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came to grips。〃
The Breton leader had marshaled his men in a line opposite to the
English； and now he strode forward and shook Bambro' by the hand。
〃By Saint Cadoc！ this is a very joyous meeting； Richard；〃 said
he； 〃and we have certainly hit upon a very excellent way of
keeping a truce。〃
〃Indeed； Robert；〃 said Bambro'； 〃we owe you much thanks； for I can
see that you have been at great pains to bring a worthy company
against us this day。 Surely if all should chance to perish there
will be few noble houses in Brittany who will not mourn。〃
〃Nay； we have none of the highest of Brittany；〃 Beaumanoir
answered。 〃Neither a Blois； nor a Leon； nor a Rohan； nor a Conan；
fights in our ranks this day。 And yet we are all men of blood and
coat…armor； who are ready to venture our persons for the desire of
our ladies and the love of the high order of knighthood。 And now；
Richard； what is your sweet will concerning this fight？〃
〃That we continue until one or other can endure no longer； for
since it is seldom that so many brave men draw together it is
fitting that we see as much as is possible of each other。〃
〃Richard； your words are fair and good。 It shall be even as you
say。 For the rest； each shall fight as pleases him best from the
time that the herald calls the word。 If any man from without
shall break in upon us he shall be hanged on yonder oak。〃
With a salute he drew down his visor and returned to his own men；
who were kneeling in a twinkling； many colored group whilst the
old bishop gave them his blessing。
The heralds rode round with a warning to the spectators。 Then
they halted at the side of the two bands of men who now stood in a
long line facing each other with fifty yards of grass between。
The visors had been closed； and every man was now cased in metal
from head to foot； some few glowing in brass； the greater number
shining in steel。 Only their fierce eyes could be seen smoldering
in the dark shadow of their helmets。 So for an instant they stood
glaring and crouching。
Then with a loud cry of 〃Allez！〃 the herald dropped his upraised
hand； and the two lines of men shuffled as fast as their heavy
armor would permit until they met with a sharp clang of metal in
the middle of the field。 There was a sound as of sixty smiths
working upon their anvils。 Then the babel of yells and shouts
from the spectators； cheering on this party or that； rose and
swelled until even the uproar of the combat was drowned in that
mighty surge。
So eager were the combatants to engage that in a few moments all
order had been lost and the two bands were mixed up in one furious
scrambling； clattering throng； each man tossed hither and thither；
thrown against one adversary and then against another； beaten and
hustled and buffeted； with only the one thought in his mind to
thrust with his spear or to beat with his ax against anyone who
came within the narrow slit of vision left by his visor。
But alas for Nigel and his hopes of some great deed！ His was at
least the fate of the brave； for he was the first to fall。 With a
high heart he had placed himself in the line as nearly opposite to
Beaumanoir as he could； and had made straight for the Breton
leader； remembering that in the out set the quarrel had been so
ordered that it lay between them。 But ere he could reach his goal
he was caught in the swirl of his own comrades； and being the
lighter man was swept aside and dashed into the arms of Alain de
Karanais； the left…handed swordsman； with such a crash that the
two rolled upon the ground together。 Light footed as a cat； Nigel
had sprung up first； and was stooping over the Breton Squire when
the powerful dwarf Raguenel brought his mace thudding down upon
the exposed back of his helmet。 With a groan Nigel fell upon his
face； blood gushing from his mouth； nose； and ears。 There he lay；
trampled over by either party； while that great fight for which
his fiery soul had panted was swaying back and forward above his
unconscious form。
But Nigel was not long unavenged。 The huge iron club of Belford
struck the dwarf Raguenel to the ground； while Belford in turn was
felled by a sweeping blow from Beaumanoir。 Sometimes a dozen were
on the ground at one time； but so strong was the armor； and so
deftly was the force of a blow broken by guard and shield； that
the stricken men were often pulled to their feet once more by
their comrades； and were able to continue the fight。
Some； however； were beyond all aid。 Croquart had cut at a Breton
knight named Jean Rousselot and had shorn away his shoulder…piece；
exposing his neck and the upper part of his arm。 Vainly he tried
to cover this vulnerable surface with his shield。 It was his
right side； and he could not stretch it far enough across； nor
could he get away on account of the press of men around him。 For
a time he held his foemen at bay； but that bare patch of white
shoulder was a mark for every weapon； until at last a hatchet sank
up to the socket in the knight's chest。 Almost at the same moment
a second Breton； a young Squire named Geoffrey Mellon； was slain
by a thrust from Black Simon which found the weak spot beneath the
armpit。 Three other Bretons； Evan Cheruel； Caro de Bodegat； and
Tristan de Pestivien； the first two knights and the latter a
squire； became separated from their comrades； and were beaten to
the ground with English all around them； so that they had to
choose between instant death and surrender。 They handed their
swords to Bambro' and stood apart； each of them sorely wounded；
watching with hot and bitter hearts the melee which still surged
up and down the field。
But now the combat had lasted half an hour without stint or rest；
until the warriors were so exhausted with the burden of their
armor； the loss of blood； the shock of blows； and their own
furious exertions； that they could scarce totter or raise their
weapons。 There must be a pause if the combat was to have any
decisive end。 〃Cessez！ Cessez！ Retirez！〃 cried the heralds； as
they spurred their horses between the exhausted men。
Slowly the gallant Beaumanoir led the twenty…five men who were
left to their original station； where they opened their visors and
threw themselves down upon the grass； panting like weary dogs； and
wiping the sweat from their bloodshot eyes。 A pitcher of wine of
Anjou was carried round by a page； and each in turn drained a cup；
save only Beaumanoir who kept his Lent with such strictness that
neither food nor drink might pass his lips before sunset。 He
paced slowly amongst his men； croaking forth encouragement from
his parched lips and pointing out to them that among the English
there was scarce a man who was not wounded； and some so sorely
that they could hardly stand。 If the fight so far had gone
against them； there were still five hours of daylight； and much
might happen before the last of them was laid upon his back。
Varlets had rushed forth to draw away the two dead Bretons； and a
brace of English archers had carried Nigel from the field。 With
his own hands Aylward had unlaced the crushed helmet and had wept
to see the bloodless and unconscious face of his young