Eustace grasped his sword.  “Sir King, you must win your way to him through my body.”

At this moment one of the attendants whispered, “El Principe, Senor Rey,” and, in a few seconds more, the Black Prince, with a few followers, rode towards the spot.

Hastily dismounting, Pedro threw himself on his knees to thank him for the victory; but Edward, leaping from his horse, raised him, saying, “It is not to me, but to the Giver of victories, 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 Prince, is the chief enemy—­ here is the disturber of kingdoms—­Du Guesclin himself—­and there stands a traitorous boy of your country, who resolutely refuses to yield him to my just vengeance.”

As Pedro spoke, the Prince exchanged with Sir Bertrand the courteous salutation of honourable enemies, and then said, in a quiet, grave tone, “It is not our English custom to take vengeance on prisoners of war.”

“My Lord,” said Eustace, stepping forward, as the Prince looked towards him, “I deliver the prisoner into your princely hands.”

“You have our best thanks, Sir Squire,” said the Prince.  “You are the young Lynwood, if I remember right.  Where is your brother?”

“Alas! my Lord, here he lies, sorely hurt,” said Eustace, only anxious to be rid of prisoner and Prince, and to return to Reginald, who by this time had, by the care of Gaston, been recalled to consciousness.

“Is it so?  I grieve to hear it!” said Edward, with a face of deep concern, advancing to the wounded Knight, bending over him, and taking his hand, “How fares it with you, my brave Reginald?”

“Poorly enough, my Lord,” said the Knight, faintly; “I would I could have taken King Henry—­”

“Lament not for that,” said the Prince, “but receive my thanks for the prize of scarcely less worth, which I owe to your arms.”

“What mean you, my Lord?  Not Sir Bertrand du Guesclin; I got nothing from him but my death-blow.”

“How is this then?” said Edward; “it was from your young brother that I received him.”

“Speak, Eustace!” said Sir Reginald, eagerly, and half raising himself; “Sir Bertrand your prisoner?  Fairly and honourably?  Is it possible?”

“Fairly and honourably, to that I testify,” said Du Guesclin.  “He knelt before you, and defended your pennon longer than I ever thought to see one of 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 my head, and summoned me to yield, which I did the more willingly that so gallant a youth should have such honour as may be acquired by my capture.”

“He has it, noble Bertrand,” said Edward.  “Kneel down, young Squire.  Thy name is Eustace?  In the name of God, St. Michael, and St. George, I dub thee Knight.  Be faithful, brave and fortunate, as on this day.  Arise, Sir Eustace Lynwood.”