"Push on, my masters," cried Martino; "the heron shall not balk the
eagle--push on!"

With renewed shouts, those on foot pushed forward, till, as they had
nearly gained the copse referred to by the German, a small compact body
of horsemen, armed cap-a-pie, dashed from amidst the trees, and, with
spears in their rests, charged into the ranks of the pursuers.

"A Colonna! a Colonna!" "An Orsini! an Orsini!" were shouts loudly
and fiercely interchanged. Martino di Porto, a man of great bulk and
ferocity, and his cavaliers, who were chiefly German Mercenaries, met
the encounter unshaken. "Beware the bear's hug," cried the Orsini, as
down went his antagonist, rider and steed, before his lance.

The contest was short and fierce; the complete armour of the horsemen
protected them on either side from wounds,--not so unscathed fared the
half-armed foot-followers of the Orsini, as they pressed, each pushed on
by the other, against the Colonna. After a shower of stones and darts,
which fell but as hailstones against the thick mail of the horsemen,
they closed in, and, by their number, obstructed the movements of the
steeds, while the spear, sword, and battle-axe of their opponents made
ruthless havoc amongst their undisciplined ranks. And Martino, who cared
little how many of his mere mob were butchered, seeing that his foes
were for the moment embarrassed by the wild rush and gathering circle
of his foot train (for the place of conflict, though wider than the
previous road, was confined and narrow), made a sign to some of his
horsemen, and was about to ride forward towards the boat, now nearly out
of sight, when a bugle at some distance was answered by one of his enemy
at hand; and the shout of "Colonna to the rescue!" was echoed afar off.