152 WORKMEN AND HEROES In the days of the primeval chivalry, when even princes were compelled to win their spurs, such a spectacle was not uncommon. But not for ages had a king been knighted by a subject on a field of battle. Nor was any splendor wanting that could make the spectacle impressive. Nowhere in Ariosto is a picture of more gorgeous details than is presented by this scene of history ; the great crimson silk pavilion, the seat spread with cloth of gold, the blazoned ban- ners, the heralds with their silver trumpets, the multitude all hushed in wonder, the plumed and glittering company of knights and men-at-arms. Such were the surroundings amid which Francis knelt, and Bayard, with his drawn sword, gave the accolade. The sword with which he had performed the ceremony Bayard kept relig- iously until his death. It was then mislaid, and never rediscovered. The loss is a misfortune. For few relics could exist of more romantic interest than the sword with which the noblest of all knights did honor to the most magnificent of kings. Bayard's glory had long been at such a height that hardly any exploit could increase it. And yet an exploit was at hand at which, even when Bayard was the actor of it, all France and Germany were to stand in wonder. The German emperor, marching with a mighty army on Champagne, took Monson by surprise, and advanced against Me"zires. If Me"zires were taken, the whole province would be in the most deadly peril. And yet defence seemed hopeless ; the place had no artillery, and the ramparts were in ruins. At this crisis Bayard volunteered to hold the crazy city. " No walls are weak," he said, in his own noble style, " which are defended by brave men." With a small but chosen band he hastened to Mezieres. Two days after his arrival the Count of Nassau, with a vast array of men and cannon, appeared be- fore the walls. The siege began a siege which seemed impossible to last twelve hours. But day after day went by, and still the town was standing. Every day the ramparts gaped with cannon-shot ; but every night, as if by miracle, they rose again. The defenders suffered from wounds, pestilence, and famine ; but Bayard had put every man on oath to eat his horse, and then his boots, before he would surrender. Three weeks passed ; and when at last the king arrived with forces to relieve the town, he found a few gaunt spectres still glaring defiance from the battered ramparts against a hundred cannon and more than forty thousand men. Nothing can more strikingly describe the part of Bayard than the testimony of his enemies themselves. Some time after, Mary of Hungary asked the Count of Nassau in disdain how it came to pass that with a host of troops and guns he could not take a crazy pigeon-house. " Because," replied the count, " there was an eagle in it." It was Bayard's last great exploit. It had been his lifelong wish that he might fall upon the field of battle. And so it was to be. Early in the spring of 1524, the French camp was posted at Biagrasso. Lord Bonnivet, who was in command, found himself, after a prolonged resistance, at last compelled by famine and sickness to retire before the Spaniards. It was Bay-
