"
The gallant Lord Audley had dropped upon the ground and the blood
oozed from every crevice of his battered armor. His four brave
Squires--Dutton of Dutton, Delves of Doddington, Fowlhurst of
Crewe and Hawkstone of Wainhill--wounded and weary themselves,
but with no thought save for their master, unlaced his helmet and
bathed his pallid blood-stained face.
He looked up at the Prince with burning eyes. "I thank you, sir,
for deigning to consider so poor a knight as myself," said he in a
feeble voice.
The Prince dismounted and bent over him. "I am bound to honor you
very much, James," said he, "for by your valor this day you have
won glory and renown above us all, and your prowess has proved you
to be the bravest knight."
"My Lord," murmured the wounded man, "you have a right to say what
you please; but I wish it were as you say."
"James," said the Prince, "from this time onward I make you a
knight of my own household, and I settle upon you five hundred
marks of yearly income from my own estates in England."
"Sir," the knight answered, "God make me worthy of the good
fortune you bestow upon me. Your knight I will ever be, and the
money I will divide with your leave amongst these four squires who
have brought me whatever glory I have won this day." So saying
his head fell back, and he lay white and silent upon the grass.
"Bring water!" said the Prince.
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