Nobly did the doomed men redeem their fatal pledge, fighting on even when the battle was lost beyond recovery, to protect their king’s escape. Nor was the heroic self-sacrifice vain; for, just as the last of the gallant band went down, Henry dashed through the ford of the Najarra unpursued, to renew the struggle a few months later, with better fortune.
He might not have got off so well but for a false report of his having made for Navaretta, which drew away most of the English soldiers, who, fired with the hope of a king’s ransom, followed the chase so hotly that they burst pell-mell into the town with the flying Spaniards. The pursuers made at once for Henry’s quarters, where, though they did not find him, they found a rich camp-equipage and service of gold plate, that made every face radiant.
“Here is a bit of glass that sparkles bravely!” cried Wade, pouncing on a diamond worth thousands of pounds—“and set in gold, too! Mayhap ’tis worth a crown or so; and anyhow it will be a gay gaud for my Gillian to wear o’ holidays.”
“This cup for my money!” shouted Ned Smith, seizing a beautifully carved goblet set with jewels. “Marry, how my gossips in merry Hampshire will stare when I show ’em a cup that was used by the King of Castile!”
“I will be content with this,” said old Laneham, clutching a massive gold dish. “I had hoped to put a king or two to ransom ere this job was over; but half a loaf is aye better than no bread.”
Meanwhile the Claremont twins, swept toward the river by the rush of flight and pursuit, heard all at once a well-known war-cry amid a whirl of struggling figures and clashing weapons, and, flying to the spot, they found three or four French knights fighting desperately, back to back, against a throng of English and Gascon soldiers. Foremost was a short, sturdy form in black armour, wielding a mighty axe, which dealt death at every blow.
“Slay him! Cut him down!” roared a big Gascon, springing back just in time from the fatal weapon.
“Nay! Take him alive for ransom!” shouted an Englishman. “He must be a knight of renown.”
“Yield, noble Du Guesclin!” cried Alured, bursting through the press. “We have won the day, and thou canst do no more!”
But his kindly words were lost in the hideous din, and Bertrand, seeing him come rushing on, mistook him for a new foe. The fatal axe flashed and fell once more, and down went Alured beneath the blow of his old friend.