We came to the army of the Prince on the morning of the third day where it was lying north of the city of Poitiers. At once the movement started towards the south. The wisest plan would be to avoid a battle if we could. But we were scarcely under arms and it was while we were passing the city to the east that we saw the pennons of the King and after a while his horsemen and his knights. The army that I had seen piecemeal traveling down the valley of the Loire was joined in one. There was no escape from it now for they were bent on destruction and slaughter. We faced them. The Prince was a master in the art of war. He chose his ground with all the care he could for he had to offset the greater number of his foes with matchless skill. The battle raged from early morn to the setting of the sun. The archers shot their arrows as thick as hail so that the air seemed filled with flakes of snow with the darting of the white feathers. Knights, who had won fame and name in every part of Europe, hewed and hacked with their battle-axes and their maces. Bright swords flashed like polished silver. The lancers charged. Men were toppled from their horses and rose again to fight it out upon the ground. It was like a sea tossed into storm. And when night fell the enemy withdrew fewer in number than they began, humiliated in defeat, with a blow delivered at them from which they for years to come were not able to recover. The flower of their warriors threw their lives away in their arrogance and pride. The valley of the Loire was opened up in case we chose to take it. If we had had an army big enough the whole of France might have been annexed to the English crown, for when the prisoners were brought in it was to the amazement of us all that among them was the greatest enemy we had—the King of France himself! You may be a bit curious to learn what part I took in the fight. I was but a lad, of course, and hardly of the strength to cope with knights who were seasoned and toughened by years of life in camp and on the field of battle. But even at that I did what might be considered my share. The Abbot furnished me with what accoutrement was needful. I rode beside him in the fray. The mace he gave me was of a weight that I could wield and the sword I used did its work as well as it might have done in older hands than mine. At the first go I was overfull of haste. I had singled out a foe and was hard at it when the swaying of the fight carried him from me down the field. On another occasion I found myself between two knights who were vying with each other to see who could strike me down the first. I warded off their fury with what skill I had until one of them was stricken from behind by a hand that was as sudden as it was sure. The other I struck a fortunate blow for I stunned him so hard that he rode off the field to nurse his wound.