"That I know, fair sir."
"Then bear thyself like a true soldier. But here comes the French herald. List to what he hath to say, for 'tis of much import."
Even in his distress Geoffrey craned his neck to see the meeting twixt the victorious king and the representative of the conquered foe.
The French knight was magnificently harnessed in a suit of white armour, over which was a tabard emblazoned with the royal arms of France. He was unarmed and unhelmed, for he bore his casque in his right hand. Alighting from his palfrey, he threw the reins to an attendant, and accompanied by two pages, advanced to where Henry stood, clad in his soiled and dented armour, surrounded by his lords and chief officers.
"I am Denis Mountjoye, King-at-Arms, and a loyal servant to my master King Charles, on whose account am I here."
"Greetings, herald," exclaimed the King courteously. "We would fain know thy errand."
"I crave permission to bury our dead, sire."
"First tell us, herald: to whom belongs this victory—to us or to the King of France?"
"To you, sire."
"And yon castle—what name does it bear?"