sh there was scarce a man who was not wounded, and some
so sorely that they could hardly stand. If the fight so far had gone
against them, there were still five hours of daylight, and much might
happen before the last of them was laid upon his back.

Varlets had rushed forth to draw away the two dead Bretons, and a brace
of English archers had carried Nigel from the field. With his own hands
Aylward had unlaced the crushed helmet and had wept to see the bloodless
and unconscious face of his young master. He still breathed, however,
and stretched upon the grass by the riverside the bowman tended him with
rude surgery, until the water upon his brow and the wind upon his face
had coaxed back the life into his battered frame. He breathed with heavy
gasps, and some tinge of blood crept hack into his cheeks, but still
he lay unconscious of the roar of the crowd and of that great struggle
which his comrades were now waging once again.

The English had lain for a space bleeding and breathless, in no better
case than their rivals, save that they were still twenty-nine in number.
But of this muster there were not nine who were hale men, and some were
so weak from loss of blood that they could scarce keep standing. Yet,
when the signal was at last given to reengage there was not a man upon
either side who did not totter to his feet and stagger forward toward
his enemies.

But the opening of this second phase of the combat brought one great
misfortune and discouragement to the English. Bambro' like the others,
had undone his visor, but with his mind full of many cares he had
neglected to make it fast again. There was an opening an inch broad
betwixt it and the beaver. As the two lines met the left-handed Breton
squire, Alain de Karanais, caught sight of Bambro's face, and in an
instant thrust his short spear through the opening. The English leader
gave a cry of pain and fell on his knees, but staggered to his feet
again, too weak to raise his shield. As he stood exposed the Breton
knight, Geoffrey Dubois the Strong, struck him such a blow with his
ax that he beat in the whole breast-plate with the breast behind it.
Bambro' fell dead upon the ground and for a few minutes a fierce fight
raged round his body.

Then the English drew back, sullen and dogged, bearing Bambro' with
them, and the Bretons, breathing hard, gathered again in their own
quarter. At the same instant the three prisoners picked up such weapons
as were scattered