Quentin Durward sighed, but what other alternative remained, and how happy would he have been but an instant before, to have been certain of the escape of Isabelle, even under worse terms? They soon joined the band of Crevecoeur, and the Countess demanded to speak to the leader, who had halted his party till he should reconnoitre the Black Troopers, and as he gazed on her with doubt and uncertainty, she said, “Noble Count—Isabelle of Croye, the daughter of your old companion in arms, Count Reinold of Croye, renders herself, and asks protection from your valour for her and hers.”
“Thou shalt have it, fair kinswoman, were it against a host—always excepting my liege lord, of Burgundy. But there is little time to talk of it. These filthy looking fiends have made a halt, as if they intended to dispute the matter.—By Saint George of Burgundy, they have the insolence to advance against the banner of Crevecoeur! What! will not the knaves be ruled? Damian, my lance!—Advance banner!—Lay your spears in the rest!—Crevecoeur to the Rescue!”
Crying his war cry, and followed by his men at arms, he galloped rapidly forward to charge the Schwarzreiters.
CHAPTER XXIV: THE SURRENDER
Rescue or none, Sir Knight, I am your captive:
Deal with me what your nobleness suggests—
Thinking the chance of war may one day place you
Where I must now be reckon'd—I' the roll
Of melancholy prisoners.
ANONYMOUS
The skirmish betwixt the Schwarzreiters and the Burgundian men at arms lasted scarcely five minutes, so soon were the former put to the rout by the superiority of the latter in armour, weight of horse, and military spirit. In less than the space we have mentioned, the Count of Crevecoeur, wiping his bloody sword upon his horse's mane ere he sheathed it, came back to the verge of the forest, where Isabelle had remained a spectator of the combat. One part of his people followed him, while the other continued to pursue the flying enemy for a little space along the causeway.
“It is shame,” said the Count, “that the weapons of knights and gentlemen should be soiled by the blood of those brutal swine.”
So saying, he returned his weapon to the sheath and added, “This is a rough welcome to your home, my pretty cousin, but wandering princesses must expect such adventures. And well I came up in time, for, let me assure you, the Black Troopers respect a countess's coronet as little as a country wench's coif, and I think your retinue is not qualified for much resistance.”
“My Lord Count,” said the Lady Isabelle, “without farther preface, let me know if I am a prisoner, and where you are to conduct me.”