But Edward knew more of battles than most of his officers. He replied coolly—
“Is the prince slain?”
“No.”
“Is he wounded?”
“No.”
“Is he struck down?”
“No.”
“Then go, tell him the battle he has won so far shall be his, and his only. To-day he must win his own spurs.”
The words flew like wildfire among the English ranks, and our brave men fought with renewed valour.
That evening, as the sun was getting low in the west, Philip and his host turned their backs on Creçy and fled—all that were left of them—anywhere to be out of the reach of the army of that invincible boy. Horsemen and footmen, bag and baggage, they fled, with the English close at their heels, and never drew rein till night and darkness put an end to the pursuit.