In reply to the shout for aid Geoffrey made his way through the struggling crowds towards the Duke, but ere he could disengage himself, Gloucester was beaten to the earth by a mighty sweep of the Frenchman's battle-axe.
The next instant the King himself had stepped across his brother's prostrate body, and with shield outstretched and ready blade he defended the helpless Duke from the combined assault of the French knights.
But help was at hand. Geoffrey and three others threw themselves upon the King's assailants, Henry directing his attention to the unknown knight of the axe. In this he had enough to do, for the Frenchman's weapon descended with fearful force upon the King of England's helmet. Luckily the blow was a glancing one, yet it clove the golden crown on his bascinet, and brought Henry to his knees.
But the unknown's triumph was short-lived. Regaining his feet the King in turn sent his antagonist reeling to the earth, while, carried away by the heat of the battle, his three subjects were about to slay the man who had so nearly achieved his purpose.
"Hold, I yield! I am Alençon," exclaimed the prostrate knight. But the offer of surrender came too late. Ere the King could stretch forth his hand to protect his enemy, the Duc d'Alençon had received his death-blow.
"Nay, fair sirs," exclaimed the King breathlessly, "I am unhurt; yet, an I were, 'tis no time for condolences."
Henry had spoken truly, for approaching him in a compact body were eighteen knights, each of whom had sworn a solemn oath to kill or take the King of England or perish in the attempt. The Royal Standard of England had served them as a guide only too well.
In an instant Geoffrey was swept to the earth by the desperate rush, one of the knights who had gone to the King's assistance was slain, and Henry with three of his followers was left to meet the determined attack.
Once again the King, defending himself with courage and coolness, was beaten down upon his knees, but others of his supporters came to the rescue, and the eighteen Frenchmen kept their vow—they died to a man.
Slowly Geoffrey extricated himself from the mire and regained his feet. Beyond being sorely bruised he was unhurt, and with the knowledge that the King was safe he plunged again into the press.