Backward and
forward swayed the mighty throng, now down the valley and now up,
as each side in turn put forth its strength for a fresh rally.
Locked in one long deadly grapple, great England and gallant
France with iron hearts and souls of fire strove and strove for
mastery.
Sir Walter Woodland, riding hard upon his high black horse, had
plunged into the swelter and headed for the blue and silver banner
of King John. Close at his heels in a solid wedge rode the
Prince, Chandos, Nigel, Lord Reginald Cobham, Audley with his four
famous squires, and a score of the flower of the English and
Gascon knighthood. Holding together and bearing down opposition
by a shower of blows and by the weight of their powerful horses,
their progress was still very slow, for ever fresh waves of French
cavaliers surged up against them and broke in front only to close
in again upon their rear. Sometimes they were swept backward by
the rush, sometimes they gained a few paces, sometimes they could
but keep their foothold, and yet from minute to minute that blue
and silver flag which waved above the press grew ever a little
closer. A dozen furious hard-breathing French knights had broken
into their ranks, and clutched at Sir Walter Woodland's banner,
but Chandos and Nigel guarded it on one side, Audley with his
squires on the other, so that no man laid his hand upon it and
lived.
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