HOW I RESCUED MY WORST ENEMY
At the time when John of Valois, fighting on foot, with his battle-axe
in his hand, rallied his broken ranks, and made that sudden and
unexpected attack on the Prince of Wales which, for a moment,
threatened to change the fortune of the field, I, Arthur Winram, was
separated from the comrades in arms with whom I had charged, and
whirled to where the English and French were confused, intermingled,
and dealing blows without being well aware whether they were aimed at
friends or foes. At this crisis I found myself engaged in hand-to-hand
conflict with Sir John de Saintré; and albeit he was esteemed the most
accomplished knight in France, I contrived not only to return blow
for blow, but to press him so hard that he was not sorry when we were
separated by the crowd. Much to my disappointment, I could not take him
prisoner, and, falling into other hands, however, he was well treated;
but his wounds and bruises ruined his health, and he never recovered
from the effects of the combat.
By that time the Earl of Warwick had come to the relief of the prince,
and the French, scattered by the charge, were flying in crowds towards
Poictiers; but the citizens of Poictiers shut their gates, and would
suffer no one to enter; and a fearful struggle took place on the
causeway, where the French were so hard pressed that they surrendered
without hesitation.
One party, however, who seemed to have no inclination to yield, were
contending desperately with an Englishman of rank, whose violent temper
had placed him in great jeopardy. Indeed, he was not only sore beset,
but beaten from his horse, and already with one knee on the ground. Nor
could there be any mistake as to who he was. I had no doubts on that
point. I knew at once, by his splendid armour, by his lion crest, and
by the armorial bearings on his surcoat, that he was Roger, Lord De
Ov; and, regarding him at that moment simply as an Englishman in peril
of dying under the weapons of the enemies of his country, I shouted,
"St. George! St. George!" and spurred in to the rescue. As I not only
cleared a space around me by the vehemence of my charge, but sent the
assailants, with one exception, flying back, my sword descended on a
squire of prodigious strength, with such effect that he measured his
length on the ground.
"Yield thee, Sir Squire!" said I, leaping from my steed.
"What is your name, and who are you?" asked he somewhat fiercely.
"My name is Arthur Winram, and I am a squire of England," I answered.
"I surrender to you," said the squire: and, as he rose, I recognised
Eustace the Strong, whom I had seen at the Castle of Mount Moreville,
and who had performed the feat of carrying the ass, with its panniers
full of billets, into the hall, and flinging it on the dogs of the
hearth.
"In truth, Eustace," said I, after we exchanged greeting, "it is
strange that you should be my prisoner, and still stranger that I
should have taken you while rescuing my worst enemy."
Meanwhile Lord De Ov had recovered his feet, and as I turned round, he
was regarding me with a scowl of hate.
"Varlet!" said he, "deem not that I hold myself in the least measure
grateful to you; for I swear by my father's soul that I would rather
have died ten deaths than owed life to your interference."
"My lord," replied I, as I prepared to mount my horse and conduct my
prisoner to a place of safety, "you owe no gratitude to me for saving
your life, for I can easily understand how miserable the life of such
as you are must be, with kindred blood shed by your father on your
hands, and on your conscience the crime of having robbed the widow and
disinherited the orphan. Come, my lord, you see I am better informed as
to the state of your mind than you supposed."
"Dog!" exclaimed he, as furious with rage, he drew his sword, "draw,
and let us fight it out! I can no longer brook the sight of you, or
tread the same earth, or breathe the same air."
But I folded my arms on my breast, and gazed at him with a calm scorn
before which his eye fell and the point of his sword dropped.
"Nevertheless, Lord Roger De Ov," said I, "such penance you must
continue to do for the sins of your father and your own until it is my
good pleasure to relieve you. The time is not yet come; but it will
some day; and then may God have mercy on your soul, proud lord, for
your body will be mine!"
And, leaving him standing as if transfixed to the ground, I sprang upon
my steed, and rode away with Eustace the Strong towards the spot where
the prince had placed his banner on a bush and caused his squires to
pitch his red pavilion.