"You showed little wisdom in stumbling on us to-day," said Roger. "You would have been better off with your own leader."
"At least I make one more!"
"Yes," he replied, "and a pity too. But come along, you will ride with us, and I promise we will not disgrace you. A fair field for a charge, Edward!" addressing one of his comrades.
"I would rather it were a pitched battle," replied the other; "with our numbers we can do no more than ride them down."
"The Prince! The Prince!" cried one, and presently Condé came riding along our ranks. He had opened his helmet; his face was full of high resolve, his eyes flashed fire.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "here is the chance for which we have waited. Let us begin the campaign with a victory, and we shall finish it the sooner."
We greeted his words with a cheer; the English shouted "Hurrah!" which sounded strangely in our ears, and every one gripped his sword firmly. For, in spite of cheers, and of brave looks, a desperate enterprise lay before us. Monseigneur's troops were at least twice as numerous as ours, and his men were seasoned soldiers.
But Condé gave us little time for reflection. "Forward! Forward!" We rose in our stirrups, and with a ringing cheer dashed at the foe. Like a wall of rock they stood, and our front rank went down before them. We withdrew a space, and once more sprang forward, but with the same result. The din was terrific; steel clashed against steel; horses neighed, men groaned in agony, or shouted in triumph.
And presently, above the tumult, we heard Condé's voice ringing high and clear, "To me, gentlemen! To me!"
He was in the thick of the press, cutting a passage for himself, while numbers of his bodyguard toiled after him.