Shoulder to shoulder, fearless and dauntless, stood the little band of gallant knights and gentlemen who formed the bodyguard of the Prince.  Again and again had the horsemen charged them; but the soldiers threw themselves beneath the horses of the foe and stabbed them through the body, so that hundreds of gallant French knights were overthrown and slain ere they well knew what had befallen them.  But in the press and the heat of battle it was hard to say how the tide would turn.  The commanders of the left wing of the English, the Earls of Northampton and Arundel, were forcing their way inch by inch to reach the Prince’s side and divert from his immediate neighbourhood the whole stress of the opposing force now concentred there.  They could see that the Prince was still unharmed, fighting with the gallantry of his soldier race.  But the odds for the moment were heavily against him; and they despatched a messenger to the King, who remained with the reserves, begging him to go to the assistance of the Prince.  Ere the messenger returned, they had fought their own way into the melee, and had joined issue with the gallant youth, who, fearless and full of spirit, was encouraging his men alike by the boldness of his demeanour and by his shouts of encouragement and praise, though his breath was coming thick and fast, and the drops of exhaustion stood upon his brow.

“Fear not, sweet Prince,” cried Arundel, raising his voice so that all who were near could hear:  “we have sent word to your Royal Sire of the stress of the battle round you, and he will soon be here himself with the help that shall enable us to rout this rebel host;” and he turned his eyes somewhat anxiously towards the height where the King and his company still remained motionless.

But a messenger was spurring back through the open ground which lay between the reserves and the right wing where such hot work was going on.  He made straight for the spot where the Prince was fighting, and both the Earls turned eagerly towards him.

“What said the King?” they asked quickly.  “When will he be with us?”

“He asked,” replied the messenger, “whether the Prince were killed or wounded; and when I told him nay, but in a hard passage of arms wherein he needed his Sire’s help, the King folded his arms and turned away, saying, ’Let the boy win his spurs; for I will that the glory of this day be his, and not mine.’”

As those words were spoken it seemed as if new life were infused into the young Prince himself and all those who surrounded him.  A ringing cheer rose from all their throats.  They formed once again under their young leader, and charged the enemy with a fury that nothing was able to resist.  The horsemen were forced hack the way they had come.  The Counts who had led them boldly and well were unhorsed and slain.  Dismay and terror fell upon the breaking ranks of the French, and they turned and fled; whilst the excited and triumphant young Prince pursued them with shouts of exultation and triumph, till he found himself with his few most faithful followers in the midst of the flying but hostile ranks some little distance away from the English army.