The mêlée commenced, terrible and confused; the old King of Bohemia, blind and surrounded by his followers, inquired how matters were progressing. This was at the moment when the Genoese were being slaughtered. "They fall back upon each other, and prevent our advancing," said his knights. "Ah!" replied the king, "this is the signal for us; therefore, I beg you, my men, friends and comrades, to lead me so far forward that I may wield a sword against the enemy." And they, fearing to lose the king in the confusion, bound their horses together by the bridles, and "placed the king their lord in front, and thus fell upon the enemy; on whom the king inflicted blows one after the other, and all remained there and not one stirred," for all the knights were on the morrow found dead around their master. Meanwhile the king of England did not fight; he had not even donned his helmet, while watching the battle from a little eminence. The French cavalry were closely pressing the Prince of Wales; the Earl of Northampton demanded reinforcements from the king. "Is my son dead or overthrown, or so wounded that he cannot help himself?" asked Edward of the messenger. "No, my lord, but he is in the thick of the fray and is in great need of your assistance." "Return to those who sent you," retorted the king, "and tell them not to send a request again while my son is still alive, but to let the youth win his spurs; for I intend, if it please God, that this day may be his." And thus was it done. {308}