The Winning of the Golden Spurs

by Percy F. Westerman

Before the Englishmen could realise their danger the keen blade of the Italian had cleft the skull of the nearest. Preventing himself from turning like a sack at the end of a rope, Spinola stretched out his left hand to steady himself against the side of the vessel, while he raised his right arm to repeat the deadly stroke. One of the men-at-arms seized his opportunity, and floundering in on the knight's blind side, smashed his gauntleted left hand into a shapeless mass by a blow from his maul.

With a roar of agony and fury his arm fell helpless against his side, his body swung round, and in a moment the heavy hammer again descended, this time on the visor of the knight's bascinet. With a groan the Genoese died—literally at the rope's end; and, their work accomplished, the five Englishmen began their hazardous retreat, leaving the body of their hapless companion slowly sinking in the pitiless mire.

Again the covering flight of arrows sped towards the galley; but, with the courage of despair, some of the Genoese crossbowmen sprang upon the towering forecastle and fired at the retreating men-at-arms. One of the latter fell with a heavy bolt between his shoulder-blades; another had a shaft completely transfixing his arm, while their intrepid leader was menaced by two of the best crossbowmen of the galley.

By pure chance a stray arrow pierced the brain of one of the Genoese just as he was about to pull the trigger. As he fell he struck his companion, whose aim was affected by the sudden jolt, and the quarrel flew aimlessly over the Englishmen's heads.

Unable to stand against the arrows of the English bowmen, the remainder of the Genoese again sought shelter in the waist, and, amid the cheers of their comrades, the four men-at-arms regained the shore.

All that night the English slept on their arms, sentinels being posted to give the alarm should any of the foemen attempt to leave their water-logged craft. It was a still, moonless night, and the time of spring tides, and as the water ran inch by inch over the waist of the doomed galley, the watchers could distinctly hear the cries and lamentations, and appeals to the saints, borne on the night air from the demoralised Crew, as they clustered in frightened groups upon the raised forecastle and poop.

At break of day the Englishmen stood at their arms and gazed seaward. There, in the same place, lay the galley, though sunk a little lower in the mud, while her sides were covered with seaweed that on the now falling tide had been caught by the arrows which bristled in her sides.

Plenty of provisions were brought in from the countryside for the English forces, and, seated round roaring fires, for the morning air was sharp even for the time of year, the archers and men-at-arms ate and were merry, while the famished and disheartened Genoese, their stores spoiled by the water in the hold, gazed despairingly on their implacable enemies.

The Constable of Portchester and the Bailiff of Southampton crossed the river about three hours after daybreak, and visited the troops on the east side of the stream, their arrival being greeted with acclamation.

Calling the remnant of the men-at-arms who had so effectually performed their hazardous task, Sir John Hacket thanked them before their comrades and bestowed upon them the promised guerdon.