The answer they gave was to bid him return, for the town belonged to the Republic of Venice, and so would remain, and they would take good care that no Frenchman should ever set foot within.
The trumpeter brought back his answer, and when it was heard, there was no more delay for the men were already in battle order.
"Well, gentlemen, we must all do our best.... Let us march," said Gaston de Foix, Duc de Nemours, "in the name of God and my lord St. Denis." Drums, trumpets, and bugles sounded an alarm. The enemy replied with a burst of artillery, and the attacking party from the citadel began their descent down the hill, where the ground was very slippery, for there had been rain in the night. The general and many other knights took off their broad, plated shoes to gain a firmer hold with the felt slippers worn under the armour, for no one wished to be left behind. At the first rampart there was a fierce conflict, for it was splendidly defended, and while the Good Knight's company cried "Bayard! Bayard! France!" the enemy replied with "Marco! Marco!" making so much noise as to drown the sound of the hand-guns. The Doge, Andrea Gritti, encouraged his followers by saying to them in the Italian tongue: "Hold firm, my friends, the French will soon be tired, and if we can defeat this Bayard, the others will never come on."
But in spite of all his encouragement his men began to give way, and seeing this the Good Knight cried: "Push on, push on, comrades! It is ours; only march forward and we have won." He himself was the first to enter and cross the rampart with about a thousand men following after him, and so with much fighting the first fort was taken with great loss of life to the defenders.
But in the very moment of victory the Good Knight was wounded, receiving the blow of a pike in his thigh, which entered in so deeply that the iron was broken and remained in the wound. He believed himself stricken to death from the pain he suffered, and turning to his friend, the lord of Molart, he said: "Companion, advance with your men, the city is gained; but I can go no further for I am dying." He was losing so much blood that he felt he must either die without confession, or else permit two of his archers to carry him out of the mêlée and do their best to staunch the wound.
When the news spread that their hero and champion was mortally wounded the whole army, captains and men alike, were all moved to avenge his death, and fought with fierce courage. Nothing could resist them, and at length they entered pell-mell into the city, where the citizens and the women threw great stones and boiling water from the windows upon the invaders, doing more harm than all the soldiers had done. But the men of Venice were utterly defeated, and many thousands remained in their last sleep in the great piazza and the narrow streets where they had been pursued by the enemy. Of that proud army which had held Brescia with bold defiance, such as were not slain were taken prisoners, and among these was the Doge of Venice himself. Then followed an awful time of pillage and every form of cruelty and disorder, as was ever the way in those days when a city was taken by storm. The spoils taken were valued at three millions of crowns, and this in the end proved the ruin of the French power in Italy, for so many of the soldiers, demoralised by plunder, deserted with their ill-gotten gains and went home.
Meantime the wounded Bayard was borne into the city by his two faithful archers and taken to a quiet street from whence the tide of battle had passed on. Here they knocked at the door of a fine house whose master had fled to a monastery, leaving his wife in charge. The good lady opened it at once to receive the wounded soldier, and Bayard, turning to his men, bade them guard the house against all comers, being assured that when they heard his name none would attempt to enter. "And rest assured that what you lose in the matter of spoil I will make good to you," he added. The lady of the house led the way to her guest-chamber, whither the Good Knight was carried, and she threw herself on her knees before him, saying: "Noble lord, I present to you this house and all that is in it, for it is yours by right of war, but I pray you to spare my honour and my life and that of my two young daughters...." She had hidden away the poor girls in an attic under the hay, but Bayard soon set her mind at rest, and gave her his knightly word that her house would be as safe as a sanctuary. Then he asked if she knew of a surgeon, and she went to fetch her own doctor, under the escort of one of the archers. When he arrived he dressed the wound, which was very deep and jagged, but he assured his patient that he was in no danger of death, and would probably be on horseback again in less than a month.
Great was the joy of the Duc de Nemours and of all the French army when this good report reached them, and the general, who remained in Brescia for about a week, paid him a visit every day. He tried to comfort him by the prospect of another battle before long against the Spaniards, and bade him be quick and get well, for they could not do without him. The Good Knight made reply that if there should be a battle he would not miss it for the love he bore to his dear Gaston de Foix and for the King's service; rather he would be carried thither in a litter.
Before leaving, when he had placed the hapless city in some kind of order and government, Gaston sent the Good Knight many presents and five hundred crowns, which he at once gave to his faithful archers. The Duke had, indeed, no choice about his movements, for he received most urgent letters from the King of France, who wanted the Spaniards to be driven out of Lombardy as soon as possible, for France was threatened on every side, by the King of England and by the Swiss.
The Good Knight was compelled to remain in bed for nearly five weeks, to his great annoyance, for he received news from the French camp every day, and there was constant talk of an approaching battle. So he sent for the surgeon who attended him and told him that all this worry was making him much worse, and that he must be allowed to join the camp. Seeing what kind of warrior he had to deal with, the good man replied that the wound was not closed but was healing well, and that there would be no danger in his sitting on horseback, but the wound must be carefully dressed night and morning by his barber. If any one had given Bayard a fortune he would not have been so delighted, and he settled to start in two days' time. On the morning when he was to leave after dinner, the good lady of the house came to speak to him. She knew that by the laws of war she, her daughters, and her husband (who had long since returned from the monastery where he had taken refuge) were all prisoners of this French knight, and all that was in the house belonged to him. But she had found him so kind and courteous that she hoped to gain his favour by a handsome present, and she brought with her one of her servants bearing a steel casket containing 2500 ducats. On entering the Good Knight's chamber she fell on her knees before him, but he would not suffer her to speak a word until she was seated by his side. Then she poured out all her gratitude for his knightly courtesy and protection, and at last offered him the casket, opening it to show what it contained. But Bayard put it aside with a friendly smile, and replied: