and the struggle began anew.  In their rage and impetuosity, however, they fought without method, and the Knight was able for a short interval, by skilful play, to sweep aside their points and to parry their blows.  But it forced him to fight wholly on the defensive, and his age and wounds left no doubt as to the ultimate result.  His arm grew tired, and the grip on his sword hilt weakened. . .  His enemies pressed him closer and closer. . .  A blow got past his guard and pierced his thigh.  He had strength for only one more stroke; and he gathered it for a final rush and balanced himself for the opportunity.  So fierce was the conflict that no one noticed the approach of De Lacy until, with a shout of “Au secours!” he rode down upon them.  He had out-stripped all his escort, except his squire, and even he was several lengths behind.  Taken by surprise, the assailants hesitated a moment, and so lost their only opportunity for escape.  With a sweep of his long sword he shore a head clean from its shoulders, another man went down before his horse’s rush; and then, swinging in a demi-volte, he split a third through collar-bone and deep into the breast.  Meanwhile, the old Knight had slain one and Giles Dauvrey had stopped the flight of another.  But one escaped, and he, in the confusion, had darted into the forest and was quickly lost amid its shadows.

“By St. Luke, sir!” said the old Knight, as he leaned heavily on his sword, “your coming was most opportune.  My strength was almost spent.”

“It was a gallant fight,” said Aymer.  “I feared every instant they would close ere I could reach you. . .  But you are wounded!”

“Nay, they are only scratches and will heal shortly—­yet the leg grows heavy and I would best rest it,” and he seated himself on the turf at the foot of the tree.  “This comes of riding in silk instead of steel—­certes, I am old enough to know better.”

De Lacy dismounted and aided him to examine his wounds.  The only one of any consequence was in the leg; it had been made by a sword thrust; and the point having penetrated only the fleshy part of the thigh, no material damage was inflicted.

“Were you alone when assaulted?” asked De Lacy, the while he was binding a scarf around the injury.

“Yes—­and another piece of childishness.  I had despatched my squire on a sudden errand, a short ways back, and had no notion of danger, when these rogues suddenly set upon me.  I made short work of two of them and would have got through, without difficulty, but for the death of my horse.  They stabbed him, as you see.  Then I got my back against the tree and managed to keep them off for a period.  The rest you know.  And to whom am I so heavily indebted?”

“My name is Aymer de Lacy.”

“By St. Luke!  John de Bury is glad that it is to a De Lacy he owes his life.”

“Are you Sir John de Bury of Craigston Castle?”

“The same—­although, but for you I would be of the Kingdom of Spirits instead.”