not here, sir. Yield, and I will bring you to him."

"And who are you?"

"I am Denis of Morbecque, a knight of Artois. I serve the English king,
for I am banished from France, and all I had has been forfeited."

"Then I yield me to you," said the king, handing him his right gauntlet.

Meanwhile the rout of the French had become complete. On all sides they
were in flight; on all sides the English were in pursuit. The prince had
fought until he was overcome with fatigue.

"I see no more banners or pennons of the French," said Sir John Chandos,
who had kept beside him the day through. "You are sore chafed. Set your
banner high in this bush, and let us rest."

The prince's pavilion was set up, and drink brought him. As he quaffed
it, he asked if any one had tidings of the French king.

"He is dead or taken," was the answer. "He has not left the field."

Two knights were thereupon sent to look for him, and had not got far
before they saw a troop of men-at-arms wearily approaching. In their
midst was King John, afoot and in peril, for they had taken him from Sir
Denis, and were quarrelling as to who owned him.

"Strive not about my taking," said the king. "Lead me to the prince. I
am rich enough to make you all rich."

The brawling went on, however, until the lords who had been sent to seek
him came near.

"What means all this, good sirs?" they asked. "Why do you quarrel?"

"We have the French king prisoner," was the answer; "and there are more
than ten knights and squires who claim to have taken him and his son."

The envoys at this bade them halt and cease their clamor, on pain of
their heads, and taking the king and his son from their midst they
brought him to the tent of the prince of Wales, where the exalted
captives were received with all courtesy.

The battle, begun at dawn, was ended by noon. In that time was slain
"all the flower of France; and there was taken, with the king and the
Lord Philip his son, seventeen earls, besides barons, knights, and
squires."

The men returning from the pursuit brought in twice as many prisoners as
their own army numbered in all. So great was the host of captives that
many of them were ransomed on the spot, and set free on their word of
honor to return to Bordeaux with their ransom before Christmas.

The prince and his comrades had breakfasted that morning in dread; they
supped that night in triumph. The supper party, as described by
Froissart, is a true picture of t