name, bold youth?"

"Eustace Lynwood, brother to this Knight," said Eustace, raising his
visor, and panting for breath.

"You need but a few years to nerve your arm. But rest a while, you are
almost spent," said the prisoner, in a kind tone of patronage, as he
looked at the youthful face of his captor, which in a second had varied
from deep crimson to deadly paleness.

"My brother! my brother!" was all Eustace's answer, as he threw himself
on the grass beside Gaston, who, though bleeding fast, had raised his
master's head, and freed him from his helmet; but his eyes were still
closed, and the wound ghastly, for such had been the force of the blow,
that the shoulder was well-nigh severed from the collarbone.
"Reginald! O brother, look up!" cried Eustace. "O Gaston, does he
live?"

"I have crossed swords with him before," said the prisoner. "I grieve
for the mishap." Then, as the soldiers crowded round, he waved them
off with a gesture of command, which they instinctively obeyed. "Back,
clowns, give him air. And here--one of you--bring some water from the
river. There, he shows signs of life."

As he spoke, the clattering of horses' feet was heard--all made way,
and there rode along the bank of the river a band of Spaniards, headed
by Pedro himself, his sword, from hilt to point, streaming with blood,
and his countenance ferocious as that of a tiger. "Where is he?" was
his cry; "where is the traitor Enrique? I will send him to join the
rest of the brood. Where has he hidden himself?"

The prisoner, who had been assisting to life the wounded man out of the
path of the trampling horses, turned round, and replied, with marked
emphasis, "King Henry of Castile is, thanks to our Lady, safe on the
other side of the Zadorra, to recover his throne another day."

"Du Guesclin himself! Ah, dog!" cried Pedro, his eyes glaring with the
malignity of a demon, and raising his bloody weapon to hew down
Bertrand du Guesclin, for no other was the prisoner, who stood with
folded arms, his dark eyes fixed in calm scorn on the King's face, and
his sword and axe lying at his feet.

Eustace was instantly at his side, calling out, "My Lord King, he is my
prisoner!"

"Thine!" said Pedro, with an incredulous look. "Leave him to my
vengeance, and thou shalt have gold--half my treasury--all thy utmost
wishes can reach--"

"I give him up to none but my Lord the Prince of Wales," returned the
young Squire, undauntedly.

"Fool