The squires’ conversation, and themselves as well, came to a sudden stop, for the King and his suite had halted in front of them.
Almost in their way, on the ground lay a wounded man. His visor was raised, and his face visible; but his surcoat was slashed and covered with mire and blood, so that the eye could no longer discern the device embroidered on it. A scallop-shell fastened to his helmet, intimated that he had at some past time been a pilgrim to the shrine of Saint James of Compostella; while the red cross upon his shoulder was an indisputable indication that he “came from the East Countrie.” His age would have been difficult to guess. It did not seem to be years which had blanched the hair and beard, and had given to the face a wearied, travel-worn look—a look which so changed the countenance from what it might otherwise have been, that even
”—The mother that him bare,
If she had been in presence there,
She had not known her child.” Marmion.
Close to the dying man lay, apparently, his squire—dead; and beside him was a shield, turned with its face to the ground.
“The very same knight whom we saw a-riding down the knoll!” said one of the squires, with an oath. A man was thought very pious in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries if he did not swear pretty freely. “At least I ween it be the same—I should wit well the shield an’ I could see it.”
King Henry and his nobles were attentively contemplating the wounded knight.
“Light down, my Lord Marnell,” said the King, “and see what is the device upon yon shield. We would know which of our faithful servants we have unhappily lost.”
As the King spoke, the eyes of the dying man suddenly turned to Geoffrey Marnell, who sprang lightly from his horse to fulfil the royal order. He knelt down by the shield, and lifted it up to examine the arms; and as he turned it, the well-known cognisance of Pynson of Pynsonlee—the three silver arrows—met his eye. An exclamation of mingled sorrow and surprise burst from Geoffrey’s lips.
“Who is he?” said Henry, eagerly.
“Sir Richard Pynson of Pynsonlee, an’t please your Grace.”