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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Sir Nigel"

"
"You speak wisely, John. But these horsemen who form in front and
ride slowly towards us, what make you of them?"
"Doubtless they hope to cut the strings of our bowmen and so clear
a way for the others. But they are indeed a chosen band, for mark
you, fair sir, are not those the colors of Clermont upon the left,
and of d'Andreghen upon the right, so that both marshals ride with
the vanguard?"
"By God's soul, John!" cried the Prince, "it is very sure that you
can see more with one eye than any man in this army with two. But
it is even as you say. And this larger band behind?"
"They should be Germans, fair sir, by the fashion of their
harness."
The two bodies of horsemen had moved slowly over the plain, with a
space of nearly a quarter of a mile between them. Now, having
come two bowshots from the hostile line, they halted. All that
they could see of the English was the long hedge, with an
occasional twinkle of steel through its leafy branches, and behind
that the spear-heads of the men-at-arms rising from amidst the
brushwood and the vines. A lovely autumn countryside with
changing many-tinted foliage lay stretched before them, all bathed
in peaceful sunshine, and nothing save those flickering fitful
gleams to tell of the silent and lurking enemy who barred their
way. But the bold spirit of the French cavaliers rose the higher
to the danger.


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