“My son is not dead and is not wounded,” replied the King, “and I have none to send to his aid. Bid him win his spurs; the day shall yet be his. Look,” he added, pointing through the window-place, “our banners have not given back a spear’s throw, and in front of them the field is paved with dead. I tell you the French break. Back, de Norwich! Back, de Cressi, and bid the Prince to charge!”
Some one thrust a cup of wine into Hugh’s hand. He swallowed it, glancing at the wild scene below, and presently was running with Sir John toward the spot where they saw the Prince’s banner flying. They came to Warwick and told him the King’s answer.
“My father speaks well,” said the Prince. “Let none share our glory this day! My lord, form up the lines, and when my banner is lifted thrice, give the word to charge. Linger not, the dark is near, and either France or England must go down ere night.”
Forward rolled the French in their last desperate onset; horse and foot mingled together. Forward they rolled almost in silence, the arrows playing on their dense host, but not as they did at first, for many a quiver was empty. Once, twice, thrice the Prince’s banner bowed and lifted, and as it rose for the third time there rang out a shout of:
“Charge for St. George and Edward!”
Then England, that all these long hours had stood still, suddenly hurled herself upon the foe. Hugh, leaping over a heap of dead and dying, saw in front of him a knight who wore a helmet shaped like a wolf’s head and had a wolf painted upon his shield. The wolf knight charged at him as though he sought him alone. An arrow from behind—it was Grey Dick’s—sank up to the feathers in the horse’s neck, and down it came. The rider shook himself clear and began to fight. Hugh was beaten to his knee beneath a heavy blow that his helm turned. He rose unhurt and rushed at the knight, who, in avoiding his onset, caught his spur on the body of a dead man and fell backward.
Hugh leapt on to him, striving to thrust his sword up beneath his gorget and make an end of him.
“Grace!” said the knight in French, “I yield me.”
“We take no prisoners,” answered Hugh, as he thrust again.
“Pity, then,” said the knight. “You are brave, would you butcher a fallen man? If you had tripped I would have spared you. Show mercy, some day your case may be mine and it will be repaid to you.”