The Lances of Lynwood

the dark-robed figure of a confessor, while at a short distance lay, on a couch of deer-skins, the sleeping Leonard Ashton. Before the looped-up curtain that formed the door was Gaston d'Aubr

hly moonlight, the few glimmering stars, the sky-whose southern clearness and brightness were, to his unaccustomed eye, doubly wonderful-the constant though subdued sounds in the camp, the murmur of the river, and, far away in the dark expanse of night, the sparkling of a multitude of lights, which marked the encampment of the

ce in front of every tent was filled with busy men, arming themselves, or saddling their horses. Gaston and Eustace, already fully equipped, assisted Sir Reginald to arm; Leonard was roused, and began to fasten on his armour; the

ough the camp, caused each mail-clad warrior to close his visor, and spring into the open plain, where, according to previous orders, they arr

m the points of the lances, like the wings of gorgeous insects. Presently a wall of glittering armour was seen advancing to meet them, with the same brilliant display. It might have seemed some mighty tournamen

rince prayed aloud for a blessing on his arms, how he gave the signal for the advance, and how the boaster, Tello, fled in the first encounter. The Lances of Lynwood, in the division of the Duke of Lancaste

enemy, when Sir Reginald drew his rein at the top of a steep bank clothed with brushwood, sloping towards the stream of the Zadorra, threw up his visor

ted over the low shrubs to a level space on the bank of the river, where several fug

his stirrups, and, looking over the wood, exclaimed, "The Eagle crest! I must be there. On, Ashton-Ingram, this way-speed, speed, speed!" and with these words threw himself from his horse, and dashed after the two brothers, as they went crashing, in their heavy armour, downwards through the boughs. In less than a minute they were on the level ground, and Sir Reginald rushed forward

gle. A few moments more, and the Lances would come up-but how impossible to hold out! The first blow cleft his shield in two, and though it did not pierce his armour, the shock brought him to his knee, and without the support of the staff of the pennon he would have been on the ground. Still, however, he kept up his defence, using sometimes his sword, and sometimes the staff, to parry the strokes of his assailant; but the strife was too unequal, and faint with violent exertion, as well as dizzied by a stroke which the temper of his helmet had resisted, he felt that all would be over with him in a

haine was right! It is the fated day. Thou art of gentle birth? I yield me then, rescue or no rescue, the rather th

Knight," said Eustace, raising h

," said the prisoner, in a kind tone of patronage, as he looked at the youthful fac

is master's head, and freed him from his helmet; but his eyes were still closed, and the wound ghastly, for such had been the force of the

ers crowded round, he waved them off with a gesture of command, which they instinctively obeyed. "Back, c

headed by Pedro himself, his sword, from hilt to point, streaming with blood, and his countenance ferocious as that of a tiger. "W

ing horses, turned round, and replied, with marked emphasis, "King Henry of Castile is, th

g his bloody weapon to hew down Bertrand du Guesclin, for no other was the prisoner, who stood with fol

s side, calling out, "My Lo

ave him to my vengeance, and thou shalt have gold-

rd the Prince of Wales," returne

h! or learn what it is to oppose

Sir King, you must win your

incipe, Senor Rey," and, in a few seconds more, the Bl

ies, that you should return thanks;" and Eustace almost shuddered to see him embrace the blood-thirsty monster, who, still intent on his prey, began the next moment, "Here, Senor Princ

alutation of honourable enemies, and then said, in a quiet, grave tone

as the Prince looked towards him, "I deli

d the Prince. "You are the young Lynwood, i

s to be rid of prisoner and Prince, and to return to Reginald, who by

ep concern, advancing to the wounded Knight, bending over him,

the Knight, faintly; "I would

ut receive my thanks for the prize of scar

Bertrand du Guesclin; I got not

ard; "it was from your young

and half raising himself; "Sir Bertrand your p

f his years resist that curtal-axe of mine. The routier villains burst on us, and were closing upon me, when he turned back the weapon that was over

is Eustace? In the name of God, St. Michael, and St. George, I dub thee Knight

, a light glancing in his fading eyes. "I should di

is, and send hither our own leech! I trust you wil

eel that this is my death-wound. I am glad it was in your cause

nought be done? Hasten the surgeon hither! Cheer thee, Reginald!-look up! O! would that Du Gue

Lord, if you come not speedily, there will be foul slaughter mad

hee well, my brave Reginald; and you, my new-made K

d his horse, and rode off with Sir John Chandos, leavi

reast, and laved his brow with water from the river. "You have done gallantly, my brave brother; I did wrong to doubt your spirit. Thanks be to God that I can die in p

charge of my life," said Eu

son in the wardship of the King, and of my brother, Sir Eustace Lynwood. And," added he, earnestly, "beware of Fulk Clarenham.

, leaning over him, and pressing

des whence I took you. On the word of a dying man, it will be better for you when you are in this case. Leonard, strive to be a true and brave man, though I may not fulfil your father's trust. Eustace-my eyes grow dim-is this you suppo

nd fell powerless, and with one long gasping breath his faithful and noble spirit departed. For several moments Eustace silently continued to hold the lifeless form in his arms, then raising the fac

her hand he dashed away his tears. His countenance was deathly pale, and drops of blood were fast falling from the deep gash in

d Gaston, attempting to smile; "I am only spent with loss of blood. Bring me a draug

ace," said Bertrand, stepping towards him, "here is Sir William Beauchamp, sent by the Prince to inquire for your gallant brother, and to summon

it, Sir Knight," said Bertrand, "you know how to wield it. I am in some sort your godfather in chivalry,

Navaretta, where we take up our quarters in the French camp. I grieve for the loss which

eginald was raised from the ground, and placed on the levelled lances of four of his men, and Eustace then assisted Gaston to rise. He tottered, leant he

I would say,-you have seen so

nces you me

luck as has befallen you. To cross swords with Du Guesclin is honour enough. Th

the rest come up, my wars had soon been

et, the fight was over, and I am glad the glory is wholly yours. Knighted under a banner in a stricken field! It is a chance which befalls not one man in five hundred, and you in your first battle! But he heeds me not. He thinks only of his brother! Look up, Sir Eustace, 'tis but the c