et, so we
took horse and went out against them. When we drew near them they were
surprised, but they made good cheer among themselves, calling out to
each other: 'If we fly we lose all. It is better to fight on, in the
hopes that the day may be ours.' This was heard by our people in the
van, who cried out to them: 'By Saint George! you speak truth. Evil
befall him who thinks of flying!' So they held their ground like worthy
people for the space of an hour, and there were many there whom it is
always good to meet: Sir Geoffrey himself, and Sir Pepin de Werre, with
Sir John de Landas, old Ballieul of the Yellow Tooth, and his brother
Hector the Leopard. But above all Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont was at great
pains to meet us worthily, and he was at handstrokes with the King for a
long time. Then, when we had slain or taken them, all the prisoners were
brought to a feast which was ready for them, and the knights of England
waited upon them at the table and made good cheer with them. And all
this, Nigel, we owe to you."

The Squire flushed with pleasure at the words. "Nay, most honored lord,
it was but a small thing which I have been able to do. But I thank God
and our Lady that I have done some service, since it has pleased you to
take me with you to the wars. Should it chance--"

But the words were cut short upon Nigel's lips, and he lay back with
amazed eyes staring from his pallid face. The door of his little chamber
had opened, and who was this, the tall stately man with the noble
presence, the high forehead, the long handsome face, the dark, brooding
eyes--who but the noble Edward of England?

"Ha, my little cock of Tilford Bridge, I still bear you in mind," said
he. "Right glad I was to hear that you had found your wits again, and I
trust that I have not helped to make you take leave of them once more."

Nigel's stare of astonishment had brought a smile to the King's lips.
Now the Squire stammered forth some halting words of gratitude at the
honor done to him.

"Nay, not a word," said the King. "But in sooth it is a joy to my
heart to see the son of my old comrade Eustace Loring carry himself so
bravely. Had this boat got before us with news of our coming, then all
our labor had been in vain, and no Frenchman ventured to Calais that
night. But above all I thank you for that you have delivered into my
hands one whom I had vowed to punish in that he has caused us more
scathe by fouler means than any living man. Twice