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Updated: May 18, 2025
At the sight of Chandos he gave a cry of joy and quickened his pace so that when he did at last reach him he could only stand gasping and waving his hands. "Give yourself time, good Master Wintersole, give yourself time!" said Chandos in a soothing voice. "The papers!" gasped the little man. "Oh, my Lord Chandos, the papers " "What of the papers, my worthy sir?"
What is your news, Master John?" Chandos' quaint face quivered with suppressed amusement and his one eye twinkled like a star. "Have you had sport, my liege?" "Poor sport, John. We flew two hawks on the same heron. They crabbed, and the bird got free. But why do you smile so?" "Because I hope to show you better sport ere you come to Tilford." "For the hawk? For the hound?"
The motion was made by James Brydges, eldest son of the Lord Chandos, the James Brydges who afterwards became Duke of Chandos, who raised a gigantic fortune out of war taxes, to squander it in comfortless and tasteless ostentation, and who is still remembered as the Timon of Pope's keen and brilliant satire.
The king now created him Marshal of Normandy and Count of Longueville. At the battle of Auray, in September of the same year, Charles of Blois was defeated and killed, and Du Guesclin taken prisoner, by Sir John Chandos. The grand companies beginning, after the close of the war, to play the part of brigands in France, it was necessary to get rid of them.
This, with the confusion in front, and a rumor that part of the army was beaten, carried terror into the rear ranks, and vast numbers, who had hardly seen an enemy, galloped madly from the field. The arrows discharged by the horse-archers now began to tell on the front line of the enemy: the quick eye of Sir John Chandos marked it waver and open.
"This," as Chandos said, "was a service which really showed him worthy of his spurs, if he would but continue the good course."
"If you like, I shall be happy to show you how to take an observation, and the way to work it out," said Ralph, touching his hat, though he felt more compassion than respect for the youngster. "I wish you would, Michelmore," answered young Chandos, in a grateful tone; "I have been bothering away day after day and haven't liked to ask any one."
"Truly, my Lord John," said old Sir John Chandos sternly, "a man may well blush to hear a son of King Edward talk as if such trifling were the reward of knighthood. His face and his fame forsooth! as if he were not already in sufficient danger of being cockered up, like some other striplings on whom it has pleased his Highness to confer knighthood for as mere a chance as this."
The King looked at the motionless figure, at the little crowd of hushed expectant rustics beyond the bridge, and finally at the face of Chandos, which shone with amusement. "What is this, John?" he asked. "You remember Sir Eustace Loring, sire?" "Indeed I could never forget him nor the manner of his death." "He was a knight errant in his day." "That indeed he was none better have I known."
Banneret or bachelor, square pennon or forked, I would not give a denier for the difference, and the less since Sir John Chandos, chosen flower of English chivalry, is himself but a humble knight. But meanwhile fret not thyself, my heart's dove, for it is like that there may be no war waged, and we must await the news.
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