“Thou art indeed the good angel of my destiny,” said Ian; but he spake not more at that time, as the fight was heavy upon him.
Then were the English guns turned upon the English host and fear got hold of them, brave men though they were, for that they were taken behind and before; and as they shook and hesitated the Duke with the two hundred that were left to him charged toward them from the rear. And Aline went ever at his side.
But the English horse made haste to come at him from far on their own right, and take him in flank, or ever he closed with those on foot. And as the English foot turned, some this way toward the Scottish horse, and some that way toward the Scottish foot, a mighty shout arose in the Scottish ranks as they closed with the English; “Now are they delivered into our hands,” and they waxed ever more terrible till confusion fell upon the men of England and the half of them broke and fled and thus hindered the more part of their own horsemen from coming at the Duke.
So he fell upon the other half and victory came on a sudden into his hands; for all the English were now in flight and the left wing of their horse that would have taken the Duke in flank fled also.
And as he thanked God for his triumph he looked back and his heart failed him, and he shuddered and his breath stood still, for Aline was no longer to be seen, in that the grey horse had gone down at the last.
As he gazed his head swam and darkness came over him. Victory was his, but Aline was lost. He calmed himself and held his spirit in check and even as the wind races over the hills, his thoughts passed through him. “The enemy is scattering on every side. My work for my country is done and therefore may I now turn to that which concerneth my own life.”
There was not a moment to be let slip, the remnant of the right wing of the foemen’s horse was still unbroken, and although too late now to effect their purpose, yet, if so be that Aline were still alive, they would pass over the very ground where she must be lying or ever a man might run thither, however swiftly he sped.
He swung round and galloped apace, and there, dead upon the earth, was the grey horse, and by it, on the side next the foe, lay stretched the fair slim page still clutching the banner with the silver fesse.
“Surely it will be my own death,” he said, as the horsemen bore down upon him. For an instant the thought unnerved him, but natheless he was at her side. “What matter,” he cried, “the day is won, my work is done, and, Aline dead, of what avail is life to me?”
He leaped from his horse. It was too late; even now they were upon him; he might not lift her to the saddle and bear her away.