"The word of the Lord John of Hainault," I said, "is sufficient, and I rely confidently on his honour."
I now hesitated no longer. Rising, I assisted the Flemish prince to his feet; and, while I surrendered my sword to John of Hainault, with all the grace of which I was master, Louis of Flanders approached the stirrup of Philip of Valois.
"Where is your father, cousin?" asked Philip kindly.
"Alas! sire, he is slain," replied the boy—"slain before my eyes;" and he burst into tears.
"Compose yourself, cousin," said Philip kindly; "it has been the fate of many brave men to die to-day."
"You are right, sire," replied the young count suddenly. "It is no time to mourn; it is more meet to think of vengeance."
"Yes, sire," added John of Hainault; "and, that we may be alive and free to fight another day, let us tarry here no longer. I say, as I have already said, that, if you have lost this battle, another time you may be a conqueror. Let us ride."
"And whither go you?" asked the young Count of Flanders.
"To the castle of La Broyes," answered John of Hainault.