CHAPTER XX
HIS LIFE FOR HIS FOE
UNSHEATHING his sword and holding his shield firmly on his left arm,the squire followed the example of the knights and men-at-arms, andhastened towards the left flank.
Already the French cavalry, led by the Duke of Alencon, had, by sheerweight of numbers, forced their way to within striking distance oftheir foes, and the long rows of white-coated archers, who formed thefirst rank of the defence, were swept aside by the rush of themounted French knights, for at close quarters the bowmen were uselessagainst the lances, swords, and axes of their mailed antagonists.
Before Raymond and his companions could throw themselves into thepress, the horsemen had hewn a way right to the foot of the RoyalStandard, beneath which the Prince of Wales and a chosen body ofknights fought with magnificent courage.
The French and German knights, intent on securing the Prince, hurledthemselves in a compact body towards the Standard, and as fast as onewarrior fell, two more took his place, till it seemed that thedesperate bravery of the attackers would attain its purpose.
Raymond found himself engaged by a tall, broad-shouldered antagonist,who bore on his shield the cognisance of the House of Luxemburg. Fora space they rained blows at each other, striving by sheer force tocut down their respective guards, till, by a sweeping blow, theFrenchman shivered the squire's sword, and only by swiftly leapingbackwards was Raymond able to avoid the deadly stroke: So narrow washis escape that the point of the descending blade cut a long, cleangash in his surcoat ere it buried itself a foot deep in the carcaseof a slain charger. Instantly the squire rushed in, struck theLuxemburger with the edge of his shield, then, ere the man couldrecover himself, plunged his dagger to the hilt in his brawny throat.
Without pausing to recover his breath, Raymond rushed towards a groupof French knights who were surrounding a little knot of Englishmen.It was the Prince's own bodyguard, who, hard pressed, strove theirutmost to defend their young master. Sir Reynold Cobham, beaten tothe ground, lay pinned down by the weight of his armour; the Earl ofWarwick, wounded in the face by a lance thrust, was fiercely beset bytwo knights of Cologne, while Edward, though unscathed, was the markof nigh a score of determined Frenchmen. Nimbly avoiding one stroke,parrying another, and diverting a thrust with his shield, the Princefought like a trained veteran rather than a mere lad of fifteen.
At length a knight, armed with a huge double-handed sword, made aswinging cut at the Prince just as the latter had all his attentiondrawn by the fierce onslaught of a mounted knight of Sicily. For themoment it seemed as if nothing could save the Prince from instantdeath; but Raymond, regardless of his own safety, sprang forward, andwith his shield and his own body strove to stay the blow. Theknight's sword struck the squire's shield just above the upperleathern loop that held it to the wearer's arm. The tough metal platewas sheared through as if made of paper, and the blade, glancingupwards against the squire's bascinet, struck the Prince a harmlessblow, merely slicing the crest of his helmet.
Raymond fell at the Prince's feet, but the Constable of Portchester,seeing his squire stricken to the earth, dashed out the swordsman'sbrains with a crashing blow of his mace. For a short space Raymondlay breathless on the ground, then, feeling terribly dazed, he raisedhimself and looked around. To his utmost satisfaction he saw that thePrince of Wales was unhurt. Already the danger was past, for theEarls of Arundel and Northampton had brought up their division to theaid of the sorely pressed Prince, and the attackers, beaten at everypoint, were giving way in headlong flight.
At length the squire staggered to his feet, and, assisted by anarcher of his company, he slowly and painfully made his way towardsthe camp. Darkness was falling, and the English, having been orderedto refrain from hazardous pursuit, stood in their ranks, while a vastplain, dotted with thousands of corpses, of which but few wore thered cross surcoats, silently testified to the hard-fought fight.
As Raymond passed the ranks of his own company Sir John Hacket cameforward and grasped him by the hand.
"My brave squire," he exclaimed. "Right nobly hast thou borne thyselfthis day. The Prince hath spoken highly of thy courage and devotion,and, without doubt, tidings of thy deeds will come to the cars of theKing. But, Raymond," he added sadly, "I have ill tidings for thee."
"My father?" gasped the squire, reading the Constable's unspokenwords.
"Ay, my boy, 'tis thy father. He fell in the thickest of the fight,and thou hast lost a noble sire and I a brave soldier. Now, bear up,Raymond, and get thee to the camp and attend to thy hurts, for thouwilt be required anon."
Wounded in body and mind, the young squire was led to the camp, whereit was found that the Frenchman's sword had driven the stout steelbascinet heavily against his temple, leaving a dark blue bruise toshow how near he had been to death. Simple remedies were applied,and, having divested himself of his armour, Raymond recovered himselfsufficiently to set out to find the body of his father, bearing atorch to aid him in his quest.
He remembered well the place where he had last seen him, close to alittle stunted thorn that grew on the edge of the slope which thePrince's division had held so well.
A veritable mound of bodies showed how firmly the archers had stood,and how fierce had been the contest, for in a circle around the treelay a heap of red-crossed surcoats, their wearers lying still indeath with their faces to the foe, while around lay the bodies oftheir attackers, three deep in places, their rich dress and armourproving that the flower of French chivalry was unable to vanquish,although it had broken through, that double line of English archersand men-at-arms.
The men of the Hampshire companies had suffered more severely thanany, and Raymond, as he pursued his quest, came across many faceswhich he sadly recognised.
Here and there, dotted over the ghastly field, were feeble glimmersof torches showing that others were engaged in the doleful task oflooking for their fallen comrades, though in some instances ghoulswere engaged in their dastardly work of robbing the dead.
At length the ruddy glare of the torch threw its beams upon the formwhich Raymond recognised only too well. Stretched on his back, hissightless eyes staring up at the starry sky, lay Redward, the outlawand master-bowman, the body bearing the ghastly traces of eightseparate wounds, all of which were in front, proving that to the lasthe had fought with his face to the foe.
Sorrowfully Raymond gazed upon his slain sire; then, realising thatthe sooner he performed the last rites there would be the less chanceof the spoiler's fell work, he proceeded to carefully remove the bodyto the shelter of the stunted tree, so that he could return to thecamp to find, if possible, the priest attached to the company.
As he lifted the heavy corpse he was startled to hear a feeble voiceexclaim, "Blessings on thy kindness, noble sir; I pray thee assistme."
Recovering from his astonishment, the squire discovered, pinnedbeneath his father's body, a wounded knight. Swiftly Raymond bent tohis aid, and, cutting asunder the laces of his bascinet, he found thestranger to be none other than Sir Reginald Scarsdale!
"Faith! I did think this would have been the end of me," quoth theknight. "Hast a draught of wine?"
Raymond shook his head. "I am returning to the camp, an' if it pleasethee, I'll help thee back to thy company."
"Do so, squire, for, what with a crack over the head with aFrenchman's mace, and the weight of yon bowman atop o' me, I feel tooweak to stand of mine own will. What dost thou here?"
"Yonder lies my father."
"Thy father? By St. Wilfrid of Ripon, he was a gallant man! Had henot stood over me the rascals would have settled my account. I praythee tell me his name?"
For a moment Raymond paused, then, in a sudden outburst ofconfidence, he exclaimed, "Redward Revyngton!"
"What! Redward Revyngton! And to think that the man whom I, with amad desire for vengeance, hounded out of the country should havegiven his life for me! Did he wot whom I was?"
"Ay," said Raymond. "For but a few hours agone he and I saw thee inconverse
with his brother, Sir Maurice."
"Then out on me for my revengeful spirit! When it lay in his power tothrust me through the back with a dagger, or even to let me be slainby my enemies, what did he do? He saved my life! This indeed isrendering good for evil."
"And ye forgive him his trespass?"
"Ay, young squire. Right willingly."
"Then in my sorrow I thank Heaven," replied Raymond, and in silencethey returned slowly to the camp, Sir Reginald leaning heavily on thearm of the outlaw's son.
The moment the wounded knight was given into safe hands Raymondhastened to his quarters, where he enlisted the services of thepriest and four stout archers. The latter took spades and torcheswith them, and the melancholy procession set out for the scene ofRedward's last stand, Raymond with Sir John Hacket, who wished to payhis last respects to his trusted servant, leading the way.
Rapidly the bowmen plied their spades, and soon a deep grave gaped atthe foot of the solitary thorn. Raymond bent and kissed the coldbrow, then, amid the solemn voice of the priest reciting the psalm,_Domine, refugium_, the body of the brave old master-bowman was laidto rest.
Bare-headed and dry-eyed, Raymond watched the dark earth beingshovelled down upon the mortal remains of his sire, then, when thetask was accomplished, he turned and walked slowly back to the camp.There, in the retirement of his tent, his pent-up feelings foundrelief, and throwing himself on the ground, he burst into a flood ofpassionate weeping.