But Ralph called Clement to him and they drew a stalworth
band together, and, heeding nought the chase of the runaways,
they fell on those who had the Champions in their midst,
and fell to smiting down men on either hand; and every
man who looked on Ralph crouched and cowered before him,
casting down his weapons and throwing up his hands.
Shortly to say it, when these horsemen felt this new onset,
and looking round saw their men fleeing hither and thither
over the green fields of Upmeads, smitten by the Shepherds and
leaping into the deep pools of the river, they turned and fled,
every man who could keep his saddle, and made for the Bridge,
the Dry Tree thundering at their backs. But even as they came
within bowshot, a great flight of arrows came from the further
side of the water, and the banner of the Fruitful Tree came forth
from the bridge-end with Nicholas and his tried men-at-arms
behind it; and then indeed great and grim was the murder,
and the proud men of the Burg grovelled on the ground and prayed
for mercy till neither the Champions nor the men of Nicholas
could smite helpless men any longer.
Now had Ralph held his hand from the chase, and he was sitting
on a mound amidst of the meadow under an ancient thorn,
and beside him sat the Sage of Swevenham and Ursula.
And she was grown pale now and looked somewhat scared,
and she spake in a trembling voice to Ralph, and said:
"Alas friend! that this should be so grim! When we hear
the owls a-nighttime about the High House, shall we not
deem at whiles that it is the ghosts of this dreadful
battle and slaughter wandering about our fair fields?"
But Ralph spake sternly and wrathfully as he sat there
bareheaded and all unarmed save for the ancient glaive:
"Why did they not slay me then? Better the ghosts of robbers
in our fields by night, than the over-burdened hapless
thrall by day, and the scourged woman, and ruined child.
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