‘What way be they ryden?’
‘Sir, I can nat tell you the certentie, but surely they take the highway to Poiters.’
‘What Frēchmen be they; canst thou tell me?’
‘Sir, it is Sir Loys of Saynt Julyan, and Carlovet the Breton.’
‘Well, quoth Sir Johan Chandos, I care nat, I have no lyst this night to ryde forthe: they may happe to be encoūtred though I be nat ther.’
“And so he taryed there styll a certayne space in a gret study, and at last, when he had well aduysed hymselfe, he sayde, ‘Whatsoever I have sayd here before, I trowe it be good that I ryde forthe; I must retourne to Poictiers, and anone it will be day.’
‘That is true sir,’ quoth the knightes about hym.
‘Then,’ he sayd, ‘make redy, for I wyll ryde forthe.’
“And so they dyd.”
The skirmish commenced; there had fallen a great dew in the morning, in consequence of which the ground was very slippery; the knight’s foot slipped, and in trying to recover himself, it became entangled in the folds of his magnificent surcoat; thus the fall was rendered irretrievable, and whilst he was down he received his death blow.