Here and there brave fragments of what had been the mighty host of France held out and still fought on; but they were not enough. All others sought to save themselves as best they might from the pitiless following of the English. Those in the rear who fled at once were safe enough, and the sunset and the evening shadows were good friends to many more of the French. Most fortunate were such horsemen as had not been able to get into the harrow, for only about twelve hundred knights were slain. With them, however, fell eleven princes and the King of Bohemia, and thirty thousand footmen. The King of France himself was a fugitive that night, seeking where he might hide his head.
From his place on the hill King Edward of England watched the closing of the great day of Crécy, and now before him stood a strange array. Shorn plumes, cloven crests or none, battered and bloody armor, broken swords, shivered lances, battle-worn faces, lighted somewhat by pride of victory, were arrayed before him. All were on foot, and each man bowed the knee.
Few, but weighty and noble with thanks and honor, were the words of the king. More he would say, he told them, when he should better know each man's meed of praise.
At length the Black Prince came forward, and he knelt before his father, to rise a knight, for he had won his spurs.
"Richard of Wartmont!" cheerily spoke the king. "Come thou!"
"Sore wounded, Sire," said Sir Henry of Wakeham; "but I will aid."
"Not so," exclaimed the prince. "I will bring him myself."
When Richard was brought before King Edward, he heard but faintly the words that made him a knight:
[Illustration: "Arise, Sir Richard of Wartmont!"]
All strength and life that were yet in Richard had helped him to lean upon the prince's arm, to kneel, to rise again, and to hear, almost without hearing, the good words of the king. Then he stepped backward, and Guy the Bow put an arm around him and said lovingly:
"Sir Richard of Wartmont, proud will thy lady mother be! I trow the war is over. When thy wounds are well healed we will take thee home to her."
Long after the sun went down strong detachments of King Edward's army were busily at work gathering in the fruits of the victory. Not that there was any effort to take prisoners of the common men, but that many knights who could pay good ransom lay upon the field sore wounded or encumbered with their armor. Moreover, there was great spoil of arms, and of other matters of war and peace.