ck down?"
"No."
"Then go, tell him the battle he has won so far shall be his, and his
only. To-day he must win his own spurs."
The words flew like wildfire among the English ranks, and our brave men
fought with renewed valour.
That evening, as the sun was getting low in the west, Philip and his
host turned their backs on Crecy and fled--all that were left of them--
anywhere to be out of the reach of the army of that invincible boy.
Horsemen and footmen, bag and baggage, they fled, with the English close
at their heels, and never drew rein till night and darkness put an end
to the pursuit.
Meanwhile, there were rejoicing and thanksgiving on the field of Crecy.
The English king hastened from his post of observation, and, in the
presence of the whole army, embraced his brave son, and gave him the
honours of that glorious victory, wherein two kings, eleven princes,
1,200 knights, and 30,000 men had fallen. A sad price for glory!
"Sweet son," said he, "God give you good perseverance. You are my true
and valiant son, and have this day shown yourself worthy of a crown."
And the brave boy bowed low before his father, and modestly disclaimed
the whole glory of the victory.
Loud and long did the loyal knights and soldiers cheer their brave king
and their heroic prince; and when they saw the latter bind on his helmet
the plume of three ostrich feathers, worn by the most illustrious of his
slain foemen, John, King of Bohemia, with the noble motto _Ich dien_ ("I
serve") beneath, their enthusiasm knew no bounds. And the motto has
descended from prince to prince since then, and remains to this day as a
glorious memorial of this famous boy, who earned it by doing his duty in
the face of danger, and setting an example to all about him that "he who
serves rules."
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
HENRY OF MONMOUTH, THE PRINCE WHOM A JUDGE SENT TO PRISON.
A strange crowd thronged the Court of King's Bench one memorable day
four and a half centuries ago. Nobles and commoners alike jostled their
way into the sombre hall, every one intent on securing a good place,
some talking loudly, others arguing angrily, all highly excited and
impatient. It was evident that the trial about to take place was one of
unusual interest and extraordinary importance, for the gloomy court was
not used to be so crowded, and seldom attracted so mixed and so eager a
throng as that which now filled it.
Suddenly a lull fell on the scene, heads w
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