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when he saw by the scarlet and silver that the deserter was his
own well…tried squire； William of Montaubon。
〃William！ William！〃 he cried。 〃Surely you would not leave me？〃
But the other's helmet was closed and he could hear nothing。
Beaumanoir saw that he was staggering away as swiftly as he could。
With a cry of bitter despair； he drew into a knot as many of his
braves as could still move； and together they made a last rush
upon the English spears。 This time he was firmly resolved； deep
in his gallant soul； that he would come no foot back； but would
find his death there amongst his foemen or carve a path into the
heart of their ranks。 The fire in his breast spread from man to
man of his followers； and amid the crashing of blows they still
locked themselves against the English shields and drove hard for
an opening in their ranks。
But all was vain！ Beaumanoir's head reeled。 His senses were
leaving him。 In another minute he and his men would have been
stretched senseless before this terrible circle of steel； when
suddenly the whole array fell in pieces before his eyes； his
enemies Croquart； Knolles； Calverly； Belford； all were stretched
upon the ground together； their weapons dashed from their hands
and their bodies too exhausted to rise。 The surviving Bretons had
but strength to fall upon them dagger in hands； and to wring from
them their surrender with the sharp point stabbing through their
visors。 Then victors and vanquished lay groaning and panting in
one helpless and blood…smeared heap。
To Beaumanoir's simple mind it had seemed that at the supreme
moment the Saints of Brittany had risen at their country's call。
Already； as he lay gasping； his heart was pouring forth its thanks
to his patron Saint Cadoc。 But the spectators had seen clearly
enough the earthly cause of this sudden victory； and a hurricane
of applause from one side； with a storm of hooting from the other
showed how different was the emotion which it raised in minds
which sympathized with the victors or the vanquished。
William of Montaubon； the cunning squire； had made his way across
to the spot where the steeds were tethered； and had mounted his
own great roussin。 At first it was thought that he was about to
ride from the field； but the howl of execration from the Breton
peasants changed suddenly to a yell of applause and delight as he
turned the beast's head for the English circle and thrust his long
prick spurs into its side。 Those who faced him saw this sudden
and unexpected appearance。 Time was when both horse and rider
must have winced away from the shower of their blows。 But now
they were in no state to meet such a rush。 They could scarce
raise their arms。 Their blows were too feeble to hurt this mighty
creature。 In a moment it had plunged through the ranks； and seven
of them were on the grass。 It turned and rushed through them
again； leaving five others helpless beneath its hoofs。 No need to
do more！ Already Beaumanoir and his companions were inside the
circle； the prostrate men were helpless； and Josselin had won。
That night a train of crestfallen archers； bearing many a
prostrate figure； marched sadly into Ploermel Castle。 Behind them
rode ten men； all weary； all wounded； and all with burning hearts
against William of Montaubon for the foul trick that he had served
them。
But over at Josselin； yellow gorse…blossoms in their helmets； the
victors were borne in on the shoulders of a shouting mob； amid the
fanfare of trumpets and the beating of drums。 Such was the combat
of the Midway Oak； where brave men met brave men； and such honor
was gained that from that day he who had fought in the Battle of
the Thirty was ever given the highest place and the post of honor；
nor was it easy for any man to pretend to have been there； for it
has been said by that great chronicler who knew them all； that not
one on either side failed to carry to his grave the marks of that
stern encounter。
XXIV。 HOW NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER
My sweet ladye；〃 wrote Nigel in a script which it would take the
eyes of love to read； 〃there hath been a most noble meeting in the
fourth sennight of Lent betwixt some of our own people and sundry
most worthy persons of this country； which ended； by the grace of
our Lady； in so fine a joust that no man living can call to mind
so fair an occasion。 Much honor was gained by the Sieurde
Beaumanoir and also by an Almain named Croquart； with whom I hope
to have some speech when I am hale again； for he is a most
excellent person and very ready to advance himself or to relieve
another from a vow。 For myself I had hoped； with Godde's help； to
venture that third small deed which might set me free to haste to
your sweet side； but things have gone awry with me； and I early
met with such scathe and was of so small comfort to my friends
that my heart is heavy within me； and in sooth I feel that I have
lost honour rather than gained it。 Here I have lain since the
Feast of the Virgin； and here I am like still to be； for I can
move no limb； save only my hand； but grieve not； sweet lady； for
Saint Catharine hath been our friend since in so short a time I
had two such ventures as the Red Ferret and the intaking of the
Reaver's fortalice。 It needs but one more deed； and sickerly when
I am hale once more it will not be long ere I seek it out。 Till
then； if my eyes may not rest upon you； my heart at least is ever
at thy feet。〃
So he wrote from his sick…room in the Castle of Ploermel late in
the summer； but yet another summer had come before his crushed
head had mended and his wasted limbs had gained their strength
once more。 With despair he heard of the breaking of the truce；
and of the fight at Mauron in which Sir Robert Knolles and Sir
Walter Bentley crushed the rising power of Brittany … a fight in
which many of the thirty champions of Josselin met their end。
Then； when with renewed strength and high hopes in his heart he
went forth to search for the famous Croquart who proclaimed
himself ever ready night or day to meet any man with any weapon；
it was only to find that in trying the paces of his new horse the
German had been cast into a ditch and had broken his neck。 In the
same ditch perished Nigel's last chance of soon accomplishing that
deed which should free him from his vow。
There was truce once more over all Christendom； and mankind was
sated with war； so that only in far…off Prussia； where the
Teutonic knights waged ceaseless battle with the Lithuanian
heathen； could he hope to find his heart's desire。 But money and
high knightly fame were needed ere a man could go upon the
northern crusade； and ten years were yet to pass ere Nigel should
look from the battlements of Marienberg on the waters of the
Frische Haff； or should endure the torture of the hot plate when
bound to the Holy Woden stone of Memel。 Meanwhile； he chafed his
burning soul out through the long seasons of garrison life in
Brittany； broken only by one visit to the chateau of the father of
Raoul； when he carried to the Lord of Grosbois the news of how his
son had fallen like a gallant gentleman under the gateway of La
Brohiniere。
And then； then at last； when all hope was well…nigh dead in his
heart； there carne one glorious July morning which brought a
horseman bearing a letter to the Castle of Vannes； of which Nigel
now was seneschal。 It contained but few words； short and clear as
the call of a war…trumpet。 It was Chandos who wrote。 He needed
his Squire at his side； for his pennon was in the breeze once
more。 He was at Bordeaux。 The Prince was starting at once for
Bergerac； whence he would make a great raid into France。 It would
not end without a battle。 They had sent word of their coming； and
the good French King had promised to be at great pains to receive
them。 Let Nigel hasten at once。 If the army had left； then let
him follow after with all speed。 Chandos had three other squires；
but would very gladly see his fourth once again； for he had heard
much of him since he parted； and nothing which he might not have
expected to hear of his father's son。 Such was the letter which
made the summer sun shine brighter and the blue sky seem of a
still fairer blue upon that happy morning in Vannes。
It is a weary way from Vannes to Bordeaux。 Coastwise ships are
hard to find； and winds blow north when all brave hearts would
fain be speeding south。 A full month has passed from the day when
Nigel received his letter before he stood upon the quay…side of
the Garonne amid the stacked barrels of Gascon wine and helped to
lead Pommers down the gang…planks。 Not Aylward himself had a
worse opinion of the sea than the great yellow horse； and he
whinnied with joy as he thrust his muzzle into his master's
outstretched hand； and stamped his ringing hoofs upon the good
firm cobblestones。 Beside him； slapping his tawny shoulder in
encouragement； was the lean spare form of Back Simon who had
remained ever under Nigel's pennon。
But Aylward； where was he？ Alas！ two years before he and the
whole of Knolles' company of archers had been drafted away on the
King's service to Guienne； and since he could not wri