"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."

"Thanks, thanks, my gracious Prince," said Reginald, a light glancing