As soon as he appeared he was joined by the Duke d'Alençon and the Marshal de Chabannes, both of whom were fully armed and accoutred, and mounted on barded steeds. With them was a throng of knightly personages, composed of the chief officers of the crown, the young nobles ordinarily in attendance upon the king, and the guard.
By this time it had become light, and as François galloped forward with the brilliant cortege we have described into the park, he could see the fugitives from the Castle of Mirabello, pursued by the cavalry of Del Vasto. He could also distinguish Pescara's battalion pouring in through the breach.
“Call forth my men-at-arms, and let the Seneschal d'Armagnac fire upon the insolent foe,” he cried.
Scarcely was the order issued, when D'Armagnac, who had already posted his artillery on a rising ground in the park, opened a terrible fire upon the Spaniards who were passing through the breach, and not only caused great destruction among them, but threw them into such disorder, that they fled for shelter to a hollow where they were safe from the murderous fire.
“Ha! by Saint Denis, they are routed already!” exclaimed the king, laughing. “Charge them!” he added to the Duke d'Alençon, who, on receiving the order, immediately put himself at the head of two companies of horse, and rode towards the hollow, whither the fugitives had retreated.
Meantime, D'Armagnac had kept up such an incessant and well-directed fire, that the entrance of Pescara's battalion through the breach was effectually checked.
Thus the plan of the Spanish general seemed to be foiled, and if the king had contented himself with crushing the troops of Del Vasto, who were now lodged in the Castle of Mirabello, while the breach was rendered impracticable by the artillery, he might have gained the day. But his valorous and impetuous disposition caused him to reject the counsels of prudence. He burned to mingle with the fight.
“By Saint Louis!” he cried to Bonnivet, who was sheathed from head to foot in glittering mail, and bestrode a powerful charger, “I cannot look tamely on and allow the cannon to do the work for me. I must give battle to the foe. I must punish Bourbon's presumption.”
“The enemy is half beaten already, sire,” rejoined Bonnivet. “Pescara's plan has utterly failed. Your majesty has only to strike the blow to complete the victory.”
“I will do it!” exclaimed the chivalrous king. “I should be unworthy of victory if I neglected to ensure it. Bid the army advance. I will give battle to the enemy outside the park.”