumbling-blocks. Lay, Sir Knight, lay aside for an instant this haughty language, which can only lead to warfare, and listen to the words of peace. Dismiss our comrade, the English merchant Philipson, on whom you have this morning laid unlawful hands let him pay a moderate sum for his ransom, and we, who are bound instantly to the Duke’s presence, will bear a fair report to him of his Governor of La Ferette.”
“You will be so generous, will you!” said Sir Archibald, in a tone of ridicule. “And what pledge shall I have that you will favor me so kindly as you propose?”
“The word of a man who never broke his promise,” answered the stoical Landamman.
“Insolent hind!” replied the Knight, “dost thou stipulate? thou offer thy paltry word as a pledge betwixt the Duke of Burgundy and Archibald de Hagenbach? Know that ye go not to Burgundy at all, or you go thither with fetters on your hands and halters round your necks. — So ho, Burgundy to the Rescue!”
Instantly as he spoke, the soldiers showed themselves before, behind, and around the narrow space where the Swiss had drawn themselves up. The battlements of the town were lined with men, others presented themselves at the doors of each house in the street, prepared to sally, and, at the windows, prepared to shoot, as well with guns as with bows and crossbows. The soldiers who defended the barricade also started up; and seemed ready to dispute the passage in front. The little band, encompassed and over-matched, but neither startled nor disheartened, stood to their arms. The centre rank under the Landamman prepared to force their way over the barricade. The two fronts stood back to back, ready to dispute the street with those that should issue from the houses. It could not fail to prove a work of no small blood and toil to subdue this handful of determined men, even with five times their number. Some sense of this, perhaps, made Sir Archibald delay giving the signal for onset, when suddenly behind arose a cry of “Treason, treason!”
A soldier covered with mud rushed before the Governor, and said, in hurried accents, that, as he endeavored to stop a prisoner who had made his escape some short time since, he had been seized by the burghers of the town, and well-nigh drowned in the moat. He added, that the citizens were even now admitting the enemy into the place.
“Kilian,” said the Knight, “take two score of men — hasten to the northern sallyport stab, cut down, or throw from the battlements, whomsoever you meet in arms, townsmen or strangers. Leave me to settle with these peasants by fair means or foul.”
But ere Kilian could obey his master’s commands, a shout arose in the rear, where they cried, “Bale! Bale — Freedom! freedom — The day is our own!”
Onward came the youth of Bale, who had not been at such a distance but that Rudolph had contrived to recall them — onward came many Swiss who had hovered around the embassy, hiding themselves in readiness for such a piece of service; and onward came the armed citizens of La Ferette, who, compelled to take arms and mount guard by the tyranny of De Hagenbach, had availed themselves of the opportunity to admit the Balese, at the sallyport through which Philipson had lately made his escape.
The garrison, somewhat discouraged before by the firm aspect of the Swiss who had held their numbers at defiance, were totally disconcerted by this new and unexpected insurrection. Most of them prepared rather to fly than to fight, and they threw themselves in numbers from the walls, as the best chance of escaping. Kilian and some others, whom pride prevented from flying, and despair from asking quarter, fought with fury, and were killed on the spot. In the midst of this confusion the Landamman kept his own bands unmoved, permitting them to take no share in the action, save to repel such violence as was offered to them.
“Stand fast all!” sounded the deep voice of Arnold Bieder man along their little body. “Where is Rudolph? — Save lives but take none. — Why, how now, Arthur Philipson! stand fast — I say.”
“I cannot stand fast,” said Arthur, who was in the act of leaving the ranks. “I must seek my father in the dungeons they may be slaying him in this confusion while I stand idle here.”
“By Our Lady of Einsiedlen, you say well,” answered the Landamman; “that I should have forgot my noble guest! I will help thee to search for him, Arthur — the affray seems well nigh ended. — Ho, there, Sir Banneret, worthy Adam Zimmerman, my good friend Nicholas Bonstetten, keep our men standing firm. — Have nothing to do with this affray, but leave the men of Bale to answer their own deeds. I return in a few minutes.”
So saying, he hurried after Arthur Philipson, whose recollection conducted him with sufficient accuracy, to the head of the dungeon stairs. There they met an ill-looking man clad in a buff jerkin, who bore at his girdle a bunch of rusted keys, which intimated the nature of his calling.
“Show me the prison of the English merchant,” said Arthur Philipson, “or thou diest by my hand!”
“Which of them desire you to see?” answered the official: — “The old man, or the young one?”
“The old,” said young Philipson. “His son has escaped thee.”
“Enter here then, gentlemen,” said the jailer, undoing the spring-bolt of a heavy door.
At the upper end of the apartment lay the man they came te seek for, who was instantly raised from the ground, and loaded with their embraces.
“My dear father!” — “My worthy guest!” said his son and friend at the same moment, — how fares it with you?”
“Well,” answered the elder Philipson, “if you, my friend, and son, come, as I judge from your arms and countenance as conquerors, and at liberty — ill, if you come to share my prison-house.”
“Have no fear of that,” said the Landamman; “we have been in danger, but are remarkably delivered. — Your evil lair has benumbed you. Lean on me, my noble guest, and let none assist you to better quarters.”
Here he was interrupted by a heavy clash, as it seemed, of iron, and differing from the distant roar of the popular tumult, which they still heard from the open street, as men hear the deep voice of a remote and tempestuous ocean.
“By Saint Peter of the fetters!” said Arthur who instantly discovered the cause of the sound, “the jailer has cast the door to the staple, or it has escaped his grasp. The spring-lock has closed upon us, and we cannot be liberated saving from the outside. — Ho, jailer dog! villain! open the door, or thou diest!”
“He is probably out of hearing of your threats,” said the elder Philipson, “and your cries avail you nothing. But are you sure the Swiss are in possession of the town?”
“We are peaceful occupants of it,” answered the Landamman, “though without a blow given on our side.”
“Why then,” said the Englishman, “your followers will soon find you out. Arthur and I are paltry ciphers, and our absence might easily pass over unobserved; but you are too important a figure not to be missed and looked after, when the sum of your number is taken.”
“I well hope it will prove so,” said the Landamman, “though methinks I show but scurvily, shut up here like a cat in a cupboard, when he has been stealing cream — Arthur, my brave boy, dost thou see no means of shooting back the bolt?”
Arthur, who had been minutely examining the lock, replied in the negative; and added, that they must take patience perforce, and arm themselves to wait calmly their deliverance, which they could do nothing to accelerate.
Arnold Biederman, however, felt somewhat severely the neglect of his sons and companions.
“All my youths, uncertain whether I am alive or dead, are taking the opportunity of my absence, doubtless, for pillage arid license — and the politic Rudolph, I presume, cares not if I shouild never reappear on the stage — the Banneret, and the white-bearded fool Bonstetten, who calls me his friend — every neighbor has deserted me - and yet they know that I am anxious for the safety of the most insignificant of them all, as dearer to me than my own. By heavens! it looks like stratagem; and shows as if the rash young men desired to get rid of a rule too regular and peaceful to be pleasing to those who are cager for war and conquest.”
The Landamman, fretted out of usual serenity of temper, and afraid of the misbehavior of his countrymen in his absence, thus reflected upon his friends and companions, while the distant noise soon died away into the most absolute and total silence.
“What is to do now?” said Arthur Philipson. “I trust they will take the opportunity of quiet to go through the roll call, and inquire then who are amissing.”
It seemed as if the young man’s wish had some efficacy, for he had scarce uttered it before the lock was turned, and the door set ajar by some one who escaped up stairs from behind it, before those who were set at liberty could obtain a glance of their deliverer.
“It is the jailer, doubtless,” said the Landamman, “who may be apprehensive, as he has some reason, that we might prove more incensed at our detention in the dungeon, than grateful for our deliverance.”
As they spoke thus, they ascended the narrow stairs, and issued from the door of the Gatehouse tower, where a singular spectacle awaited them. The Swiss Deputies, and their escort, still remained standing fast and firm on the very spot where Hagenbach had proposed to assail them. A few of the late Governor’s soldiers, disarmed, and cowenn from the rage of a multitude of the citizens, who now filled the streets, stood with downcast looks behind the phalanx of the mountaineers as their safest place of retreat. But this was not all.
The cars, so lately placed to obstruct the passage of the street, were now joined together, and served to support a platform, or scaffold, which had been hastily constructed of planks. On this was placed a chair, in which sat a tall man, with his head, neck, and shoulders bare, the rest of his body clothed in bright armor. His countenance was as pale as death, yet young Philipson recognized the hard-hearted Governor, Sir Archibald de Hagenbach. He appeared to be bound to the chair. On his right, and close beside him, stood the Priest of Saint Paul’s, muttering prayers, with his breviary in his hand; while, on his left, and somewhat behind the captive, appeared a tall man attired in red, aud leaning with both hands on the naked sword, which has been described on a former occasion. The instant that Arnold Biederman appeared, and before the Landamman could open his lips to demand the meaning of what he saw, the priest drew back, the executioner stepped forward, the sword was brandished, the blow was struck, and the victim’s head rolled on the scaffold. A general acclamation and clapping of hands, like that by which a crowded theatre approves of some well-graced performer, followed this feat of dexterity. While the headless corpse shot streams from the arteries, which were drunk up by the sawdust that strewed the scaffold, the executioner graceful1y presented himself alternately at the four corners of the stage, modestly bowing, as the multitude greeted him with cheers of approbation.
“Nobles, knights, gentlemen of free-born blood, and good citizens,” he said, “who have assisted at this act of high justice, I pray you to bear me witness that this judgment hath been executed after the form of the sentence, at one blow, and without stroke missed or repeated.”
The acclamations were reiterated.
“Long live our Scharfgerichter Steinernherz, and many a tyrant may he do his duty on!”
“Noble friends,” said the executioner, with the deepest obeisance, “I have yet another word to say, and it must be a proud one. — God be gracious to the soul of this good and noble knight, Sir Archibald de Hagenbach. He was the patron of my youth, and my guide to the path of honor. Eight steps have I made towards freedom and nobility on the heads of free born knights and nobles, who have fallen by his authority and command; and the ninth, by which I have attained it, is upon his own, in grateful memory of which I will expend this purse of gold, which but an hour since he bestowed on me, in masses for his soul. Gentlemen, noble friends, and now my equals, La Ferette has lost a nobleman and gained one. Our Lady be gracious to the departed knight, Sir Archibald de Hagenbach, and bless and prosper the progress of Stephen Steineriiherz van Blut-sacker, now free and noble of right!” 11
“With that he took the feather out of the cap of the deceased, which, soiled with the blood of the wearer, lay near his body upon the scaffold, and, putting it into his own official bonnet, received the homage of the crowd in loud huzzas, which were partly in earnest, partly in ridicule of such an unusual transformation.
Arnold Biederman at length found breath, which the extremity of surprise h............