When they were arrived at the castle, the constable received them very amicably, and then said, “I put you all under arrest, and forbid you to depart hence this day. To-morrow morning, after mass, you shall witness the combat between your squire and ours, and then you shall dine with me. Dinner over, you shall set out, and I will give you good guides to conduct you to Cherbourg.” They complied with his requests, and, having drank of his wine, returned to their inn. Now the two squires consulted together, for it was fixed they should on the morrow morning engage without fail. When morning came they both heard mass, confessed themselves, and mounted their horses, the French being on one side, and the English on the other; they rode together to a smooth plain on the outside of the castle, where they dismounted. John Boucmel had provided there two suits of armor, according to his promise, which were good and strong, as the occasion demanded. Having had them displayed, he told the English squire to make the first choice. “No,” said the Englishman, “I will not choose: you shall have the choice.” John was therefore forced to choose first, which he did, and armed himself completely (in doing which he was assisted) as a good man at arms should be. Nicholas did the same. When they were both armed they grasped their spears, well made with Bordeaux steel, and of the same length; and each took the position proper for him to run his course with their helmets and visors closed. They then advanced, and when they approached pretty near they lowered their spears, aiming them to hit each other. At the first onset Nicholas Clifford struck with his spear John Boucmel on the upper part of his breast; but the point slipped off the steel breastplate, and pierced the hood, which was of good mail, and, entering his neck, cut the jugular vein, and passed quite through, breaking off at the shaft with the head; so that the truncheon remained in the neck of the squire, who was killed, as you may suppose. The English squire passed on to his chair, where he seated himself. The French lords, who had seen the stroke, and the broken spear in his neck, hastened to him. They immediately took off his helmet, and drew out the spear. On its being extracted, he turned himself about without uttering a word, and fell down dead. The English squire hurried to his relief, crying out to have the blood stanched, but could not arrive before he expired. Nicholas Clifford was then exceedingly vexed for having by ill fortune slain a valiant and good man at arms. All who at that time could have seen the despair of the Count de la Marche, who had such an affection for his deceased squire, would surely have much pitied him: he was in the greatest distress, for he esteemed him above all others.