Directly the advance guard of the fleeing army began to draw near, Raymond rose from the grass and ran swiftly towards the road. The Frenchmen, each intent upon his own safety, rushed past him, throwing off their armour to aid their flight, the mounted fugitives ruthlessly riding down their less fortunate countrymen.
Seated by the roadside was a man-at-arms, who, sorely wounded in the shoulder, was endeavouring to divest himself of his hauberk in order to ease the pain. Actuated both by his own requirements and a feeling of pity, Raymond helped him to unburden himself of the steel-ringed coat, and having donned the Frenchman's discarded armour, he bathed his wound, a deep lance-thrust, with water obtained from a rivulet that ran by the roadside.
After rendering this service he proceeded to complete his own equipment. A heavy sword and a light shield were soon found, and it did not require much effort on the part of the active squire to seize a riderless horse.
With difficulty curbing the restlessness of his newly-acquired steed, Raymond urged it into an adjoining field to avoid being swept away by the panic-stricken horde of fugitives, and eagerly awaited the arrival of the English host.
Soon the tide of fleeing Frenchmen slackened, and the braver spirits, maintaining a running fight, alone remained to uphold the honour of the ill-assorted army of the citizens of Caen.
Suddenly Raymond's attention was drawn to a knot of mailed figures, who, surrounded by a press of Englishmen, fought savagely with the courage of despair. One by one the French mounted men-at-arms and squires fell, till only two knights remained.
The pair, keeping side by side, held their enemies at bay by a shower of blows from sword and mace, till one, his horse slain by a Welshman, who paid for his act by having his head cleft by a back-handed sweep, was dashed to the ground and made prisoner.
On seeing his comrade's fate, the other knight urged his horse through the crowd of assailants and made a dash for the open field, where Raymond awaited the chance to join his friends.
Directly the squire caught sight of his emblazoned surcoat and shield he recognised the Frenchman—it was none other than the Count of Tancarville!
Shaking off his pursuers, who preferred to return to squabble over their rights to the ransom of the captive knight, the Count rode straight for the place where Raymond was concealed. When he was twenty paces off the squire rode forward and barred his way.