al result of the battle, for
as soon as the knights had burst through the circle of his opponents,
he sank insensible on the body of the grand master. When he came to
himself, he was lying on a bed in the hospital of the Order. As soon
as he moved, Ralph Harcourt, who was, with other knights, occupied
in tending the wounded, came to his bedside. "Thank God that you are
conscious again, Gervaise! They told me that it was but faintness and
loss of blood, and that none of your wounds were likely to prove mortal,
and for the last twelve hours they have declared that you were asleep:
but you looked so white that I could not but fear you would never wake
again."

"How is the grand master?" Gervaise asked eagerly. Ralph shook his head.

"He is wounded sorely, Gervaise, and the leech declares that one at
least of his wounds is mortal; still, I cannot bring myself to believe
that so great a hero will be taken away in the moment of victory, after
having done such marvels for the cause not only of the Order, but of all
Christendom."

"Then you beat them back again from the breach?" Gervaise said.

"That was not all. They were in such confusion that we sallied out,
captured their camp, with the pasha's banner and an enormous quantity of
spoil, and pursued them to their harbour. Then we halted, fearing that
they might in their desperation turn upon us, and, terribly weakened as
we were by our losses, have again snatched the victory from our grasp.
So we let them go on board their ships without interference, and this
morning there is not a Turkish sail in sight. The inhabitants are well
nigh mad with joy. But elated as we are at our success, our gladness is
sorely damped by the state of the grand master, and the loss of so many
of our comrades, though, indeed, our langue has suffered less than any
of the others, for the brunt of the attacks on St. Nicholas and the
breach did not fall upon us, still we lost heavily when at last we
hurried up to win back the wall from them."

"Who have fallen?" Gervaise asked.

"Among the principal knights are Thomas Ben, Henry Haler, Thomas
Ploniton, John Vaquelin, Adam Tedbond, Henry Batasbi, and Henry Anlui.
Marmaduke Lumley is dangerously wounded. Of the younger knights, some
fifteen have been killed, and among them your old enemy Rivers. He died
a coward's death, the only one, thank God, of all our langue. When
the fray was thickest Sir John Boswell marked him crouching behind the
parapet.