The boy's Froissart : $b being Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of adventures, battle, and custom in England, France, Spain, etc.Froissart, Jean
History
The boy's Froissart : $b being Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of adventures, battle, and custom in England, France, Spain, etc.
Froissart, Jean
France -- History -- House of Valois, 1328-1589; Great Britain -- History -- 14th century; Hundred Years' War, 1339-1453
There was much pressing at this time, through eagerness to take the
king; and those who were nearest to him, and knew him, cried out,
“Surrender yourself, surrender yourself, or you are a dead man.” In that
part of the field was a young knight from St. Omer, who was engaged by a
salary in the service of the King of England: his name was Denys de
Morbeque: who for five years had attached himself to the English, on
account of having been banished in his younger days from France for a
murder committed in an affray at St. Omer. It fortunately happened for
this knight that he was at the time near to the King of France, when he
was so much pulled about: he by dint of force (for he was very strong
and robust) pushed through the crowd, and said to the king in good
French, “Sire, sire, surrender yourself.” The king, who found himself
very disagreeably situated, turning to him asked, “To whom shall I
surrender myself? to whom? Where is my cousin the Prince of Wales? if I
could see him, I would speak to him.”--“Sire,” replied Sir Denys, “he is
not here; but surrender yourself to me, and I will lead you to
him.”--“Who are you?” said the king. “Sire, I am Denys de Morbeque, a
knight from Artois; but I serve the King of England, because I cannot
belong to France, having forfeited all I possessed there.” The king then
gave him his right-hand glove, and said, “I surrender myself to you.”
There was much crowding and pushing about, for every one was eager to
cry out, “I have taken him.” Neither the king nor his youngest son
Philip were able to get forward, and free themselves from the throng.
The Prince of Wales, who was as courageous as a lion, took great delight
that day to combat his enemies. Sir John Chandos, who was near his
person, and had never quitted it during the whole of the day, nor
stopped to make prisoners, said to him toward the end of the battle,
“Sir, it will be proper for you to halt here, and plant your banner on
the top of this bush, which will serve to rally your forces, that seem
very much scattered; for I do not see any banners or pennons of the
French, nor any considerable bodies able to rally against us; and you
must refresh yourself a little, as I perceive you are very much heated.”
Upon this the banner of the prince was placed on a high bush: the
minstrels began to play, and trumpets and clarions to do their duty. The
prince took off his helmet; and the knights attendant on his person, and
belonging to his chamber, were soon ready, and pitched a small pavilion
of crimson color, which the prince entered. Liquor was then brought to
him and the other knights who were with him: they increased every
moment; for they were returning from the pursuit, and stopped there
surrounded by their prisoners.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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