"Master," croaked a voice into Hugh's ear, "I've seen the swan! Follow me. My arrows are all gone, or I'd have shot him."
"God's truth! show him to me," gasped Hugh, and away they leapt together.
Soon they had outrun even the slaughtering Welsh, and found themselves mingled with fugitives from the French army. But in the gathering twilight none seemed to take any note of them. Indeed every man was engaged in saving his own life and thought that this was the purpose of these two also. Some three hundred yards away certain French knights, mounted, often two upon one horse, or afoot, were flying from that awful field, striking out to the right in order to clear themselves of the cumbering horde of fugitives. One of these knights lagged behind, evidently because his horse was wounded. He turned to look back, and a last ray from the dying sun lit upon him.
"Look," said ****; and Hugh saw that on the knight's shield was blazoned a white swan and that he wore upon his helmet a swan for a crest. The knight, who had not seen them, spurred his horse, but it would not or could not move. Then he called to his companions for help, but they took no heed. Finding himself alone, he dismounted, hastily examined the horse's wound, and, having unbuckled a cloak from his saddle, cast down his shield in order that he might run more lightly.
"Thanks to God, he is mine," muttered Hugh. "Touch him not, ****, unless I fall, and then do you take up the quarrel till you fall."
So speaking he leapt upon the man out of the shadow of some thorns that grew there.
"Lift your shield and fight," said Hugh, advancing on him with raised sword. "I am Hugh de Cressi."
"Then, sir, I yield myself your prisoner," answered the knight, "seeing that you are two and I but one."
"Not so. I take no prisoners, who seek vengeance, not ransom, and least of all from you. My companion shall not touch you unless I fall.
Swift now, the light dies, and I would kill you fighting."
The knight picked up his shield.
"I know you," he said. "I am not he you think."
"And I know you," answered Hugh. "Now, no words, of them there have been enough between us," and he smote at him.
For two minutes or more they fought, for the armour of both was good, and one was full of rage and the other of despair. There was little fine sword-play about this desperate duel; the light was too low for it. They struck and warded, that was all, while Grey **** stood by and watched grimly. Some more fugitives came up, but seeing that blows passed, veered off to the left, for of blows they had known enough that day. The swan knight missed a great stroke, for Hugh leapt aside; then, as the Frenchman staggered forward, struck at him with all his strength. The heavy sword, grasped in both hands, for Hugh had thrown aside his shield, caught his foe where neck joins shoulder and sank through his mail deep into the flesh beneath. Down he went. It was finished.
"Unlace his helm, ****," grasped Hugh. "I would see his face for the last time, and if he still lives----"
**** obeyed, cutting the lashings of the helm.
"By the Saints!" he said presently in a startled voice, "if this be Sir Edmund Acour he has strangely changed."
"I am not Acour, lord of Noyon," said the dying man in a hollow voice.
"Had you given me time I would have told you so."
"Then, in Christ's name, who are you?" asked Hugh, "that wear de Noyon's cognizance?"
"I am Pierre de la Roche, one of his knights. You have seen me in England. I was with him there, and you made me prisoner on Dunwich heath. He bade me change arms with him before the battle, promising me great reward, because he knew that if he were taken, Edward of England would hang him as a traitor, whereas me they might ransom. Also, he feared your vengeance."
"Well, of a truth, you have the reward," said ****, looking at his ghastly wound.
"Where then is Acour?" gasped Hugh.
"I know not. He fled from the battle an hour ago with the King of France, but I who was doomed would not fly. Oh, that I could find a priest to shrive me!"
"Whither does he fly?" asked Hugh again.
"I know not. He said that if the battle went against us he would seek his castle in Italy, where Edward cannot reach him."
"What armour did he wear?" asked ****.
"Mine, mine--a wolf upon his shield, a wolf's head for crest."
Hugh reeled as though an arrow had passed through him.
"The wolf knight, Acour!" he groaned. "And I spared his life."
"A very foolish deed, for which you now pay the price," said ****, as though to himself.
"We met in the battle and he told me," said de la Roche, speaking very slowly, for he grew weak. "Yes, he told me and laughed. Truly we are Fate's fools, all of us," and he smiled a ghastly smile and died.
Hugh hid his face in his hands and sobbed in his helpless rage.
"The innocent slain," he said, "by me, and the guilty spared--by me.
Oh, God! my cup is full. Take his arms, man, that one day I may show them to Acour, and let us be going ere we share this poor knight's fate. Ah! who could have guessed it was thus that I and Sir Pierre should meet and part again."
