Part 20 (2/2)

They came to a windmill and climbed its steep stairs. On the top stage, amid the corn sacks stood Edward of England looking through the window-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 have none to send to his aid. Bid him win his spurs; the day shall yet be his. Look,” he added, pointing through the window-place, ”our banners have not given back a spear's throw, and in front of them the field is paved with dead. I tell you the French break. Back, de Norwich! Back, de Cressi, 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 Sir John toward the spot where they saw the Prince's banner flying. They came to Warwick and told him the King's answer.

”My father speaks well,” said the Prince. ”Let none share our glory this day! 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 France or England must go down ere night.”

Forward rolled the French in their last desperate onset; horse and foot mingled together. Forward they rolled almost in silence, the arrows playing on their dense host, but not as they did at first, for many a quiver was empty. Once, twice, thrice the Prince's banner bowed and lifted, 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 hurled herself upon the foe. Hugh, leaping over a heap of dead and dying, saw in front of him a knight who wore a helmet shaped like a wolf's head and had a wolf painted upon his s.h.i.+eld. The wolf knight charged at him as though he sought him alone. An arrow from behind--it was Grey d.i.c.k'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 to his knee beneath a heavy blow that his helm turned. He rose unhurt and rushed at the knight, who, in avoiding his onset, caught his spur on the body of a dead man and fell backward.

Hugh leapt on to him, striving to thrust his sword up beneath his gorget and 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 a fallen man? If you had tripped I would have spared you. Show mercy, some day your case may be mine and it will be repaid to you.”

Hugh hesitated, although now the point of his sword was through the lacing 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 you gone if you can, and pray for one Hugh de Cressi, for he gives you your life.”

The knight seemed to start, then struggled to his feet, and, seizing a loose horse by the bridle, swung himself to the saddle and galloped off into the shadows.

”Master,” croaked a voice into Hugh's ear, ”I've seen the swan! Follow me. My arrows are all gone, or I'd have shot him.”

”G.o.d's truth! show him to me,” gasped Hugh, and away they leapt together.

Soon they had outrun even the slaughtering Welsh, and found themselves mingled with fugitives from the French army. But in the gathering twilight none seemed to take any note of them. Indeed every man was engaged in saving his own life and thought that this was the purpose of these two also. Some three hundred yards away certain French knights, mounted, often two upon one horse, or afoot, were flying from that awful field, striking out to the right in order to clear themselves of the c.u.mbering horde of fugitives. One of these knights lagged behind, evidently because his horse was wounded. He turned to look back, and a last ray from the dying sun lit upon him.

”Look,” said d.i.c.k; and Hugh saw that on the knight's s.h.i.+eld was blazoned a white swan and that he wore upon his helmet a swan for a crest. The knight, who had not seen them, spurred his horse, but it would not or could not move. Then he called to his companions for help, but they took no heed. Finding himself alone, he dismounted, hastily examined the horse's wound, and, having unbuckled a cloak from his saddle, cast down his s.h.i.+eld in order that he might run more lightly.

”Thanks to G.o.d, he is mine,” muttered Hugh. ”Touch him not, d.i.c.k, unless I 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 that grew there.

”Lift your s.h.i.+eld and fight,” said Hugh, advancing on him with raised sword. ”I am Hugh de Cressi.”

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