CHAPTER IX
CRECY FIELD
It was Saturday, the 26th of August, in the year 1346. The harassedEnglish host--but a little host, after all, retreating for its life fromParis--had forced the passage of the Somme by the ford which a forgottentraitor, Gobin Agache by name, revealed to them. Now it stood at bayupon the plain of Crecy, there to conquer or to die.
"Will the French fight to-day, what think you?" asked Hugh of Grey Dick,who had just descended from an apple-tree which grew in the garden of aburnt-out cottage. Here he had been engaged on the twofold businessof surveying the disposition of the English army and in gathering apocketful of fruit which remained upon the tree's topmost boughs.
"I think that these are very good apples," answered Dick, speaking withhis mouth full. "Eat while you get the chance, master, for, who knows,the next you set your teeth in may be of the kind that grew upon theTree of Life in a very old garden," and he handed him two of the best.Then he turned to certain archers, who clustered round with outstretchedhands, saying: "Why should I give you my apples, fellows, seeing thatyou were too lazy to climb and get them for yourselves? None of you evergave me anything when I was hungry, after the sack of Caen, in whichmy master, being squeamish, would take no part. Therefore I went to bedsupperless, because, as I remember you said, I had not earned it. Still,as I don't want to fight the French with a bellyache, go scramble forthem."
Then, with a quick motion, he flung the apples to a distance, all saveone, which he presented to a tall man who stood near, adding:
"Take this, Jack Green, in token of fellowship, since I have nothingelse to offer you. I beat you at Windsor, didn't I, when we shot a matchbefore the King? Now show your skill and beat me and I'll say 'thankyou.' Keep count of your arrows shot, Jack, and I'll keep count of mine,and when the battle is over, he who has grassed most Frenchmen shall becalled the better man."
"Then I'm that already, lad," answered the great yeoman with a grin ashe set his teeth in the apple. "For, look you, having served at CourtI've learned how to lie, and shall swear I never wasted shaft, whereasyou, being country born, may own to a miss or two for shame's sake. Or,likelier still, those French will have one or both of us in their bag.If all tales are true, there is such a countless host of them that wefew English shall not see the sky for arrows."
Dick shrugged his shoulders and was about to answer when suddenly asound of shouting deep and glad rose from the serried companies upontheir left. Then the voice of an officer was heard calling:
"Line! Line! The King comes!"
Another minute and over the crest of a little rise appeared Edward ofEngland clad in full armour. He wore a surtout embroidered with thearms of England and France, but his helm hung at his saddle-bow thatall might see his face. He was mounted, not on his war steed, but on asmall, white, ambling palfrey, and in his hand he bore a short baton.With him came two marshalls, gaily dressed, and a slim young man cladfrom head to foot in plain black armour, and wearing a great ruby in hishelm, whom all knew for Edward, Prince of Wales.
On he rode, acknowledging the cheering of his soldiers with smiles andcourtly bows, till at length he pulled rein just in front of the tripleline of archers, among whom were mingled some knights and men-at-arms,for the order of battle was not yet fully set. Just then, on the plainbeneath, riding from out the shelter of some trees and, as they thought,beyond the reach of arrows, appeared four splendid French knights, andwith them a few squires. There they halted, taking stock, it would seem,of the disposition of the English army.
"Who are those that wear such fine feathers?" asked the King.
"One is the Lord of Bazeilles," answered a marshall. "I can see the monkupon his crest, but the blazons of the others I cannot read. They spyupon us, Sire; may we sally out and take them?"
"Nay," answered Edward, "their horses are fresher than ours; let themgo, for pray God we shall see them closer soon."
So the French knights, having stared their full, turned and rode awayslowly. But one of their squires did otherwise. Dismounting from hishorse, which he left with another squire to hold, he ran forward afew paces to the crest of a little knoll. Thence he made gestures ofcontempt and scorn toward the English army, as he did so shouting foulwords, of which a few floated to them in the stillness.
"Now," said Edward, "if I had an archer who could reach that varlet,I'll swear that his name should not be forgotten in England. But alas!it may not be, for none cam make an arrow fly true so far."
Instantly Grey Dick stepped forward.
"Sire, may I try?" he asked, stringing his great black bow as he spoke.
"Who are you?" said the King, "who seem to have been rolled in ashes andwear my own gold arrow in your cap? Ah! I remember, the Suffolk man whoshowed us all how to shoot at Windsor, he who is called Grey Dick. Yes,try, Grey Dick, try, if you think that you can reach so far. Yet for thehonour of St. George, man, do not miss, for all the host will see Fateriding on your shaft."
For one moment Dick hesitated. Such awful words seemed to shake even hisiron nerve.
"I've seen you do as much, Dick," said the quiet voice of Hugh de Cressibehind him. "Still, judge you."
Then Dick ground his heels into the turf and laid his weight against thebow. While all men watched breathless, he drew it to an arc, he drew ittill the string was level with his ear. He loosed, then, slewing round,straightened himself and stared down at the earth. As he said afterward,he feared to watch that arrow.
Away it sped while all men gazed. High, high it flew, the sunlightglinting on its polished barb. Down it came at length, and the Kingmuttered "Short!" But while the word passed his lips that shaft seemedto recover itself, as though by magic, and again rushed on. He of thefoul words and gestures saw it coming, and turned to fly. As he leaptforward the war arrow struck him full in the small of the back, justwhere the spine ends, severing it, so that he fell all of a heap like anox beneath the axe, and lay a still and huddled shape.
From all the English right who saw this wondrous deed there went up sucha shout that their comrades to the left and rear thought for a momentthat battle had been joined. The King and the Prince stared amazed. Hughflung his arms about Dick's neck, and kissed him. Jack Green cried:
"No archer, but a wizard! Mere man could not have sent a true shaft sofar."
"Then would to heaven I had more such wizards," said the King. "Godbe with you, Grey Dick, for you have put new heart into my and all ourcompany. Mark, each of you, that he smote him in the back, smote himrunning! What reward would you have, man?"
"None," answered Dick in a surly voice. "My reward is that, whateverhappens, yon filthy French knave will never mock honest English folkagain. Or so I think, though the arrow barely reached him. Yet, Sire,"he added after a pause, "you might knight my master, Hugh de Cressi, ifyou will, since but for him I should have feared to risk that shot."
Then turning aside, Dick unstrung his bow, and, pulling the remains ofthe apple out of his pouch, began to munch it unconcernedly.
"Hugh de Cressi!" said the King. "Ah! yes, I mind me of him and of therogue, Acour, and the maid, Red Eve. Well, Hugh, I am told you foughtgallantly at Blanche-Tague two days gone and were among the last tocross the Somme. Also, we have other debts to pay you. Come hither, sir,and give me your sword."
"Your pardon, my liege," said Hugh, colouring, "but I'll not be knightedfor my henchman's feats, or at all until I have done some of my own."
"Ah, well, Master Hugh," said the King, "that's a right spirit. Afterthe battle, perhaps, if it should please God that we live to meet againin honour. De Cressi," he added musingly, "why this place is calledCrecy, and here, I think, is another good omen. At Crecy shall de Cressigain great honour for himself and for St. George of England. You areluck bringers, you two. Let them not be separated in the battle, lestthe luck should leave them. See to it, if it please you, my lord ofWarwick. Young de Cressi can draw a bow; let him fight amongst thearchers and have liberty to join the men-at-arms when the time comes. Orstay; s
et them near my son the Prince, for there surely the fight willbe hottest.
"And now, you men of England, whatever your degree, my brothers ofEngland, gentle and simple, Philip rolls down upon us with all the mightof France, our heritage which he has stolen, our heritage and yours.Well, well, show him to-day, or to-morrow, or whenever it may be, thatEnglishmen put not their faith in numbers, but in justice and their owngreat hearts. Oh, my brothers and my friends, let not Edward, whom youare pleased to serve as your lawful King, be whipped off the field ofCrecy and out of France! Stand to your banners, stand to your King,stand to St. George and God! Die where you are if need be, as I will.Never threaten and then show your backs like that knave the archer shotbut now. Look, I give my son into your keeping," and he pointed to theyoung Prince, who all this while sat upon his horse upright and silent."The Hope of England shall be your leader, but if he flies, why then,cut him down, and fight without him. But he'll not fly and you'll notfly; no, you and he together will this day earn a name that shall betold of when the world is grey with age. Great is the chance that lifehas given you; pluck it, pluck it from the land of opportunity and, deador living, become a song forever in the mouths of men unborn. Think notof prisoners; think not of ransoms and of wealth. Think not of me or ofyourselves, but think of England's honour, and for that strike home, forEngland watches you to-day."
"We will, we will! Fear not, King, we will," shouted the host in answer.
With a glad smile, Edward took his young son's hand and shook it; thenrode away followed by his marshals.
"De Cressi," he said, as he passed Hugh, "the knave Acour, your foe andmine, is with Philip of France. He has done me much damage, de Cressi,more than I can stop to tell. Avenge it if you can. Your luck is great,you may find the chance. God be with you and all. My lords, farewell.You have your orders. Son Edward, fare you well, also. Meet me againwith honour, or never more."
It was not yet noon when King Edward spoke these words, and long hourswere to go by before the battle joined. Indeed, most thought that noblow would be struck that day, since it was known that Philip had sleptat Abbeville, whence for a great army the march was somewhat long.Still, when all was made ready, the English sat them down in theirranks, bows and helmets at side, ate their mid-day meal with appetite,and waited whatever fate might send them.
In obedience to the King's command Hugh and Grey Dick had been attachedto the immediate person of the Prince of Wales, who had about him,besides his own knights, a small band of chosen archers and another bandof men-at-arms picked for their strength and courage. These soldierswere all dismounted, since the order had gone forth that knight andsquire must fight afoot, every horse having been sent to the rear, forthat day the English expected to receive charges, not to make them.This, indeed, would have been impossible, seeing that all along theirfront the wild Welsh had laboured for hours digging pits into whichhorses might plunge and fall.
There then the Prince's battle sat, a small force after all, perhapstwelve hundred knights and men-at-arms, with three or four thousandarchers, and to their rear, as many of the savage, knife-armed Welshwho fought that day under the banner of their country, the red Dragonof Merlin. Grey Dick's place was on the extreme left of the archerbodyguard, and Hugh's on the extreme right of that of the men-at-arms,so that they were but a few yards apart and could talk together. Fromtime to time they spoke of sundry things, but mostly of home, for inthis hour of danger through which both of them could hardly hopeto live, even if one did, their thoughts turned thither, as was butnatural.
"I wonder how it fares with the lady Eve," said Hugh, with a sigh, forof her no news had come to him since they had parted some months before,after he recovered from the wound which Clavering gave him.
"Well enough, doubtless. Why not?" replied Dick. "She is strong andhealthy, she has many friends and servants to guard her and no enemythere to harm her, for her great foe is yonder," and he nodded towardsAbbeville. "Oh, without doubt well enough. It is she who should wonderhow it fares with us. Let us hope that, having naught else to do, sheremembers us in her prayers, since in such a case even one woman'sprayers are worth something, for does not a single feather sometimesturn the scale?"
"I think that Eve would rather fight than pray," answered Hugh, with asmile, "like old Sir Andrew, who would give half his remaining days tosit here with us this afternoon. Well, he is better where he is. Dick,that knave Acour sent only insolent words in answer to my challenge,which I despatched to him by the knight I took and spared at Caen."
"Why should he do more, master? He can find plenty of ways of dyingwithout risking a single combat with one whom he has wronged and who istherefore very dangerous. You remember his crest, master--a silver swanpainted on his shield. I knew it, and that is why I shot that poor fowljust before you killed young Clavering on the banks of Blythe, to teachhim that swans are not proof against arrows. Watch for the swan crest,master, when the battle joins, and so will I, I promise you."
"Ay, I'll watch," said Hugh grimly. "God help all swans that come myway. Let us pray that this one has not taken wing, for if so I, too,must learn to fly."
Thus they talked of these and other things amongst the hum of the greatcamp, which was like to that of bees on a lime-tree in summer, andwhilst they talked the blue August sky became suddenly overcast. Denseand heavy clouds hid up its face, a cold and fitful wind began to blow,increasing presently to a gale which caused the planted standards,blazoned with lions rampant and with fleurs-de-lis, and the pennons of ahundred knights set here and there among the long battle lines, first toflap and waver and then to stand out straight as though they were cut ofiron.
A word of command was called from rank to rank.
"Sheath bows!" it said, and instantly thousands of slender points werelifted and sank again, vanishing into the leathern cases which thearchers bore.
Scarcely were these snug when the storm broke. First fell a few heavydrops, to be followed by such a torrent that all who had cloaks wereglad to wear them. From the black clouds above leapt lightnings thatwere succeeded by the deep and solemn roll of thunder. A darkness fellupon the field so great that men wondered what it might portend, fortheir minds were strained. That which at other times would have passedwithout remark, now became portentous. Indeed, afterward some declaredthat through it they had seen angels or demons in the air, and othersthat they had heard a voice prophesying woe and death, to whom they knewnot.
"It is nothing but a harvest tempest," said Dick presently, as he shookthe wet from him like a dog and looked to the covering of his quiver."See, the clouds break."
As he spoke a single red ray from the westering sun shot through arift in the sky and lay across the English host like a sword of light,whereof the point hung over the eastern plain. Save for this flamingsword all else was dark, and silent also, for the rain and thunder haddied away. Only thousands of crows, frightened from the woods, wheeledto and fro above, their black wings turning to the redness of blood asthey crossed and recrossed that splendid path of light, and their hoarsecries filling the solemn air with clamour. The sight and sounds werestrange, nor did the thickest-headed fellow crouched upon Crecy'sfateful plain ever forget them till his dying day.
The sky cleared by slow degrees, the multitudes of crows wheeled offtoward the east and vanished, the sun shone out again in quiet glory.
"Pray God the French fight us to-day," said Hugh as he took off hiscloak and rolled it up.
"Why, master?"
"Because, Dick, it is written that the rain falls on the just and theunjust; and the unjust, that is the French, or rather the Italians whomthey hire, use these new-fangled cross-bows which as you know cannot becased like ours, and therefore stretch their strings in wet."
"Master," remarked Dick, "I did not think you had so much wit--that is,since you fell in love, for before then you were sharp enough. Well, youare right, and a little matter like that may turn a battle. Not but whatI had thought of it already."
Hugh was about to answer with
spirit, when a sound of distant shoutingbroke upon their ears, a very mighty sound, and next instant someoutposts were seen galloping in, calling: "Arm! Arm! The French! TheFrench!"
Suddenly there appeared thousands of cross-bow men, in thick, waveringlines, and behind them the points of thousands of spears, whose bearersas yet were hidden by the living screen of the Italian archers. Yes,before them was the mighty host of France glittering in the splendidlight of the westering sun, which shone full into their faces.
The irregular lines halted. Perhaps there was something in the aspectof those bands of Englishmen still seated in silence on the ground, withnever a horse among them, that gave them pause. Then, as though at aword of command, the Genoese cross-bow men set up a terrific shout.
"Do they think to make us run at a noise, like hares?" said Hughcontemptuously.
But Grey Dick made no answer, for already his pale eyes were fixedupon the foe with a stare that Hugh thought was terrible, and hislong fingers were playing with the button of his bow-case. The Genoeseadvanced a little way, then again stood and shouted, but still theEnglish sat silent.
A third time they advanced and shouted more loudly than before, thenbegan to wind up their cross-bows.
From somewhere in the English centre rose a heavy, thudding sound whichwas new to war. It came from the mouths of cannons now for the firsttime fired on a field of battle, and at the report of them the Genoese,frightened, fell back a little. Seeing that the balls fell short and didbut hop toward them slowly, they took courage again and began to loosetheir bolts.
"You're right, master," exclaimed Grey Dick in a fierce chuckle, "theirstrings _are_ wet," and he pointed to the quarrels that, like the cannonballs, struck short, some within fifty paces of those who shot them, sothat no man was hurt.
Now came a swift command, and the English ranks rose to their feet,uncased their bows and strung them all as though with a single hand. Asecond command and every bow was bent. A third and with a noise that washalf hiss and half moan, thousands of arrows leapt forward. Forward theyleapt, and swift and terrible they fell among the ranks of the advancingGenoese. Yes, and ere ever one had found its billet, its quiver-mate washastening on its path. Then--oh! the sunlight showed it all--the Genoeserolled over by scores, their frail armour bitten through and through bythe grey English arrows. By scores that grew to hundreds, that grewtill the poor, helpless men who were yet unhurt among them wailed out intheir fear, and, after one short, hesitant moment, surged back upon thelong lines of men-at-arms behind.
From these arose a great shout: "_Trahison! Trahison! Tuez! Tuez!_" Nextinstant the appalling sight was seen of the chivalry of France fallingupon their friends, whose only crime was that their bow-strings werewet, and butchering them where they stood. So awful and unexpected wasthis spectacle that for a little while the English archers, all exceptGrey Dick and a few others cast in the same iron mould, ceased to plytheir bows and watched amazed.
The long shafts began to fly again, raining alike upon the slaughterersand the slaughtered. A few minutes, five perhaps, and this terriblescene was over, for of the seven thousand Genoese but a tithe remainedupon their feet, and the interminable French lines, clad in sparklingsteel and waving lance and sword, charged down upon the little Englishband.
"Now for the feast!" screamed Grey Dick. "That was but a snack to sharpthe appetite," and as he said the words a gorgeous knight died with hisarrow through the heart.
It came, the charge came. Nothing could stop it. Down went man andhorse, line upon line of them swept to death by the pitiless Englisharrows, but still more rushed on. They fell in the pits that had beendug; they died beneath the shafts and the hoofs of those that followed,but still they struggled on, shouting: "Philip and St. Denis!" andwaving their golden banner, the Oriflamme of France.
The charge crept up as a reluctant, outworn wave creeps to a resistingrock. It foamed upon the rock. The archers ceased to shoot and drewtheir axes. The men-at-arms leapt forward. The battle had joined atlast! Breast to breast they wrestled now. Hugh's sword was red, and redwas Grey Dick's axe. Fight as they would, the English were borne back.The young Prince waved his arm, screaming something, and at that sightthe English line checked its retreat, stood still, and next plungedforward with a roar of:
"England and the Prince!"
That assault was over. Backward rolled the ride of men, those who wereleft living. After them went the dark Welsh. Their commanders orderedthem to stand; the Earl of Warwick ordered them to stand. The Princehimself ordered them to stand, running in front of them, only to beswept aside like a straw before a draught of wind. Out they broke,grinning and gnashing their teeth, great knives in their hands.
The red Dragon of Merlin which a giant bore led them on. It sank,it fell, it rose again. The giant was down, but another had it. Theyscrambled over the mass of dead and dying. They got among the livingbeyond. With eerie screams they houghed the horses and, when the ridersfell, hacked open the lacings of their helms, and, unheeding of anycries for mercy, drove the great knives home. At length all were dead,and they returned again waving those red knives and singing some fiercechant in their unknown tongue.
The battle was not over yet. Fresh horses of Frenchmen gathered outof arrow range, and charged again under the banners of Blois, Alencon,Lorraine, and Flanders. Forward they swept, and with them came one wholooked like a king, for he wore a crown upon his helm. The hawk-eyedDick noted him, and that his bridle was bound to those of the knightswho rode upon his either side. On them he rained shafts from his greatblack bow, for Grey Dick never shot without an aim, and after the battleone of his marked arrows was found fixed in the throat of the blind kingof Bohemia.
This second charge could not be stayed. Step by step the English knightswere beaten back; the line of archers was broken through; his guardformed round the Prince, Hugh among them. Heavy horses swept on to them.Beneath the hoofs of one of these Hugh was felled, but, stabbing it frombelow, caused the poor beast to leap aside. He gained his feetagain. The Prince was down, a splendid knight--it was the Count ofFlanders--who had sprung from his horse, stood over him, his sword pointat his throat, and called on him to yield. Up ran Robert Fitzsimmon, thestandard bearer, shouting:
"To the son of the King! To the son of the King!"
He struck down a knight with the pole of his standard. Hugh sprang likea wild-cat at Louis of Flanders, and drove his sword through his throat.Richard de Beaumont flung the great banner of Wales over the Prince,hiding him till more help came to beat back the foe. Then the Princestruggled from the ground, gasping:
"I thank you, friends," and once more the French retreated. The Welshbanner rose again and that danger was over.
The Earl of Warwick ran up. Hugh noted that his armour was covered withblood.
"John of Norwich," he cried to an aged knight, who stood leaning on hissword, "take one with you, away to the King and pray him for aid. TheFrench gather again; we are outworn with blows; the young Prince is indanger of his life or liberty. Begone!"
Old John's eyes fell on Hugh.
"Come with me, you Suffolk man," he said, and away they went.
"Now what would you give," he gasped as they ran, "to be drinking astoup of ale with me in my tower of Mettingham as you have done beforethis red day dawned? What would you give, young Hugh de Cressi?"
"Nothing at all," answered Hugh. "Rather would I die upon this field inglory than drink all the ale in Suffolk for a hundred years."
"Well said, young man," grunted John. "So do I think would I, though Ihave never longed for a quart of liquor more."
They came to a windmill and climbed its steep stairs. On the topstage, amid the corn sacks stood Edward of England looking through thewindow-places.
"Your business, Sir John?" he said, scarcely turning his head.
The old knight told it shortly.
"My son is not dead and is not wounded," replied the King, "and I havenone to send to his aid. Bid him win his spurs; the day shall yet behis. Look," he a
dded, pointing through the window-place, "our bannershave not given back a spear's throw, and in front of them the field ispaved with dead. I tell you the French break. Back, de Norwich! Back, deCressi, and bid the Prince to charge!"
Some one thrust a cup of wine into Hugh's hand. He swallowed it,glancing at the wild scene below, and presently was running with SirJohn toward the spot where they saw the Prince's banner flying. Theycame to Warwick and told him the King's answer.
"My father speaks well," said the Prince. "Let none share our glory thisday! My lord, form up the lines, and when my banner is lifted thrice,give the word to charge. Linger not, the dark is near, and either Franceor England must go down ere night."
Forward rolled the French in their last desperate onset; horse and footmingled together. Forward they rolled almost in silence, the arrowsplaying on their dense host, but not as they did at first, for manya quiver was empty. Once, twice, thrice the Prince's banner bowed andlifted, and as it rose for the third time there rang out a shout of:
"Charge for St. George and Edward!"
Then England, that all these long hours had stood still, suddenly hurledherself upon the foe. Hugh, leaping over a heap of dead and dying, sawin front of him a knight who wore a helmet shaped like a wolf's head andhad a wolf painted upon his shield. The wolf knight charged at himas though he sought him alone. An arrow from behind--it was GreyDick's--sank up to the feathers in the horse's neck, and down it came.The rider shook himself clear and began to fight. Hugh was beaten tohis knee beneath a heavy blow that his helm turned. He rose unhurt andrushed at the knight, who, in avoiding his onset, caught his spur on thebody of a dead man and fell backward.
Hugh leapt on to him, striving to thrust his sword up beneath his gorgetand make an end of him.
"Grace!" said the knight in French, "I yield me."
"We take no prisoners," answered Hugh, as he thrust again.
"Pity, then," said the knight. "You are brave, would you butcher afallen man? If you had tripped I would have spared you. Show mercy, someday your case may be mine and it will be repaid to you."
Hugh hesitated, although now the point of his sword was through thelacing of the gorget.
"For your lady's sake, pity," gasped the knight as he felt its point.
"You know by what name to conjure," said Hugh doubtfully. "Well, get yougone if you can, and pray for one Hugh de Cressi, for he gives you yourlife."
The knight seemed to start, then struggled to his feet, and, seizing aloose horse by the bridle, swung himself to the saddle and galloped offinto the shadows.
"Master," croaked a voice into Hugh's ear, "I've seen the swan! Followme. My arrows are all gone, or I'd have shot him."
"God's truth! show him to me," gasped Hugh, and away they leapttogether.
Soon they had outrun even the slaughtering Welsh, and found themselvesmingled with fugitives from the French army. But in the gatheringtwilight none seemed to take any note of them. Indeed every man wasengaged in saving his own life and thought that this was the purpose ofthese two also. Some three hundred yards away certain French knights,mounted, often two upon one horse, or afoot, were flying from that awfulfield, striking out to the right in order to clear themselves of thecumbering horde of fugitives. One of these knights lagged behind,evidently because his horse was wounded. He turned to look back, and alast ray from the dying sun lit upon him.
"Look," said Dick; and Hugh saw that on the knight's shield was blazoneda white swan and that he wore upon his helmet a swan for a crest. Theknight, who had not seen them, spurred his horse, but it would not orcould not move. Then he called to his companions for help, but theytook no heed. Finding himself alone, he dismounted, hastily examined thehorse's wound, and, having unbuckled a cloak from his saddle, cast downhis shield in order that he might run more lightly.
"Thanks to God, he is mine," muttered Hugh. "Touch him not, Dick, unlessI fall, and then do you take up the quarrel till you fall."
So speaking he leapt upon the man out of the shadow of some thorns thatgrew there.
"Lift your shield and fight," said Hugh, advancing on him with raisedsword. "I am Hugh de Cressi."
"Then, sir, I yield myself your prisoner," answered the knight, "seeingthat you are two and I but one."
"Not so. I take no prisoners, who seek vengeance, not ransom, and leastof all from you. My companion shall not touch you unless I fall. Swiftnow, the light dies, and I would kill you fighting."
The knight picked up his shield.
"I know you," he said. "I am not he you think."
"And I know you," answered Hugh. "Now, no words, of them there have beenenough between us," and he smote at him.
For two minutes or more they fought, for the armour of both was good,and one was full of rage and the other of despair. There was little finesword-play about this desperate duel; the light was too low for it. Theystruck and warded, that was all, while Grey Dick stood by and watchedgrimly. Some more fugitives came up, but seeing that blows passed,veered off to the left, for of blows they had known enough that day. Theswan knight missed a great stroke, for Hugh leapt aside; then, as theFrenchman staggered forward, struck at him with all his strength.The heavy sword, grasped in both hands, for Hugh had thrown aside hisshield, caught his foe where neck joins shoulder and sank through hismail deep into the flesh beneath. Down he went. It was finished.
"Unlace his helm, Dick," grasped Hugh. "I would see his face for thelast time, and if he still lives----"
Dick obeyed, cutting the lashings of the helm.
"By the Saints!" he said presently in a startled voice, "if this be SirEdmund Acour he has strangely changed."
"I am not Acour, lord of Noyon," said the dying man in a hollow voice."Had you given me time I would have told you so."
"Then, in Christ's name, who are you?" asked Hugh, "that wear de Noyon'scognizance?"
"I am Pierre de la Roche, one of his knights. You have seen me inEngland. I was with him there, and you made me prisoner on Dunwichheath. He bade me change arms with him before the battle, promising megreat reward, because he knew that if he were taken, Edward of Englandwould hang him as a traitor, whereas me they might ransom. Also, hefeared your vengeance."
"Well, of a truth, you have the reward," said Dick, looking at hisghastly wound.
"Where then is Acour?" gasped Hugh.
"I know not. He fled from the battle an hour ago with the King ofFrance, but I who was doomed would not fly. Oh, that I could find apriest to shrive me!"
"Whither does he fly?" asked Hugh again.
"I know not. He said that if the battle went against us he would seekhis castle in Italy, where Edward cannot reach him."
"What armour did he wear?" asked Dick.
"Mine, mine--a wolf upon his shield, a wolf's head for crest."
Hugh reeled as though an arrow had passed through him.
"The wolf knight, Acour!" he groaned. "And I spared his life."
"A very foolish deed, for which you now pay the price," said Dick, asthough to himself.
"We met in the battle and he told me," said de la Roche, speaking veryslowly, for he grew weak. "Yes, he told me and laughed. Truly we areFate's fools, all of us," and he smiled a ghastly smile and died.
Hugh hid his face in his hands and sobbed in his helpless rage.
"The innocent slain," he said, "by me, and the guilty spared--by me. Oh,God! my cup is full. Take his arms, man, that one day I may show them toAcour, and let us be going ere we share this poor knight's fate. Ah!who could have guessed it was thus that I and Sir Pierre should meet andpart again."
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