On the instant I forgot all about the boar. I was down from my horse like a flash and at his side. To my horror the fresh blood was flowing in a steady stream from a wide-open gash in his chest. I raised his head and laid it in the hollow of my bended arm and looked around appealingly for help. His lips moved as though he would speak. But no words came. His eye-lids quivered. Then, with a gasp, he fell back.
In the meantime André and De Marsac were at my side. My brother stooped down and spoke to the old Count. That other stood aloof. His glance was turned half-way towards us and half-way towards the woods. The faintest trace of a smile flickered on his face and his eyes beamed as though with inward satisfaction.
“Is he dead?” he demanded finally.
I laid the old Count gently down. André and I stood for a moment with our heads bowed to breathe a prayer.
“He has been killed!” replied my brother with anger and bitterness bursting his heart.
To our amazement De Marsac stepped forward and touched André on the arm.
“You will have to answer for this deed with your life, André La Mar,” he said coldly. “You are the murderer of one of the foremost barons of Normandy!”
CHAPTER VII
THE BLACK PRINCE
André drew back like a man taken unawares as though he would avoid a blow. He stood motionless for a moment to gather his dazed thoughts. A silence fell over us like the hollowness of an empty tomb, with only the long strained cawing of a crow overhead to break the tenseness.