“Thanks for thy timely aid, my brave lad of England,” said the knight. “But for thee, I had been fairly sped. By what name shall I remember thee?”
“Dickon Greenleaf of Nottingham, an’ it like your worship.”
“I will not forget it,” said the unknown, with a low laugh, which thrilled the stout archer’s nerves so unpleasantly that he instinctively made the sign of the cross.
Just then the too familiar war cry of “St. George for England!” broke out behind the combatants, and told the dismayed French that they were completely hemmed in. The master-mind that guided every turn of that night’s wild work had not forgotten the Neuillet Bridge, and the English force sent to seize it had, after a fight as fierce as that on the causeway itself, effected its purpose, thus cutting off the retreat of De Chargny’s men, who, already weary and out of heart, now gave way altogether.
“Yield, noble Sir Eustace! The toils are around thee and thine,” cried the unknown, who had just come hand-to-hand with De Ribeaumont for the third time. “Thou hast done thy devoir this night as never man did yet, and it is no shame to a good knight to yield when escape is none.”
“Thou say’st sooth,” said the gallant Frenchman, with a faint sigh, “and I shame me not to yield to one like thee. I render me true prisoner, rescue or no rescue, and therewith give I thee my sword.”
“Not so,” cried the unknown, gently putting back the offered weapon. “Sin and shame were it, I trow, to deprive so good a knight of the sword that none else can wield so well. Keep thy good blade, noble sir, and may’st thou draw it on many a more fortunate field than this!”
So chivalrous a compliment, from a foe of such prowess, well-nigh consoled the brave Frenchman for his defeat; but none the less was he eager to learn who this warrior could be, who had not only matched his hitherto invincible sword, but had mastered it too. On that point, however, he was not left long in doubt, for, as his captor led him in through the gate, the light from within fell right on the latter’s now unhelmeted face, and Sir Eustace started to see that his nameless conqueror was no other than King Edward himself!
CHAPTER XII
Crowning an Enemy
The news of the king’s presence flew from mouth to mouth, and stirred the whole garrison to a tumult of joyful surprise, for it had till then been a secret to all but a chosen few. In a flash of that chivalrous daring which was so marked a feature of his strangely mingled character, Edward and his renowned son, the Black Prince, had come over from England in disguise, to fight as simple knights under the banner of Sir Walter de Manny; and while the English made the air ring with shouts at a feat so much after their own heart, the gallant French knights who had been made prisoners had at least the comfort of feeling that they had been overcome by no unworthy hand.