It was this very time which the Spaniards and Italians had chosen for their attack. They marched on through the night, which was very dark, and in order to recognise each other they all wore a white shirt over their armour. When they arrived near the village they were amazed to see no one, and began to fear that the Good Knight had heard of their enterprise and had retired to Biagrasso. A hundred steps farther on they came upon the few poor archers on the watch, who fled, crying, "Alarm! Alarm!" But they were so hotly pursued that the foe was at the barriers as soon as they were.
The Good Knight, who in such danger never slept without his steel gauntlets and thigh-pieces, with his cuirass by his side, was soon armed, and mounted his horse, which was already saddled. Then, with five or six of his own men-at-arms, he rode straight to the barrier, and was joined by de Lorges and some of his foot-soldiers, who made a good fight. The village was already surrounded, and eager search was made for Bayard, who was the sole object of the expedition, and there was much shouting and confusion. When the Good Knight at the barrier heard the drums of the enemy's foot-soldiers, he said to the Captain Lorges: "My friend, if they pass this barrier we are done for. I pray you, retire with your men, keep close together and march straight for Biagrasso, while I remain with the horsemen to protect your rear. We must leave the enemy our baggage, but let us save the men." Lorges at once obeyed, and the retreat was carried out so cleverly that not ten men we're lost. The Emperor's people were still seeking for the Good Knight when he had already reached Biagrasso and spoken his mind to the Admiral. Bayard was quite broken-hearted at the misfortune which had befallen him, although it was certainly not his fault, but there is more chance in war than in anything else.
Still, there was more than chance in these disasters of the French in Italy. They had quite miscalculated the strength of their enemies, amongst whom was now the famous general, Charles de Bourbon, late Constable of France. The young French King, at a time when Spain, England, and Italy were all against him, had most unwisely deprived Bourbon of the whole of his vast estates by means of a legal quibble; and his greatest subject, driven to desperation by this ungrateful treatment, had passed over to the service of Charles V., and was now in command of the Spanish army. It was he who urged the immediate pursuit of the French when Bonnivet, discouraged by ill success and sickness in his camp, retreated from his strong position at Biagrasso. He made one blunder after another, for now that it was too late he sent a messenger to raise a levy of six thousand Swiss to join him by way of Ivria.
According to his usual gallant custom, as the army retired with forced marches towards the Alps, Bayard took command of the rear-guard, and as the Spaniards followed day by day he bore all the brunt of the constant skirmishing which took place. It was a most perilous office, for the enemy was well provided with artillery, and when the Good Knight made a gallant charge with his company and drove back the men-at-arms, he would be attacked by a shower of stones from the arquebusiers. He seemed to bear a charmed life, though ever in the post of danger, for others were wounded or killed while he escaped unhurt until a certain fatal day when the retreating French army had reached the valley of the Sesia beyond Novara. Here it was that Bonnivet saw his expected troop of Swiss allies on the opposite bank of the river, and at once sent word to them to cross over and join him. But what was his dismay when the Swiss captains replied that the King of France had not paid them or kept his word, and they had come to fetch away their comrades who were in the French army. Worse still, when this became known, all the Swiss mercenaries in his camp rose in open rebellion against Bonnivet, and lost no time in crossing the river, overjoyed to leave a losing cause and go back to their homes with so good an excuse.
The unfortunate French commander was in despair and hoping to hide the catastrophe from the pursuing enemy, he ordered a brisk skirmish, in which he took part with plenty of courage and was severely wounded in the arm. The Good Knight Bayard did prodigies of valour, driving back a whole company of arquebusiers, but in the moment of triumph he was struck by the stone from an arquebus and received mortal injury. Raising the hilt of his sword in the sign of the cross, he cried aloud: "Miserere mei, Deus secundum magnam misericordiam tuam!" He refused to be taken away, saying that he had never turned his back on his enemy, and his faithful steward Jacques Jeffrey and his squire lifted him from his horse and placed him with his back to a tree, still facing the foe with a brave countenance.
We have a most pathetic and touching account of this last scene, in which the Good Knight without Fear and without Reproach died as he had lived, bearing himself with humble devotion towards God and loving care and thought towards all men. His friends would have borne him away, but he implored them to leave him and seek their own safety, for he was in such terrible pain that he could not endure to be moved. He sent his last salutations to the King his master, and to all his companions, and took an affectionate leave of his heart-broken friends, who obeyed his command, all but the one faithful attendant who remained with him to the end. This was his steward, Jacques Jeffrey, and we are told of the poor man's grief and despair, while his master sought to comfort him with brave and noble words. "Jacques, my friend, cease your lament, for it is the will of God to take me away from this world where by His grace I have long dwelt and received more good things and honours than I deserve. The only regret that I have in dying is that I have failed in my duty ... and I pray my Creator in His infinite mercy to have pity on my poor soul...."
Nothing could exceed the consternation and sorrow which spread through the French camp when the news reached them that Bayard was wounded and in mortal agony. The same feeling was shared by his enemies, for to them the name of Bayard represented the most perfect knight in all the world, the pattern of chivalry whom every true man sought to imitate from afar.
In sad procession the captains of Spain and Italy came to do honour and reverence to the dying hero. Amongst them the Marquis of Pescara (the husband of Vittoria Colonna) found noble words to speak the praise and admiration which filled the hearts of all. "Would to God, my gentle lord of Bayard, that I had been wounded nigh unto death if only you were in health again and my prisoner; for then I could have shown you how highly I esteem your splendid prowess and valour ... since I first made acquaintance with arms I have never heard of any knight who even approached you in every virtue of chivalry.... Never was so great a loss for all Christendom.... But since there is no remedy for death, may God in His mercy take your soul to be with Him...." Such were the tender and pitiful regrets from the hostile camp for the cruel loss to all chivalry of the Good Knight without Fear and without Reproach.
They would have tended him with devoted service, but Bayard knew that he was past all human help, and only prayed that he might not be moved in those last hours of agony. A stately tent was spread out above him to protect him from the weather, and he was laid at rest beneath it with the gentlest care. He asked for a priest, to whom he devoutly made his confession, and with touching words of prayer and resignation to the will of his heavenly Father, he gave back his soul to God on April 30, 1524.
With the greatest sorrow and mourning of both armies, his body was carried to the church, where solemn services were held for him during two days, and then Bayard was borne by his own people into Dauphiné.