and
these fresh troops, instead of aiding their companions, fled
disgracefully with their commander, the Duke of Orleans. This probably
decided the day.

King John was now seen advancing with his reserve, in numbers still
double the force of the English at the commencement of the battle. He
saw his nobles flying, but though indignant, felt no alarm; then,
dismounting with all his men, he led them, battle-axe in hand, against
the English charge. The black armor of the young leader of the English
rendered him also conspicuous; and, while the French king did feats of
valor enough to win twenty battles if courage could have done all, the
prince was seen raging like a young lion amid the thickest of the
enemy. Knight to knight, and hand to hand, the battle was now fought.
The French were driven back, step by step, till John found himself
nearly at the gates of Poitiers, now shut against him. While, however,
the oriflamme waved over his head, he would not believe the day lost;
but, at length it went down, and his hopes fell with it. Surrounded on
every side by foes eager to make him prisoner, he still wielded his
battle-axe, clearing at each stroke the space around him and his
little son, who had accompanied him through the fatal field. A knight
of Artois, of gigantic height, who had been outlawed and had taken
service with England, seeing that the monarch's life would be lost if
he protracted his resistance, suddenly rushed into the circle.

"Yield, sire, yield!" he exclaimed in French.

"Who art thou?" inquired John.

"I am Denis de Mortbec, a poor knight of Artois," answered the outlaw,
"but now in the service of England, because a banished man from my own
country."

"Well, I yield me to you," cried the king, giving him in sign of
surrender, his right gauntlet.

By this time nothing was seen but dead and dying on the field, with
groups of prisoners, and parties of fugitives escaping over the
distant country. The prince, by the advice of Chandos, now pitched his
banner on a high spot; and, while the trumpets sounded a recall to the
standard he dismounted, and, unbracing his helmet, took a draught of
wine with the band of knights who had accompanied him throughout the
arduous day.

The unfortunate French king was soon brought to him by the Earl of
Warwick and Lord Cobham. The prince received his vanquished adversary
with deep and touching respect. Bending his knee before John, he
called for wine, and, with his own