e the Earl of Warwick, who was with the prince, despatched
Sir Thomas of Norwich to the king, who still remained with his powerful
reserve, to ask for aid.

"Sir Thomas," demanded the king, "is my son killed, overthrown, or
wounded beyond help?"

"Not so, sire," replied the knight, "but he is in a rude fight, and much
needs your aid."

"Go back, Sir Thomas, to those who sent you and tell them from me that
whatsoever happens they require no aid from me so long as my son is in
life. Tell them also that I command them to let the boy win his spurs,
for, God willing, the day shall be his, and the honour shall rest with
him and those into whose charge I have given him."

The prince and those around him were filled with fresh ardour when
they received this message. Each man redoubled his efforts to repel the
forces that were incessantly poured down upon them by the French. On all
sides these pressed around them, striving desperately, but ever in vain,
to break through the solid ranks of the English. The French men-at-arms
suffered, moreover, terribly from the attacks of the Welsh infantry.
These men, clad in thick leather jerkins, nimble of foot, accustomed to
a life of activity, were armed with shortened lances and knives, mingled
fearlessly among the confused mass of French cavalry, creeping beneath
the horses' bellies, standing up when they got a chance, and stabbing
horses and men with their knives and pikes. Many were trampled upon or
struck down, but numbering, as they did, 6000, they pervaded the whole
mass of the enemy, and did terrible execution, adding in no small degree
to the confusion caused by the shower of arrows from the archers within
the circle of the men-at-arms. The instant a French knight fell, struck
from his horse with a battle-axe or arrow, or by the fall of a wounded
steed, the half-wild Welsh were upon him, and slew him before he could
regain his feet.

The slaughter was immense. The Count of Harcourt, with his nephew the
Count D'Aumale and his two gallant sons, fell together, and at last
Charles of Luxembourg, seeing his banner down, his troops routed, his
friends slain, and the day irreparably lost, and being himself severely
wounded in three places, turned his horse and fled, casting off his
rich emblazoned surcoat to avoid recognition. In the meantime Prince
Charles's father, the veteran King of Bohemia, once one of the most
famous warriors of Europe, but now old and blind, sat on horseback a