s; while, for my own part, seeing a knight assailed by a
knot of clubmen, I struck in on his part, for gentle blood must ever aid
gentle blood, and so, not without shrewd blows on my salade, I took to
ransom Messire Collart de Bertancourt.

Thereafter, very late, and in the twilight of October the twenty-fifth,
we turned back to Compiegne, leaving the enemies' bastille in a flame
behind us, while in front were blazing the bonfires of the people of the
good town. And, in Compiegne, we heard how the English and the main army
of Burgundians had turned, late in the day, and crossed by the Duke of
Burgundy's bridge, leaving men to keep guard there. So our victory was
great, and wise had been the prudence of the French captains, subtlety
being the mother of victory; for, without a blow struck, they had kept
Jean de Luxembourg, and the Earls of Huntingdon and Arundel, waiting idle
all day, while their great bastille was taken by Xaintrailles and the
townsfolk, and food was brought into Compiegne. Thus for the second time
I passed a night of joy in a beleaguered town, for there was music in
every street, the churches full of people praising God for this great
deliverance, men and maids dancing around bonfires, yet good watch was
kept at the gates and on the towers. Next day we expected battle, but
our spies brought in tidings that Burgundians and English had decamped in
the dawn, their men deserting. That day was not less joyful than the
night had been; for at Royaulieu, in the abbey where Jean de Luxembourg
had lain, the townsfolk found all manner of meat, and of wine great
plenty, so right good cheer we made, for it cost us nothing.

CHAPTER XXVIII--HOW THE BURGUNDIANS HUNTED HARES, WITH THE END OF THAT
HUNTING

"Tell me, what tidings of him?" Barthelemy Barrette asked me, on the day
after that unbought feast at Royaulieu.

He was sitting in the noonday sun on the bridge of Compiegne, and strange
it was to see the place so battered yet so peaceful after five months of
war. The Oise sliding by and rippling on the piers was not more quiet
than this bridge of many battles, yet black in places with dried-up blood
of men slain. "Tidings can I find none," I answered. "He who saw the
cordelier last was on guard in the boulevard during the great charge. He
marked Brother Thomas level his couleuvrine now and again, as we ran for
the bastille, and cried out to him to aim higher, for that the ball would
go amongst us