Then came the campaign which led to the catastrophe of Pavia. Richard joined the French army at Marseilles, and was, in company with Francis of Lorraine, placed at the head of his old corps the German _lansquenets_, who were delighted to fight under so practised and trusted a leader. They were 6,000 at the beginning of the campaign, pitted against a larger number of their own brethren under Frundsberg, in the Emperor's service. On St. Matthias Day, in 1525, the battle of Pavia was fought, which lost Francis his liberty. Francis, as usual, showed no want of dash, but a lamentable lack of prudence. Mistaking the enemy's retreat, under the fire of his guns, for a settled defeat, he sent his infantry after them, placing the bulk of his army between the foe and his own artillery. The allies were not slow to turn this false move to account. Charging back upon their foes, they overwhelmed them with superior numbers. That lost the French the day. Richard's _lansquenets_ did their best to retrieve the error. Having knelt down, as their manner was, and thrown dust behind them, they rushed, singing their familiar war-songs, into the fray with an impetus which promised to break the hostile ranks. "Had but the Switzers fought like the _lansquenets_," Francis said after the battle, "the day would have been ours." But the odds were too many against them. They were met by their own fellow-_lansquenets_--each side being furious with the other. The German men were wroth at seeing their comrades on the other side, fighting against their own country--the French at seeing their brother-soldiers desert so faithful an employer as Francis. So no quarter was given on either side. And the French _lansquenets_--they had lost one-fourth of their number before the charge began--being wedged in between a superior force of Germans closing in on either side, were simply crushed as between two millstones. The list of killed was long--and brilliant. Among the slain were the two captains of the _lansquenets_, Francis of Lorraine and Richard de la Pole. The latter had--as a painting preserved in the Ashmolean Museum indicates--died protecting Francis with his sword. He was found buried under "_un monceau_" of dead enemies against whom he had fought. There was loud rejoicing in the camp of the allies. It was given out that "three kings" had been taken or killed--Francis, the unfortunate King of Navarre, and, "to make up the trinity of kings," says a despatch addressed to Wolsey, "La Rose Blanche, whom they call the King of Scots." Appended to the curious despatch which Frundsberg forwarded to the Emperor, giving a report of the battle--the oldest record extant--is a drawing, showing three crowned knights, fancy portraits of the "kings."