the length
and breadth of their column, announced that they could at last see their
entrapped enemies, while the swelling notes of a hundred bugles and
drums, mixed with the clash of Moorish cymbals, broke forth into a proud
peal of martial triumph. Strange it was to these gallant and sparkling
cavaliers of Spain to look upon this handful of men upon the hill, the
thin lines of bowmen, the knots of knights and men-at-arms with armor
rusted and discolored from long service, and to learn that these were
indeed the soldiers whose fame and prowess had been the camp-fire talk
of every army in Christendom. Very still and silent they stood, leaning
upon their bows, while their leaders took counsel together in front of
them. No clang of bugle rose from their stern ranks, but in the centre
waved the leopards of England, on the right the ensign of their Company
with the roses of Loring, and on the left, over three score of Welsh
bowmen, there floated the red banner of Merlin with the boars'-heads of
the Buttesthorns. Gravely and sedately they stood beneath the morning
sun waiting for the onslaught of their foemen.

"By Saint Paul!" said Sir Nigel, gazing with puckered eye down the
valley, "there appear to be some very worthy people among them. What is
this golden banner which waves upon the left?"

"It is the ensign of the Knights of Calatrava," answered Felton.

"And the other upon the right?"

"It marks the Knights of Santiago, and I see by his flag that their
grand-master rides at their head. There too is the banner of Castile
amid yonder sparkling squadron which heads the main battle. There are
six thousand men-at-arms with ten squadrons of slingers as far as I may
judge their numbers."

"There are Frenchmen among them, my fair lord," remarked Black Simon.
"I can see the pennons of De Couvette, De Brieux, Saint Pol, and many
others who struck in against us for Charles of Blois."

"You are right," said Sir William, "for I can also see them. There is
much Spanish blazonry also, if I could but read it. Don Diego, you know
the arms of your own land. Who are they who have done us this honor?"

The Spanish prisoner looked with exultant eyes upon the deep and serried
ranks of his countrymen.

"By Saint James!" said he, "if ye fall this day ye fall by no mean
hands, for the flower of the knighthood of Castile ride under the banner
of Don Tello, with the chivalry of Asturias, Toledo, Leon, Cordova,
Galicia, and Seville. I se