"The traitorous Fleming——" began the count, but Richard interrupted him.
"Not traitor to thee," he said. "He is dead indeed; and his trap caught not us, but thee and thy commander. How art thou now, Sieur de Renly? I thank thee for slipping well, else thy good sword had done thee better service."
Like a true gentleman, the brave youth spoke kindly to them all, and their hurts were cared for. The several ransoms for each knight were agreed upon; but they had now no further need for armor, and they were soon appareled only in clothing of wool and linen, or silk and leather, as the case might be.
As for the ships, they had sustained small injury in the fight. Now that it was over, the grapplings were cast off, and each rode the waves on its own account. It was hard to provide skilled crews for both, but a shift was made by dividing the seamen, and by such selections as could be had from among the soldiery. Jack of London was made the sailing master of the Golden Horn, and a seafaring man from Hull was in like manner put in charge of La Belle Calaise.
There was now no crowding of men upon either ship; but there was much care to be given to so many scores of wounded.
The fog had cleared away, and the Golden Horn, with her prize, could make a pretty straight course for La Hogue, thanks to a change in the wind.
"Art thou hurt at all?" asked Guy the Bow, when he next met his young commander.
"Nay," said Richard, "unless bruises and a sore head may count for hurts. But we have lost a third part of our force, killed or wounded."
"Well that we lost not all, and our own lives," said Guy. "'Twas close work for a while. Glad am I that our Lady of Wartmont is to hear no bad news."