Meanwhile, Curthose hoisted his flag and invited mercenaries to repair, without delay, to the castle of Gerberoy. Thither they flocked as eagles to the carnage. From France, from Flanders, and from Normandy they hastened, on foot and on horseback, with sword and with spear. Even men-at-arms who had served in William's court, who had lived under his protection, and who had partaken of the fruits of his successes, willing to worship the rising sun, left Rouen and galloped to Gerberoy. Curthose ere long found himself at the head of a formidable force, and Philip of France rejoiced in the triumph which he anticipated from having set the son against the father. William was startled at the menacing attitude which Curthose had assumed, but he acted with all the energy of his earlier days. Landing in Normandy, the Conqueror prepared to encounter his refractory heir as he had encountered other foes, and, attended by his son, William Rufus, appeared in hostile array, and at the head of a numerous army, before Archembrage, where Curthose then was. It was now Curthose's turn to feel some degree of anxiety. Inclosed within the walls of Archembrage, he saw himself hemmed in by a force with which his own was too weak to cope. But the chivalrous spirit of the heir of Normandy was not to be daunted by the odds arrayed against him; and making a sally, with his lance in rest, and his best warriors at his back, he bore down opposition and carried confusion into the enemy's camp. It was on this occasion that Curthose and the Conqueror encountered hand to hand. Unaware who was his adversary, Curthose so strenuously exerted his marvellous prowess that William, who had never before been worsted in close conflict, was wounded and unhorsed. Alarmed at disasters which to him were quite novel, William bellowed out much more loudly than was consistent with the dignity of a conqueror, and the Norman knights, spurring in to the rescue, shouted out that it was the king. On discovering who was the wounded knight, Curthose dismounted, lifted William from the ground, aided him to regain his saddle, and left him at liberty to depart. After the affray at Archembrage, the Norman counts and bishops used their utmost endeavours to reconcile William and his son. At first their efforts were unavailing. The Conqueror would scarcely listen to their entreaties, and, even after listening, he resisted sternly and stubbornly. "Why," he asked, "do you solicit me in favour of a traitor who has seduced from me those soldiers whom I have fed with my bread and whom I have supplied with the arms they bear?"