when　he　saw　by　the　scarlet　and　silver　that　the　deserter　was　his
  own　well…tried　squire；　William　of　Montaubon。
  〃William！　　William！〃　he　cried。　　〃Surely　you　would　not　leave　me？〃
  But　the　other's　helmet　was　closed　and　he　could　hear　nothing。
  Beaumanoir　saw　that　he　was　staggering　away　as　swiftly　as　he　could。
  With　a　cry　of　bitter　despair；　he　drew　into　a　knot　as　many　of　his
  braves　as　could　still　move；　and　together　they　made　a　last　rush
  upon　the　English　spears。　　This　time　he　was　firmly　resolved；　deep
  in　his　gallant　soul；　that　he　would　come　no　foot　back；　but　would
  find　his　death　there　amongst　his　foemen　or　carve　a　path　into　the
  heart　of　their　ranks。　　The　fire　in　his　breast　spread　from　man　to
  man　of　his　followers；　and　amid　the　crashing　of　blows　they　still
  locked　themselves　against　the　English　shields　and　drove　hard　for
  an　opening　in　their　ranks。
  But　all　was　vain！　　Beaumanoir's　head　reeled。　　His　senses　were
  leaving　him。　　In　another　minute　he　and　his　men　would　have　been
  stretched　senseless　before　this　terrible　circle　of　steel；　when
  suddenly　the　whole　array　fell　in　pieces　before　his　eyes；　his
  enemies　Croquart；　Knolles；　Calverly；　Belford；　all　were　stretched
  upon　the　ground　together；　their　weapons　dashed　from　their　hands
  and　their　bodies　too　exhausted　to　rise。　　The　surviving　Bretons　had
  but　strength　to　fall　upon　them　dagger　in　hands；　and　to　wring　from
  them　their　surrender　with　the　sharp　point　stabbing　through　their
  visors。　　Then　victors　and　vanquished　lay　groaning　and　panting　in
  one　helpless　and　blood…smeared　heap。
  To　Beaumanoir's　simple　mind　it　had　seemed　that　at　the　supreme
  moment　the　Saints　of　Brittany　had　risen　at　their　country's　call。
  Already；　as　he　lay　gasping；　his　heart　was　pouring　forth　its　thanks
  to　his　patron　Saint　Cadoc。　　But　the　spectators　had　seen　clearly
  enough　the　earthly　cause　of　this　sudden　victory；　and　a　hurricane
  of　applause　from　one　side；　with　a　storm　of　hooting　from　the　other
  showed　how　different　was　the　emotion　which　it　raised　in　minds
  which　sympathized　with　the　victors　or　the　vanquished。
  William　of　Montaubon；　the　cunning　squire；　had　made　his　way　across
  to　the　spot　where　the　steeds　were　tethered；　and　had　mounted　his
  own　great　roussin。　　At　first　it　was　thought　that　he　was　about　to
  ride　from　the　field；　but　the　howl　of　execration　from　the　Breton
  peasants　changed　suddenly　to　a　yell　of　applause　and　delight　as　he
  turned　the　beast's　head　for　the　English　circle　and　thrust　his　long
  prick　spurs　into　its　side。　　Those　who　faced　him　saw　this　sudden
  and　unexpected　appearance。　　Time　was　when　both　horse　and　rider
  must　have　winced　away　from　the　shower　of　their　blows。　　But　now
  they　were　in　no　state　to　meet　such　a　rush。　　They　could　scarce
  raise　their　arms。　　Their　blows　were　too　feeble　to　hurt　this　mighty
  creature。　　In　a　moment　it　had　plunged　through　the　ranks；　and　seven
  of　them　were　on　the　grass。　　It　turned　and　rushed　through　them
  again；　leaving　five　others　helpless　beneath　its　hoofs。　　No　need　to
  do　more！　　Already　Beaumanoir　and　his　companions　were　inside　the
  circle；　the　prostrate　men　were　helpless；　and　Josselin　had　won。
  That　night　a　train　of　crestfallen　archers；　bearing　many　a
  prostrate　figure；　marched　sadly　into　Ploermel　Castle。　　Behind　them
  rode　ten　men；　all　weary；　all　wounded；　and　all　with　burning　hearts
  against　William　of　Montaubon　for　the　foul　trick　that　he　had　served
  them。
  But　over　at　Josselin；　yellow　gorse…blossoms　in　their　helmets；　the
  victors　were　borne　in　on　the　shoulders　of　a　shouting　mob；　amid　the
  fanfare　of　trumpets　and　the　beating　of　drums。　　Such　was　the　combat
  of　the　Midway　Oak；　where　brave　men　met　brave　men；　and　such　honor
  was　gained　that　from　that　day　he　who　had　fought　in　the　Battle　of
  the　Thirty　was　ever　given　the　highest　place　and　the　post　of　honor；
  nor　was　it　easy　for　any　man　to　pretend　to　have　been　there；　for　it
  has　been　said　by　that　great　chronicler　who　knew　them　all；　that　not
  one　on　either　side　failed　to　carry　to　his　grave　the　marks　of　that
  stern　encounter。
  XXIV。　　HOW　NIGEL　WAS　CALLED　TO　HIS　MASTER
  My　sweet　ladye；〃　wrote　Nigel　in　a　script　which　it　would　take　the
  eyes　of　love　to　read；　〃there　hath　been　a　most　noble　meeting　in　the
  fourth　sennight　of　Lent　betwixt　some　of　our　own　people　and　sundry
  most　worthy　persons　of　this　country；　which　ended；　by　the　grace　of
  our　Lady；　in　so　fine　a　joust　that　no　man　living　can　call　to　mind
  so　fair　an　occasion。　　Much　honor　was　gained　by　the　Sieurde
  Beaumanoir　and　also　by　an　Almain　named　Croquart；　with　whom　I　hope
  to　have　some　speech　when　I　am　hale　again；　for　he　is　a　most
  excellent　person　and　very　ready　to　advance　himself　or　to　relieve
  another　from　a　vow。　　For　myself　I　had　hoped；　with　Godde's　help；　to
  venture　that　third　small　deed　which　might　set　me　free　to　haste　to
  your　sweet　side；　but　things　have　gone　awry　with　me；　and　I　early
  met　with　such　scathe　and　was　of　so　small　comfort　to　my　friends
  that　my　heart　is　heavy　within　me；　and　in　sooth　I　feel　that　I　have
  lost　honour　rather　than　gained　it。　　Here　I　have　lain　since　the
  Feast　of　the　Virgin；　and　here　I　am　like　still　to　be；　for　I　can
  move　no　limb；　save　only　my　hand；　but　grieve　not；　sweet　lady；　for
  Saint　Catharine　hath　been　our　friend　since　in　so　short　a　time　I
  had　two　such　ventures　as　the　Red　Ferret　and　the　intaking　of　the
  Reaver's　fortalice。　　It　needs　but　one　more　deed；　and　sickerly　when
  I　am　hale　once　more　it　will　not　be　long　ere　I　seek　it　out。　　Till
  then；　if　my　eyes　may　not　rest　upon　you；　my　heart　at　least　is　ever
  at　thy　feet。〃
  So　he　wrote　from　his　sick…room　in　the　Castle　of　Ploermel　late　in
  the　summer；　but　yet　another　summer　had　come　before　his　crushed
  head　had　mended　and　his　wasted　limbs　had　gained　their　strength
  once　more。　　With　despair　he　heard　of　the　breaking　of　the　truce；
  and　of　the　fight　at　Mauron　in　which　Sir　Robert　Knolles　and　Sir
  Walter　Bentley　crushed　the　rising　power　of　Brittany　…　a　fight　in
  which　many　of　the　thirty　champions　of　Josselin　met　their　end。
  Then；　when　with　renewed　strength　and　high　hopes　in　his　heart　he
  went　forth　to　search　for　the　famous　Croquart　who　proclaimed
  himself　ever　ready　night　or　day　to　meet　any　man　with　any　weapon；
  it　was　only　to　find　that　in　trying　the　paces　of　his　new　horse　the
  German　had　been　cast　into　a　ditch　and　had　broken　his　neck。　　In　the
  same　ditch　perished　Nigel's　last　chance　of　soon　accomplishing　that
  deed　which　should　free　him　from　his　vow。
  There　was　truce　once　more　over　all　Christendom；　and　mankind　was
  sated　with　war；　so　that　only　in　far…off　Prussia；　where　the
  Teutonic　knights　waged　ceaseless　battle　with　the　Lithuanian
  heathen；　could　he　hope　to　find　his　heart's　desire。　　But　money　and
  high　knightly　fame　were　needed　ere　a　man　could　go　upon　the
  northern　crusade；　and　ten　years　were　yet　to　pass　ere　Nigel　should
  look　from　the　battlements　of　Marienberg　on　the　waters　of　the
  Frische　Haff；　or　should　endure　the　torture　of　the　hot　plate　when
  bound　to　the　Holy　Woden　stone　of　Memel。　　Meanwhile；　he　chafed　his
  burning　soul　out　through　the　long　seasons　of　garrison　life　in
  Brittany；　broken　only　by　one　visit　to　the　chateau　of　the　father　of
  Raoul；　when　he　carried　to　the　Lord　of　Grosbois　the　news　of　how　his
  son　had　fallen　like　a　gallant　gentleman　under　the　gateway　of　La
  Brohiniere。
  And　then；　then　at　last；　when　all　hope　was　well…nigh　dead　in　his
  heart；　there　carne　one　glorious　July　morning　which　brought　a
  horseman　bearing　a　letter　to　the　Castle　of　Vannes；　of　which　Nigel
  now　was　seneschal。　　It　contained　but　few　words；　short　and　clear　as
  the　call　of　a　war…trumpet。　　It　was　Chandos　who　wrote。　　He　needed
  his　Squire　at　his　side；　for　his　pennon　was　in　the　breeze　once
  more。　　He　was　at　Bordeaux。　　The　Prince　was　starting　at　once　for
  Bergerac；　whence　he　would　make　a　great　raid　into　France。　　It　would
  not　end　without　a　battle。　　They　had　sent　word　of　their　coming；　and
  the　good　French　King　had　promised　to　be　at　great　pains　to　receive
  them。　　Let　Nigel　hasten　at　once。　　If　the　army　had　left；　then　let
  him　follow　after　with　all　speed。　　Chandos　had　three　other　squires；
  but　would　very　gladly　see　his　fourth　once　again；　for　he　had　heard
  much　of　him　since　he　parted；　and　nothing　which　he　might　not　have
  expected　to　hear　of　his　father's　son。　　Such　was　the　letter　which
  made　the　summer　sun　shine　brighter　and　the　blue　sky　seem　of　a
  still　fairer　blue　upon　that　happy　morning　in　Vannes。
  It　is　a　weary　way　from　Vannes　to　Bordeaux。　　Coastwise　ships　are
  hard　to　find；　and　winds　blow　north　when　all　brave　hearts　would
  fain　be　speeding　south。　　A　full　month　has　passed　from　the　day　when
  Nigel　received　his　letter　before　he　stood　upon　the　quay…side　of
  the　Garonne　amid　the　stacked　barrels　of　Gascon　wine　and　helped　to
  lead　Pommers　down　the　gang…planks。　　Not　Aylward　himself　had　a
  worse　opinion　of　the　sea　than　the　great　yellow　horse；　and　he
  whinnied　with　joy　as　he　thrust　his　muzzle　into　his　master's
  outstretched　hand；　and　stamped　his　ringing　hoofs　upon　the　good
  firm　cobblestones。　　Beside　him；　slapping　his　tawny　shoulder　in
  encouragement；　was　the　lean　spare　form　of　Back　Simon　who　had
  remained　ever　under　Nigel's　pennon。
  But　Aylward；　where　was　he？　　Alas！　　two　years　before　he　and　the
  whole　of　Knolles'　company　of　archers　had　been　drafted　away　on　the
  King's　service　to　Guienne；　and　since　he　could　not　wri