King of France, was sending
constant messengers to hurry on war operations as he was in sore straits.
Bayard was asked to give his opinion, and he modestly replied that he had
only just arrived and others might know more, but as far as he could learn,
the besieged were promised that a large army from Naples and Rome would
come to their help in a few days, certainly before Easter, and this was
Maundy Thursday. "And on the other hand," he added, "our men have no
provisions and the horses are reduced to eating willow leaves, so that each
day's delay makes it worse for us. You see, too, the King our master writes
to us every day to hasten our movements, therefore I advise that we give
battle. But we must use all caution for we have to do with brave and good
fighting men, and we cannot deny the risk and danger. There is one comfort:
the Spaniards have been in Romagna for a year, fed like fish in the water
till they are fat and full, while our men, having undergone much hardship,
have longer breath. Remember that to him who fights longest the camp will
remain."

At this every one smiled, for Bayard always had such a bright and pleasant
way of putting things that men loved to hear him. His advice was followed
and all was made ready for a determined assault on the city next day, which
was Good Friday. The captains and their men set forth in gallant mood, as
though they went to a wedding, and so fierce was the attack of the
artillery that before long a small breach was made in the fortification,
but the defenders fought so well that it was not possible to break through
and at length the retreat was sounded. This was really a fortunate thing,
as if the soldiery had begun pillaging the place the coming battle would
certainly have been lost, and the relieving army was now within two miles
of Ravenna.

It would be too long to follow the whole story of that fierce and desperate
conflict, where both sides fought with the utmost skill and valour. The
Spaniards certainly carried out their usual tactics of constantly taking
aim at the horses of the French riders, for they have a proverb which says:
"When the horse is dead the man-at-arms is lost." Their war-cry was:
"Spain! Spain! St. Iago!" to which the other side replied by another
furious onslaught to the shouts of "France! France!" And wherever the Good
Knight passed, "Bayard! Bayard!" was the clarion note which cheered on his
company, ever in the forefront of battle. The French arti