“Then,” faltered the stout bowman, “in a moment both swords were out, and the fray began. We all ran like madmen to part them; but——”
Here the brave man’s overtasked firmness fairly gave way, and the fatal words that he tried to utter were lost in a convulsive gasp.
“Enough, good friend. I understand thee,” said Prince Edward, kindly. “It was Sir Hugo, then, who fell. But what of the unhappy Sir Alured, whom God pity and forgive?”
“He dashed away as if pursued by the Evil One himself; and just then back came Sir Simon, who had seen from afar, belike, what had befallen.”
“Ha!” cried the prince again, in the same peculiar tone as before.
“Then shouted Sir Simon to us, ‘What do ye, knaves, letting yon felon knight escape?’ And he pointed after the traitor Flanderkin, who, seeing none left to guard him, was making his escape like a false rogue as he was, in spite of his plighted word. ‘After him speedily, and see he escape ye not. I will follow my nephew.’
“As he spake thus, he turned and rode off after Sir Alured, while we chased the Fleming and caught him; for we must needs obey Sir Simon’s command, though certain of us had our own thoughts of the matter.”
“And what were thy thoughts of it?” asked Prince Edward, turning suddenly on him, and looking him full in the face.
The rough soldier replied only by shuffling uneasily with his feet, and twisting his fingers nervously into each other, while his eyes shrank away from the piercing glance fixed on him.
“I ask thee, friend,” repeated the prince, in a tone which there was no gainsaying, “what were thy thoughts on this matter? And I charge thee, as thou art loyal subject and true Englishman, to answer me truly.”