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Python Games from Zero to Proficiency (Beginner)

Patrick Felicia

Published by Patrick Felicia, 2022.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the
publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for
damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

PYTHON GAMES FROM ZERO TO PROFICIENCY (BEGINNER)

First edition. August 15, 2022.

Copyright © 2022 Patrick Felicia.

ISBN: 979-8201076511

Written by Patrick Felicia.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Python Games from Zero to Proficiency (Beginner)

Chapter 1: Introduction to Programming in Python

Chapter 2: Creating your First Script

Chapter 3: Creating a Number Guessing Game

Chapter 4: Creating a word guessing game

Chapter 5: Using Graphics and the Pygame Library

Chapter 6: Creating a coin collection game

Chapter 7: Frequently Asked Questions

Thank you

Also By Patrick Felicia

About the Author
 Python Games From Zero to proficiency
(Beginner)

First Edition

––––––––

A step-by-step guide to coding your first game with Python and

Pygame.
Patrick Felicia
 Python Games From Zero to proficiency
(Beginner)

Copyright © 2022 Patrick Felicia

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in
retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the
prior written permission of the publisher (Patrick Felicia), except in the
case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure the
accuracy of the information presented. However, the information
contained in this book is sold without warranty, either expressed or
implied. Neither the author and its dealers and distributors will be held
liable for any damages caused or alleged to be caused directly or
indirectly by this book.
First published: August 2022
Published by Patrick Felicia
 Credits
Author: Patrick Felicia
 About the Author
Patrick Felicia is a lecturer and researcher at Waterford Institute of
Technology, where he teaches and supervises undergraduate and
postgraduate students. He obtained his MSc in Multimedia Technology in
2003 and PhD in Computer Science in 2009 from University College
Cork, Ireland. He has published several books and articles on the use of
video games for educational purposes, including the Handbook of
Research on Improving Learning and Motivation through Educational
Games: Multidisciplinary Approaches (published by IGI), and Digital
Games in Schools: A Handbook for Teachers, published by European
Schoolnet. Patrick is also the Editor-in-chief of the International Journal
of Game-Based Learning (IJGBL), and the Conference Director of the
Irish Symposium on Game-Based Learning, a popular conference on
games and learning organized throughout Ireland.
 Support and Resources for this Book
To complete the activities presented in this book you need to download
the startup pack on the companion website; it consists of free resources
that you will need to complete your projects. To download these
resources, please do the following:

Open the page

Click on your book From Zero to Proficiency

On the new page, please click the link that says Here Click to Download
Your Resource
This book is dedicated to Mathis
[ ]
 Table of Contents
Credits
About the Author
Support and Resources for this Book
Table of Contents
Preface
Content Covered by this Book
What you Need to Use this Book
Who this book is for
Who this book is not for
How you will learn from this book
Format of Each Chapter and Writing Conventions

Special Notes

How Can You Learn Best from this Book?

Feedback
Downloading the Solutions for the Book
Improving the Book
Supporting the Author
Chapter 1: Introduction to Programming in Python

Introduction
Statements
Comments
Variables
Arrays and lists
Dictionaries
Constants
Operators
Conditional statements

Match statements
Loops
Classes
Defining a class
Accessing class members and variables
Constructors
Inheritance
Functions and Methods
Default parameters and return types for functions
Scope of variables
Events or Signals
Workflow to create a script
Coding convention
A few things to remember when you create a script (checklist)
Common Errors
Level roundup
Summary
Quiz
Answers to the Quiz.
Checklist

Chapter 2: Creating your First Script

installing Python and an IDE

Your First Script
Creating your first function
Creating your own class
Using Modules
Best practices

Indentation
Maximum line length
Line breaks
Variable naming
Methods
Level roundup
Summary
Quiz
Answers to the Quiz
Checklist
Challenge 1

Chapter 3: Creating a Number Guessing Game

Resources necessary for this chapter

Creating a simple script to guess a number
Level roundup
Checklist
Quiz
Answers to the quiz
Challenge 1
Challenge 2

Chapter 4: Creating A word guessing game

Initializing the game

Displaying the word to guess and processing the users’ answer
gathering random words from a text file
Level roundup
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
the cathead, and the voyage had begun. Slowly the ship moved
through the still flowing tide, but as each sail was set, and the night
breeze came stronger, she gathered way and rippled through the
whispering sea. The vessels astern had followed the example of the
Captain's ship, and were stemming the tide behind.
Cheer upon cheer came from the shore, answered by ringing
shouts from the ships. The decks and rigging were crowded with
lusty men, waving scarves and caps, and cheering till the welkin
rang again.
The enthusiasm was unbounded, and Ralph had never felt such
excitement, not even when he won the prize of the tourney.
As the ship drew out from the land the breeze came fresher
still; and the creaking yards and bellying sails, with the gurgling
sound of the rushing sea, told how well they were going.
Overhead the stars were shining in brilliant glitter, and the dark
outline on their right faintly indicated their island home. Should they
ever see it again? But scarce one of all that crew of lusty men gave
a thought to such a foreboding. For them, life and wealth, and name
and fame, lay away in the south across the sea, and the present was
joyous. What more could they want?
"Well, Ralph, my son, we are well at sea now. They'll be shifting
over those cloths, I'm thinking, for the breeze is coming more over
her stern. Ah! I thought so; look out for that lee sheet, thou hast got
thy leg foul of the slack. I' faith! what a thing it is to be a
landlubber."
"Certes, Dicky, thou art a mariner--at least thou thinkest so; but
art sure all thy terms are rightly applied?" said Ralph, laughing at the
nautical Dicky, who had now put on a suit of yellow oiled clothes,
and smelt very unpleasantly. "Faugh! Dicky, how parlous nasty thou
art! and why hast put on this strange suit?"
"Certes, Ralph, thou art simple! 'tis a right proper dress, and
one that suiteth the sea; had I had time, I would have bid thee get
one too," said Dicky, who secretly had determined to surprise his
comrades by his thorough knowledge of nautical matters, and would
not have told them beforehand for worlds.
They had now lost sight of the island, and the ship was made
snug for the night--strict discipline was observed on board, and
watches set, only the pages were allowed to stay up on deck as long
as they liked.
Dicky Cheke now prepared for his feast. He chose a sheltered
place under the weather gunwale; and finding three coils of rope
ready to hand, he placed his various luxuries in their protecting
folds. There was a large game pasty, a very substantial ham, a
conserve of plums, and a cheese, with new bread and a large jar of
ale.
Ralph and Maurice Woodville sat down on some old sails and
helped to arrange the feast. Dicky Cheke had become more nautical
than ever, and would insist on walking about. The breeze had
gradually freshened, and they were surging through the sea in
splendid style. The other ships were hull down astern, not one of
them being such a fast sailer as the ship which carried the Captain
of the Wight.
Maurice Woodville had arranged the places, and bid Dicky sit
down. But that young gentleman would persist in showing them how
well he kept his feet in spite of the rolling of the ship, which was
now running through the strong eddies of St Catherine's. However
pride, as ever, goeth before a fall. He was bending down, with legs
astride, to adjust the game pasty before he opened it, when the ship
gave a heavier roll to port, and Master Dicky sat down abruptly in a
pail which Maurice Woodville had thoughtfully put to catch him if he
should fall. Dicky's collapse caused the pail to capsize, and the
luckless youth, together with the pail, went rolling over into the lee-
scuppers, bumping against the main hatchway in his fall.
"Blessed Thomas!" ejaculated Dicky, "what in the name of all
sticky things is this?" He had caught hold of the fore halyards, and
so recovered his feet again, but he found he could not relax his
fingers: they were all glued together. "Ralph! Maurice! come hither! I
am bewitched! There's some vile trick been played upon me. I am all
stuck together: my coat's sticking to my arms. I can't move my
sleeves, and my hands are stuck to this rope. Mercy on me! come
quick!"
But Maurice and Ralph were choking with laughter, and could
not, or would not, go to his help. At this moment, to make Dicky's
discomfort still greater, the ship gave a heavy yaw, and sank down in
the trough of a wave, while the man at the wheel brought her head
up again to the next sea somewhat too rapidly, with the effect of
sending a deluge of water over the head of the unfortunate Dicky,
whose hat had come off, and was lying under the lee gunwale.
Dicky, gasping, shivering, and spluttering, was violently thrown off
his legs, and waved in the air for a moment; then he banged his
shins against the sharp end of a heavy iron cleat, uttering a howl of
anguish; and finally, with a violent wrench, he got his hands free
from the rope, and scrambled over the slippery deck to his friends
and guests.
 "Well, Dicky, what's the matter with thee?" said Ralph, scarcely
recovered from his fit of laughter.
"Body o' me knows," said Dicky ruefully; "but methinks I am
bewitched. I can't lift up my arms; and oh! mercy! I'm stuck
together every way; and and how the water does trickle down my
neck. Ugh! it's got down my back now: I feel it running down my
backbone. Ugh! oh! hold on, one of you, or I shall be off again," and
Dicky grasped at the coil of rope nearest to him, to save himself
going backwards once more as the ship rolled over again.
But he had caught hold of a treacherous support. The rope flew
out of the coil, and once more Dicky rolled over. But this was not the
worst of the mishap. The ham, the conserve of plums, and the
cheese had been placed in this secure receptacle. They were
displaced by the running rope, and followed the struggling Dicky.
The cheese only hit him on the nose, and rolled merrily on to join
the hat, which was floating in the salt water in an angle of the
bulwark stanchions, where both were quickly joined by the ham; but
the conserve of plums broke from its cover, and the luscious fruit,
with its fragrant but sticky syrup, were thrown in the face of their
miserable owner.
"Oh! ah!" gurgled Dicky, as a large and mellow plum caught him
in the eye, already smarting from the salt water, while further
remarks were rendered incoherent by another one going plop into
his open mouth.
Ralph and Maurice were in imminent danger of joining the
struggling Dicky. They were convulsed with laughter, and were
totally incapable of helping him. At last Dicky once more scrambled
up again, very wet, miserable, and disconsolate. He sat down with
his back to the gunwale, and broke out into dismal grumbling.
"Well, you are scurvy knaves; you might at least have lent me a
hand; and--why, where's the cheese? and I don't see the ham: it
couldn't have been that which hit me on the nose! Oh, misery! and
to think, after all, that beautiful ham and cheese are gone
overboard! I chose them both myself! But perhaps they're only over
there to leeward. Just step over, Maurice, and see."
"Nay, Dicky, let's stow the game-pie first, 'twill be best to get
that out of the way," said Maurice, who had been longing to begin
on the noble pie before him for some time.
"Marry! that's sound advice--hand it over here. Why, what's
gone wrong with my jacket? I'm all stuck together. Oh, murder!
whatever is this?"
Maurice again burst into a roar of laughter, which made Dicky
furious.
"Maurice, you addled egg you, what do you see to laugh at?"
But Maurice only laughed the more.
"Ralph! rap him over the costard for me, and then do thou cut
that pie. I'm too sticky to do it myself; and, to tell truth, my
appetite's a'most gone with all this wet, and banging and shaking. I
don't marvel I've got a headache, and feel a bit queer. Ugh! oh! oh,
my! I wish she would not roll and pitch so," said poor Dicky ruefully.
Ralph did as he was told, and by the bright light of the stars and
the lantern which swung in the rigging aloft to show the Captain's
ship, he cut a large slice, and handed it to Dicky. But poor Dicky
shook his head, and gave a little groan.
 "I'll go and shift my clothes," he said, in a shivering voice. "I'm
as wet as a drowned rat; and I can't think why I am so parlous
sticky. I hope you fellows will eat up the pie, and have a merry
time," added poor Dicky bravely.
This touched Maurice.
"Certes, Dicky, you are out of luck. But I'm grievous sad I put
that--"
He broke into a peal of laughter, and could not go on, as he
thought of the ridiculous scene.
"Well, Maurice, I don't see there's much to laugh at," grumbled
Master Cheke.
"Oh--oh--I'm soothly grieved," gasped Maurice repentantly,
trying to speak gravely, and then bursting out into a fresh fit of
uproarious mirth.
At this moment the gruff voice of a man in the bows sung,--
"Sail ho!" "Where away?" rang out from the Master. "On the
starboard beam," came back the answer. "She's bearing up to cross
us."
"Lower away that lantern, and luff a bit--so, steady," sung out
the Master, who, after scanning the strange sail, went below to tell
the Captain.
In a few moments more the crew came tumbling up the
hatches, and the Captain of the Wight appeared in his armour.
Ralph and his fellow-pages went hastily below. The report had
spread through the vessel that the stranger was a French ship, and
that they intended fighting her. This was exciting news to the boys;
they quietly armed themselves, and were returning on deck, when
the piteous voice of Dicky Cheke stopped them.
 "Oh! I am so bad, and I can't get off my coat!--whatever has
come to it?"
"Why, it's all over tar," said Ralph. "You've sat down in a tar
bucket."
Maurice's laughter again broke out uncontrolled, but Dicky, who
now saw the trick that had been played upon him, made a sudden
dash upon him, and pushed his tar-covered elbow in Maurice's face,
which effectually stopped all further laughter, and the two boys fell
over on the floor of the cabin, tussling and struggling, until a kick
from the sergeant-at-arms made them get up and separate; and a
ludicrous sight they both presented as they stood looking at each
other. Dicky's yellow oilskin suit was all blotched and stuck together
by great splashes of tar, while his hair and face were smeared with
the same adhesive substance. Maurice was in very much the same
condition. There was a large smear over his mouth and nose, and
one eye and the side of his cheek were completely blackened.
"Well you be nice young gentlemen to be pages to the Lord
Captain," said the man-at-arms sarcastically. "You'd best get some
one to scrape you. I'm too busy;" so saying, the sergeant left them,
to follow Ralph on deck, where nearly the whole ship's company was
assembled under arms.
"They means to lay us aboard, my lord," said the Master.
"Certes, let them," answered the Captain of the Wight.
"Then all hands had best lie down--some along the lee gunwale,
but most under hatches--or else, as they range up, they'll be afeared
when they see how strong we muster," said the crafty old seaman.
This order was promptly given, and in another minute the decks
looked as deserted as usual, only the ordinary watch required for
working a merchant vessel being left visible.

CHAPTER XXIV.
OF "LA BEALE FRANCE."

There was a faint, pale light away in the north-east, telling of the
coming dawn. Looming up dim and indistinct against the grey
horizon, Ralph, who was armed, and stood near the Captain of the
Wight, saw a dark hull and lofty sails.
The breeze was fresh, and they were now about mid-channel.
The strange sail came topping the waves, which curled and seethed
under her broad bow as she rose on their crests and dipped again in
the trough of the sea. Swiftly she ran down before the salt sea
breeze, and a gallant sight she looked.
"You'd best hide the gleam of your harness, my lord," said the
old master, "or they'll be smelling a rat."
Without stopping to inquire how a gleam could assist a sense of
smell, the Captain of the Wight, accompanied by Ralph, stepped off
the lofty poop and took their stand under the lee gunwale.
"Luff!" sung out the Master, who was carefully watching the
movements of the stranger; and a cloud of spray dashed over the
bow as the head of the ship came more round to the sea.
"That'll do; keep her going so. Ay, ay, my beauty, I sees ye; but
ye need not be in such a hurry--we're a-waiting for you, but 'twon't
do to let you think it; so now up with the helm, and let her fall off a
bit. There, keep her jogging like that: they'll be alongside in another
minute."
From where Ralph stood, by screwing his head a little he could
just see the top of the masts and the round "crow's nests" in the
"tops." The main and fore yards were braced square, and the great
bellying sails stretched out tight as drums before the fresh breeze.
The masts looked so close, he thought she must be aboard of them,
and expected every moment to hear a crash as her stem cut into the
broad stern of his own ship.
"Halloa! you there! you'll be aboard o' us an' you take no more
care," sung out the Master through a speaking-tube.
But no answer came back; and Ralph was suddenly startled by
seeing a long black pole slowly come creeping past the side of their
ship, followed by a high black mass, and then the whole of the fore
part of the vessel seemed to grow suddenly up abreast of where he
was standing. He could plainly hear the sound of the sea as it
dashed against the bluff bows and hurtled between the two hulls.
"Hola! Messieurs les Anglais! rendez-vous," bawled a hoarse
voice.
"Come aboard, then, and take us!" called out the Master, at the
same time motioning to the helmsman to put the helm down, so as
to let her range alongside.
The two vessels were now broadside to broadside, and were
both surging through the sea. The Frenchman had shortened sail so
as to keep alongside of the Captain's vessel. Ralph could see a
crowd of people on board. In another moment a stout rope with a
grapnel attached was thrown on board the Captain's vessel at the
stern, and another caught in the fore chains forward. The two ships
were now lashed alongside.
"'Tis all right now, my lord," called down the Master; "I'll see to
their not getting away while you tackles them on deck."
The Frenchmen had already begun to board the Captain's ship.
A burly Norman seaman, wielding a formidable pike, had leapt over
the bulwark on to the deck, and was rushing forward to knock down
Dicky Cheke, who had suddenly caught sight of his cheese, when
the Frenchman stepped upon it and instantly slipped up with a
fearful exclamation.
"You villain! 'tis my cheese, and you have spoilt it for ever!"
shrieked Dicky Cheke, in a rage.
And without a moment's hesitation he drove his sword into the
Norman's body, amid the cheers of Ralph and the crew, who had
watched the scene.
But now the men-at-arms and archers came pouring up from
below. The Captain, closely followed by Ralph, sprang forward,
shouting "St George for England!" And the Frenchmen, seeing they
had caught a Tartar, sprang back to their own ship, followed fiercely
by the men of the Wight.
The Frenchmen offered but a feeble resistance. They were not
nearly so numerous as the English, and were armed with far less
complete armour. It was an age of cruel reprisals, and it would have
been thought no reflection on the humanity of the Captain of the
Wight had he put the crew of the captured vessel to the sword. But
beyond the few who were killed in the first excitement of the
moment, no further bloodshed followed, and the French prisoners
were transferred to the Captain's vessel, while a sufficient crew was
placed on board the prize, with orders to keep in company and sail
for Guernsey.
This was a glorious beginning, and every one hailed it as a
joyous omen.
The glow of the coming sun flushed up over the pale grey sky.
Creamy and crisp the crests of the tumbling sea sparkled and
flashed in the ruddy light, and the sea dew glittered on spar and
mast and straining sail.
Ralph never tired of watching the bows of the prize as she
crashed through the curling waves, and he felt more than ever the
joy of the full pulse of healthy, vigorous life.
Dicky Cheke had quite recovered his spirits. He felt his
reputation was now firmly established, and he was rendered quite
happy by discovering his ham inside his oil-skin hat. It was soaked in
salt water, it was true, but, as he wisely remarked, that would only
improve the flavour, after it had been dried before the galley fire.
The sun now rose out of the tumbling, restless sea, and Ralph
and the two boys went below to turn in for a short sleep. In another
three hours a loud cry on deck roused them suddenly out of their
troubled doze.
Hastening on deck, they saw a few dark specks, and a high
rock, over which the sea was dashing and leaping; beyond it a black
mass loomed up like a tall hay-cock, and away over the grey sea
was the dim shadow of some high land.
"Where are we? what is it?" asked Ralph.
"'Tis Alderney, and yon is the Casketts, and the Ortach; and
there's a swingeing tide carrying us through," answered an old
seaman.
 And so it seemed, for they flew past the rocks, and staggered
along before the still fresh breeze.
Ralph went below, and dozed off once more. When he awoke
again the motion of the vessel had ceased, but the noise on deck
was great.
"Rouse up, Ralph," called Dicky Cheke. "Here's Guernsey, and
we're to wait here for those heavy-sailing tubs of ours, that haven't
got as far as Alderney yet, I'll warrant."
The whole of that day they spent at anchor off Peter Port. Ralph
admired the grey castle Cornet, and the picturesque outlines of
Herm, Jettou, and Sark, and marvelled greatly at the wonderful
maze of rocks.
About mid-day the masts of the other vessels could be seen
round the south-eastern point under St Martin's, and in a short time
they dropped anchor abreast of the Captain's ship. Their arrival was
greeted by loud cheers from the latter vessel, and the ringing cheers
which came back showed that the others had seen the captured
Frenchman lying inshore of the Captain's ship, with the Cross of St
George waving over the Lilies of France.
The same evening they weighed anchor again, but as the wind
dropped, and the tide was on the turn, the Master thought it better
to run in for Jersey and wait for morning.
The next day at early dawn, with a favouring breeze, they once
more weighed anchor, and stood out of St Helier's Bay. In another
two hours they sighted the high land of Cape Frehel, and with a
fresh breeze and flowing tide they entered the intricate channel of St
Malo.
 "So, this is France, is it?" said Dicky Cheke. "Marry, 'tis a barren
place enough. I thought they called it a fertile land. They must be
parlous odd plants as would grow on these bare rocks. Did you ever
see such a lot of stones? Why, they've so many of them, they've
been forced to throw them into the sea, and so fill up their harbour;
or did they place them here to frighten strangers away?"
They were scudding past the Cezembre, and all its dangerous
reefs; past the Grand Jardin, and in a short time had dropped anchor
in St Malo roadstead.
The arrival of such a squadron as five English ships was an
event in the usually tranquil lives of the inhabitants of St Malo. The
town was held for the Duke of Brittany by a force of men-at-arms
and demi-lances, and a force of Swiss or Allemaynes, as the English
called them, had already arrived, sent by the King of the Romans to
assist his betrothed wife.
The Captain of the Wight was speedily visited by the Governor
of the place, and Ralph was delighted to see, accompanying that
official, his old friend the Sire de la Roche Guemené, who greeted
him with frank courtesy, and welcomed him to Brittany. The capture
of the French vessel was looked upon as a lucky omen.
In the course of the afternoon the vessels were able to come
into the harbour and lie alongside the quay, when the Captain of the
Wight landed in state, and was escorted to his quarters in the town.
Dicky Cheke was in raptures at the size of the town, there being
no place at all to compare with it in the Isle of Wight. Southampton
was the only port with which he could compare it; and he was
astonished at the volubility of the French children.
 "What scholars they be," he said. "They all talk French as easy
as I talk English. But--faugh! I say, Ralph, they like it strong about
here. Oh! I say, these French don't mind rank smells. Phew!"
"Humph! It is something out of the common," said Maurice.
But this was their first experience of French towns and French
sanitation. Not that the towns of England were much better in those
days. But the English, like most Teutonic races, had a habit of
spreading their towns rather more, and the love of a plot of ground,
so inherent in the English mind, kept freer currents of air in their
back premises than in the narrow, cooped up streets of the French
municipalities, hemmed in with lofty walls, and whose enormously
tall houses shut out all daylight from the streets below.
The next few days were occupied in drilling the expeditionary
force, and the Bretons admired the tall, stalwart figures of the men
of the Wight, their martial bearing, and thorough equipment.
The knights and men-at-arms gave a tourney in the level plain
at the back of St Malo, in return for the jousts which the Breton
knights had given in Carisbrooke Castle, and many gallant feats were
done, Ralph Lisle distinguishing himself greatly. Both he and the
other young men enjoyed themselves very much, and they won
universal praise by their courteous bearing and gallant looks.
Hawking and hunting, and the many duties of garrison life,
passed away the time pleasantly enough. But Ralph longed for a
more active scene. He did not care for dances and the gaieties of
the lively French society, and while Dicky Cheke was in his element
talking execrable French with easy self-assurance, Ralph was moping
on the ramparts, or leaning over the parapet of the harbour mole,
watching the fishing-boats and the busy life of the crowded harbour.
He made many expeditions up the Rance and among the numerous
islands of the rocky archipelago, and was fast becoming a hardy
sailor, well acquainted with the set of the tides and the intricacies of
the many dangerous channels. One long expedition he made with
Maurice Woodville as far as the harbour of Cancalle, through the
difficult passage of La Bigne, and gazed upon the marvellous pile of
Mont St Michel, rising out of the desert of sand, and he longed to
visit it. But it was held by a French garrison, the most proud and
enterprising in all France; for there, in the noble "Salle des
Chevaliers," had been instituted in a solemn chapter the Knights of
the Order of St Michel, in 1469, to commemorate the fortress never
having fallen into the hands of the English, and to perpetuate the
brave defence of Louis d'Estouteville in 1427.
There was some danger in this trip, not only from the sunken
rocks and eddying tides, but from the chance of capture by the
boats belonging to the garrison of Mont St Michel; and once they
had a narrow escape from one of these latter, for as they emerged
behind one great pile of granite they saw a boat drawn up on the
rocks on the other side, left high and dry by the tide, and the crew
were busy collecting shellfish on the rocks below. They heard one
man shout out, "Voila! les Anglois," and they saw the others hasten
up to look after them; but evidently they thought it hopeless to try
to catch them, as before they could launch their unwieldy boat the
light shallop of the two boys would be far beyond their reach. It was
a narrow escape, however, and Ralph determined not to go so far
away again.
There was no danger in making expeditions up the Rance, for
Dinan was garrisoned for the Duke of Brittany, and all away to the
west towards St Brieuc and Treguier was faithful to its native prince.
One day, as Ralph returned from one of these expeditions, he was
surprised to see a great stir in their camp. The Allemaynes had
already marched out, and their long pikes and swaggering plumes
could be seen over the hedges, on the road to Rennes. He hastened
up to the Captain's quarters, and learned that orders had come to
break up their camp and march at once to relieve Fougéres.
This was joyful news. The little force was by this time perfectly
disciplined, and in a very short time the tents were struck. The
squad was drawn up, the companies formed, and the column
awaiting the order to march. The two Breton knights were directed
to accompany the English and act as guides.
The Captain of the Wight, in full armour, attended by Sir John
Trenchard and his esquires, put himself at the head of the main
body, and ordered his banner to be unfurled. The trumpets sounded,
and the order to march immediately followed. To Ralph was assigned
the honourable post of accompanying Tom o' Kingston with the
advanced guard.
As they left the sea, the country became more and more fertile.
Sunny orchards and rich pastures, interspersed with pleasant farm-
houses, bore witness to the truth of the proverbial fertility of France;
but traces were also seen of the ravages of war. They were now
approaching Dol, whose grey cathedral could be seen to the east of
a rising bluff, conspicuous in the level landscape. Great care was
requisite in passing this town. The Swiss were halted in a
neighbouring field, and the whole force marched past the walls in
battle order, for Dol had lately been taken by the French troops, and
an attack might be made on the column as it defiled past the grey
old town.
As it was, Ralph saw for the first time in his life a shot fired with
murderous intent. The garrison of Dol, more from defiance than with
hope of doing any execution, trained a coleuvrine upon the head of
the column which was marching past with banners displayed, drums
beating, and trumpets sounding, in all the insolent pomp and
bravery of war. But the shot fell short, and a derisive shout was set
up by the Switzers and English archers. The rest of the march to
Rennes was performed without further adventure. They encamped
the first night at the Chateau de Combourg, near the little stream of
the Dore, which belonged to the Comte de Chateaubriand, who was
then marching upon Rennes with the Duke of Orleans, and the rest
of the army of the Duke of Brittany.
The hearts of all beat high as they approached Rennes, and
heard the sounds of martial music, and saw the glint of spears, and
flash of steel helmet and polished cuirass. Ralph felt very proud as
he rode in front of the English division, beside Tom o' Kingston, clad
in complete armour, and carrying his lance erect, while he entered
the streets of Rennes, the capital of Brittany. The populace had all
turned out to see the redoubted English and Swiss march through
their streets, as allies and friends, and they were greeted cordially. A
very splendid appearance they presented. The uniform of the men of
the Wight, their complete equipment, and their soldierly bearing,
were loudly admired, while the swash-bucklering air of the Swiss
pikemen, with their huge puffed leathern jerkins, great bonnets lined
with steel, and ornamented with feathers, their long swords and
stout pikes, excited much astonishment, for this formidable
mercenary force was as yet only just beginning to be appreciated,
and had never been seen before in Brittany.
There were eight hundred of the Swiss, all wearing the black
imperial two-headed eagle on their padded and slashed buff jerkins.
They marched through the city, and were encamped outside the
walls, on the north.
Fresh troops were continually arriving, and in three days
afterwards the main body, under the Duke of Orleans, the Prince of
Orange, and the Lord d'Albret, marched into the city. Ralph attended
upon the Captain of the Wight, who was sometimes called Lord
Rivers by the Bretons, and enjoyed the spectacle of all this fine body
of men and so many well-known nobles and knights defiling before
him. There was the ducal ermine of Brittany; the golden lilies of
France, with the silver label of Orleans--the lilies quartering the
purple of Albret, the silver bend sinister abating the regal lilies of
Dunois; and the red cross, with its silver escallops, blazing in a
golden shield, with its azure eagles, for Laval. Ducal, princely, noble
banners passed in gay procession before the eyes of the delighted
page, while the splendidly armed cavaliers, attended by their
esquires and varlets, rode past at the head of their squadrons. There
were four hundred steel-clad men-at-arms, and eight thousand foot,
with a large train of artillery, the first that Ralph had ever seen for
use in the field, for the English still trusted to their own peculiar
weapon, the famed long bow of England, for winning victories in the
open field.
In addition to the great names of the feudal chiefs, there were
other Breton lords. The Marechal de Rieux, lately returned to his
allegiance to his lawful Duke; the Lords of Chateaubriand, Leon,
Crenettes, Pont l'Abbé, Plessis, Balines, and Montigny Montuet, and
Ralph was astonished at the gallant show and numbers of the Breton
force.
He little knew what fatal jealousies were burning in the hearts
of those baronial figures as they proudly rode past to the great
square before the Parliament House of Rennes.
There was a great council of war held in the ancient steep-
roofed building. The Captain of the Wight attended, and received a
flattering greeting, as uncle of the Queen of England, and son of the
Lady of Luxemburg. But it was at once apparent to his observant eye
how many difficulties were to be surmounted in handling this
heterogeneous band of high-spirited, proud, and impracticable men.
There were present representatives of five languages--the German,
the French, the Breton, the Basque, and the English; while the
guttural speech of the Gascon nearly made a sixth. And the aims
and objects of their leaders were as diverse as their tongues. Two
suitors for the hand of the Duchess Anne were present in person;
the troops of a third were there to enforce his claims; while opposed
to them all were the armies of the fourth candidate. The jealousies
of personal rivalry were increased by the prejudice of race. The
Bretons disliked and mistrusted the French. The French, with their
amour propre and personal conceit, were disgusted at the
braggadocio and pugnacity of the Gascons; and the English and
Germans did nothing to disguise their natural antipathy and
contempt for the Latin races; while the stubborn Breton opposed
with national and hereditary obstinacy every plan he did not himself
see the use of, or which would bear directly upon the interests of his
land.
 After long debate nothing was decided; only the differences of
the Duke of Orleans and the Lord d'Albret were rendered more
conspicuous, and the nobles dispersed to their respective quarters.
The following week was spent in inaction, much to the disgust
of the Captain of the Wight. The French army, under the celebrated
young commander, Louis de la Tremouille, Vicomte de Thouars, was
pressing hard upon Fougéres, and all men longed to march to its
relief. At last all differences appeared to be accommodated, and the
Duke of Orleans, who was appointed Commander-in-Chief, gave the
order for the army to march. The following night the whole force
encamped at Andouille, a small village half-way between Combourg
and Fougéres. Here another two days were wasted in settling a
somewhat serious quarrel that had broken out at night between the
Gascon followers of the Lord d'Albret and the French followers of the
Duke of Orleans. In the midst of these bickerings, a dusty and
heated messenger arrived to say Fougéres had fallen, and that the
victorious French army was marching to attack them.
Instantly all was confusion. But the startling news had this good
effect--all, with one consent, agreed they must march at once on
Orange, with a view to occupying St Aubin du Cormier, which lay on
the direct road from Fougéres to Rennes.
They also hoped to be able to effect a junction with the garrison
of Fougéres, who had surrendered upon terms that they might
march out with bag and baggage.
But on reaching Orange, which was a small hamlet some six
miles from St Aubin, they heard that the French army was close
upon them. They therefore halted, and spent the night there,
prepared to fight a decisive battle the next day.
 "Well, Ralph, we shall see some fun to-morrow," said Dicky
Cheke. "'Tis Sunday, too; our good folks at Mottestone will be in
church."
"Ay, and where shall we be?" said Ralph thoughtfully.

CHAPTER XXV.
OF ST AUBIN DU CORMIER.[*]

[*] So called from the Service Tree, or Serb Apple Tree, which grows in profusion
all round the village, and to distinguish it from St Aubin d'Audigné nearer Rennes.

The grey mists of early morn were clinging to the dank earth when
Ralph awoke after such snatches of sleep as he could get amid the
noise of that large body of ill-assorted men.
It was Sunday morning, the 27th of July--a day Ralph well
remembered, for it was this very day a year ago he had left his
father's house to seek his fortune in the household of the Captain of
the Wight. What events had taken place since then! He thought of it
all, and his heart beat as he turned to look over the leafy woods, the
steep slopes of the hilly country, with its fresh valleys, whence, amid
the rich foliage of orchard and copse and wide-reaching forest, the
spires of the village churches and the steep gables of nestling farm-
houses rose above the steaming verdure, or peeped out in shy
suggestion. The birds were warbling blithely all around. There was a
tinkle of distant bells, a hum of awakening life, and the soft, warm
fragrance of a midsummer night still floated in the balmy morning
air.
Ralph could not believe that in another few hours he and all that
host of lusty, careless men would be fighting for fame and name,
and very life itself. He had only twice had experience of the fierce
struggle of deadly fight. But his whole training had accustomed him
to it, and he gave little thought to the battle. But the deep bells from
a neighbouring monastery stirred softer thoughts. He thought of his
mother and father, of Thruxton Manor away over the sea, and then
of his cousin Yolande and his promise.
But the trumpets sounding the réveille interrupted all softer
thoughts. The reality of life had begun.
"Well, Ralph, my boy," said the cheerful voice of Dicky Cheke,
"'tis a fine morning for our sport. Marry, I trust you and I will win our
spurs to-day. But come to breakfast. There's a right pleasant smell of
fried eggs and bacon over yonder, and thy man Humphrey hath
gotten a rare fat capon out of some farm hard by. I've asked young
De Rohan to come and share with us, 'twill improve thy French; only
he talks it with such a sad Breton accent I fear me he will mar my
fine tongue. But come along--there he is."
Ralph sauntered back with Dicky. The four boys were soon
laughing and talking over their breakfast. The young Seigneur de
Rohan was a merry addition to their party, and kept them in
constant laughter by his attempts to talk English.
By eight o'clock orders came from the Duke of Orleans for their
division to prepare to march. There had been a very stormy council
of war, and the suspicions of the Breton infantry were so strong, that
to quiet them it was arranged that the Duke of Orleans and the
Prince of Orange should dismount and fight on foot among the
pikemen, a very dangerous service, and one which showed their
courage in the highest degree. But the jealousies between the
infantry and cavalry had reached such a high pitch, that it required
very strenuous exertions to prevent the former marching off the
ground; the Bretons affirming that the French princes only used
them to make cat's-paws of them.
Young De Rohan astonished the pages by saying that seventeen
hundred of the Breton infantry were going to wear the same uniform
as the men of the Wight, in order to make the French think there
were more English than there were. This was a great compliment,
and rejoiced Dicky's heart, for he knew how much more important
the Captain of the Wight would be if he commanded two thousand
instead of four hundred men.
In another hour the whole army was equipped and marching to
its position to the right of a vast forest, the Forêt de la Seve, and
there was already promise of the great heat the coming noon would
bring. The bells of Orange were sounding for morning service, and
the faint tinkle of the other village bells could be heard over the
forest and hills. A deep blue sky spread overhead, and a mellow
haze floated over the horizon. There was scarcely a breath of air,
and the banner of the Captain of the Wight hung in white and
crimson folds down its gilded shaft.
The men of the Wight were now drawn up--the men-at-arms on
the right, the infantry in the centre, and the mounted archers on the
left. All were completely armed, and they had now become a
thoroughly well-disciplined, splendid body of men, typical of the
British army--"The best in the world, if only there were more of
them." The Captain of the Wight, mounted on his black charger,
armed like himself in full plate-armour, rode in front of the line, and
glanced down it with martial pride. Only a few words he said, but
they were fiery, knightly, encouraging words, such as a brave leader
and chivalrous knight knew how to say. He told them of the
compliment the Duke of Orleans was paying them in reinforcing
them with seventeen hundred Breton foot all clad to look like
Englishmen. He reminded them of Crecy, Poictiers, and Agincourt.
He bid them think that the eyes of England, of France, and of their
own dear island home were upon them; and he bid them fight as
became the ancient valour of their name and race. Their quarrel was
a just one, and their foe the natural enemy of their hearths and
homes.
"Men of Yaverland and Brading, remember Sir Theobold Russel,
and how he died for you. Men of Newport, remember Deadman's
Lane and Neddie's Hill. Men of Yarmouth and Newtown, remember
your burning homes and ruined boroughs. Men of the Wight, you are
here to show your manhood, your skill, and your hardihood; that
Frenchmen may see and feel how vain are their vapourings, how
keen are our swords. And here before you all, in the glorious light of
that splendid sun, I draw my blade, vowing never more to sheath it
till the victory is won, or my hand can hold it no more."
As the Captain of the Wight spoke, his sword-blade flashed in
the sun, while he held it aloft over his crested helm.
A ringing cheer answered these stirring words, and Dicky Cheke
murmured to Ralph,--
"In sooth, he is a hero, this Captain of ours, and I am sorry for
the French. We won't be too hard on them, Ralph. I sha'n't ask for
more than a couple of thousand crowns for my prisoners, unless I
take the Sire de la Trimouille himself, and then, as it won't do to
spoil the market, I must make him pay a good round sum--
perchance fifty thousand pistoles, or so; only I will let him off the
last ten if he pays up well;" and Dicky Cheke became quite pensive
as he thought how he would spend his money, and bumped against
Sir John Trenchard, who had ridden down the line with the Captain
to inspect the men.
And now the Breton infantry marched up, all clad alike, and the
eye of their commander kindled as he welcomed them to his
battalion.
"They are sturdy little fellows," said Dicky, surveying them with
a critical air. "But they want beef; they haven't got our breadth of
chest and length of limb."
"You atom, you imp, you," said Maurice Woodville, "when will
you be done with your coxcombery? Why, they are all big enough to
eat you, boots and all."
"Now, Maurice, none o' your sauce. You've never been the same
varlet since you fell into the mud at St Malo, when you were so
frightened by the old cherry woman from whom you filched those
cherries."
Maurice was going to give Dicky a cuff, only Sir John Trenchard
happened to look round, and he drew in his hand again, muttering,
"I'll give it you afterwards; you look out this evening."
But all further talk was put an end to by the arrival of the
Marechal de Rieux, an old and experienced warrior, who had lately
had his castle and town of Ancenix burned to the ground by the
French, and who was eager to revenge himself upon his enemies.
He saluted the Captain of the Wight and his division, and briefly
exchanged a few words with the former. After which Lord Woodville
turned to his escort and said with satisfaction,--
"We have been paid one more courtesy. We are to be the
vanguard of the army, and the very puissant knight the Comte de
Rieux is to lead us."
The order to march now came, and the whole division broke
into column, and took the road to St Aubin, the old Marshal and the
Captain of the Wight with drawn sword riding at their head.
After marching some three miles, and when the houses of St
Aubin du Cormier were just visible over the orchards, they came to a
highroad which their road intersected. Here a halt was called, and
the men were allowed to refresh themselves. The heat was getting
very oppressive.
Ralph and Dicky Cheke wandered off to see the rest of the army
come up.
"Oh, I wish I had put a cabbage leaf inside my helmet,"
groaned Dicky. "I shall be roasted like a chestnut inside its coat. I'm
stewing in my own juice--oh!"
"'Tis a lucky chance we are wearing tabards; look at those men-
at-arms riding with my Lord d'Albret; they must needs be grilled.
They've neither lambrequin nor surcoat, and shine in the sun like
fresh-caught mackerel," answered Ralph.
"What a fine lot they all look! and look at those Allemaynes! I
do like those swash-bucklering varlets. Certes we are a fine show! I
get more and more pitiful when I think of those jackanapes of
Frenchmen yonder. If only they knew it, how much better it would
be, and what a lot of waste of moist humours it would save, if they
just came in and sorted themselves out among us. What a comfort it
would be! Ugh! how parlous moist I am!"
"Look, Dicky, at those coleuvrines and dragons! I am all agog to
see them fire; we've a right plentiful store of artillery, I trow!" said
Ralph. "Not but what I don't believe our archers are worth a
hundred of them, and more, too; but we shall see. Oh, I wish they
would begin. Where are the French, I marvel. Look, our men are
falling in; let's hasten back. There's something going on."
And so there seemed. The English division, forming, with some
Breton men-at-arms and the seventeen hundred infantry, the
vanguard of the army, was standing to its arms. The cavalry were
mounting, and a body of mounted archers was thrown forward
under Tom o' Kingston.
The rest of the army had come up, and the main battle, or
middle ward, as it was called, under the Lord d'Albret, in which was
the fine body of Swiss infantry, conspicuous among whom were the
Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Orange, was drawn up to support
the vanguard.
The rear ward was commanded by the Comte de
Chauteaubriand, whose castle had also been lately razed to the
ground by the army of Charles VIII. The artillery was brought up
and placed upon the flanks of the vanguard, and a small body of
mounted archers was drawn up in support of the clumsy cannon.
As the two boys rode back to their lord, they could see the
general disposition of the army, and their hearts beat high with pride
and excitement.
"This is something like!" said Dicky. "They'll think great things of
us at home when I tell them. I would give a crown our old varlet,
Nick Goodall, saw me here. He'd never say I wasn't good for much
again. Ah! and I wish that saucy little wench who called me a tom-tit
could just see me too. Tom-tit, indeed! Tom-tit, quotha!"
When they reached their own division, they saw the mounted
archers halted on the brow of the rise in front, and the burly form of
Tom o' Kingston sitting his powerful horse, with lance resting on his
steel solleret.
The sun was now pouring down its unclouded heat. The
divisions of the army were all in battle array at half a bow-shot's
length from each other, and were echeloned along the high road
from Fougéres to Rennes, with the great wood of La Seve in their
rear.
As Ralph, sitting his horse, his cousin Yolande's present, by the
side of the Captain of the Wight, turned round to look at the
splendid sight behind him, where helm, and crest, and spear point
flashed in the glowing sun, and where the gay banners of the nobles
gently fluttered in the light summer air, he heard a whizz, and turned
quickly round.
"Hullo, Ralph!" said Maurice Woodville, "what's that archer
tumbled off his horse for? Is he in a swoon from the heat, think you?
and look, they're beginning to shoot. Why, it must be the enemy on
the other side of the hill."
"We shall know directly. Look, there's old De Rieux going
forward, and so are we. Now, Dicky, you'll get your money, look to
your lance," said Ralph, as the Captain of the Wight and his esquires
put spurs to their horses and rode up to the crest of the hill.
"Ma foi, c'est de l'Hôpital, et ses gaillards. Je le connais par ses
armoiries. Et voila! Gabriel de Monfalzois, c'est lui, a gauche, le petit,
monté sur le grand hacquené. Aha! mon rusé soudard, c'est toi qui a
brulé mon chateau," said the Marechal de Rieux, pointing to a
squadron of men-at-arms who had halted out of bow-shot in the
valley below. Two or three arbalisters had dismounted, and one had
advanced within shot, and it was his quarrel which had struck the
English archer off his horse; but Ralph was delighted to see a shot
from one of their own men, who had also dismounted, take effect on
the Frenchman, for he threw up his hands and fell to the ground.
"Who's that?" said Lord Woodville, who had seen the shot.
"What! is't thou, David Urry? here's a gold piece for thee for having
dropped the first Frenchman to-day."
"Shall we charge them, my lord," said the Captain, turning to
the old baron.
"Mais non, milord, ce n'est rien," replied the tough Marshal.
The vanguard, however, was advanced to the brow of the hill;
the cannon were also brought forward, and the enemy retired.
Another hour of broiling heat ensued. The men became restive.
Murmurs at this prolonged inaction could be heard on all sides; and
here and there the cry so fatal to French arms, and, at the same
time so useful to explain their defeats, was heard--"Nous sommes
trahis."
At last, about one o'clock, the gleam of lances could be seen
among the trees which skirted the road below, and the cloud of
dust, which rose above the foliage, told of a moving host.
"They're coming now, Dicky," said Ralph; "we shall soon begin."
"Poor fools!" said Dicky, contemptuously; "I am sorry for them;
but, after all, 'tis what we've come for. I shall keep my eye on a
knave in a good suit of armour, and well mounted, too. None of your
scurvy beggars for me. And, Ralph, I'll stand you a good supper to-
night, if I am not all melted away. Marry, I am hot!"
"Look at the cannon they are bringing up," said Maurice.
"Humph! I hope our fellows will knock them over."
"They've brought them near enough. Why ever don't our knaves
begin? Ah! there they go," added Dicky, as a flash and cloud of
smoke flew out, and a loud report followed, causing all the horses of
the men-at-arms to prance and rear, and unseating several of their
riders.
"Well, that did do a parlous deal of harm! there's more off on
our side than there is on the other," said Dicky. "But, mercy on us,
what a whizz!" he added, ducking his head; "whose head's off, I
marvel!" as a round shot came hurtling through the air, without
doing any harm, however.
"We'd best retire our men behind the brow of the hill," said Lord
Woodville. The division was, therefore, ordered back a few yards,
and moved a little to the right, so as to be out of the line of fire.
The artillery duel greatly amused the boys, and Dicky longed to
dismount and catch one of the iron balls as they came bounding
along, until he saw one strike a stout Swiss pikeman, and knock him
down, where he lay a dreadful sight.
"Certes! I'm glad I thought better of it," said Dicky. "Who'd have
thought there was such might in those bumping iron bowls."
"'Tis a game where you'd best not be a ninepin," said Ralph;
"but when are we to move? Oh! I am roasted alive! I would I could
look over the brow of the hill and see what our artillery is doing. Ah!
there goes another. Mercy on us! but it's knocked over four at once--
and--ah! 'tis a fearful sight. How they writhe! Poor wretches! Look!
there's Tom o' Kingston down, and Oglander, and--ah! why don't we
charge; they've got our distance. Ah! they've stopped, thank the
saints!" and Ralph became calmer as the noise ceased.
"Look, Ralph, there's a smash! Cannon, and master gunner, and
all, gone to bits. What a shot!"
But this was the last shot. The smoke blew away, causing Dicky
to sniff and sputter at the smell of the saltpetre.
"Faugh, what a foul mixture. Phew! Ah, it's got down my throat.
Hullo, what are we up to now? Oh, I see, we're to become footmen.
Well, I'd rather be a-horseback. But there, there; it's all one in this
roasting heat. Body o' me, I'm swimming in my harness."
But only the Captain of the Wight, and Ralph, with the rest of
the esquires, and the Marshal de Rieux, dismounted. Dicky Cheke
and Maurice Woodville were ordered to take their lords' horse, with
the other animals, to the rear, and bring them back when the fight
was over. This was grievous news to the two boys. But there was no
help for it, and they retired with a very crestfallen air.
The dismounted knights and esquires had barely time to get
inside the square of pike men when the fluttering pennons of the
enemies' men-at-arms could be seen over the brow of the hill.
"Here they come," said Tom o' Kingston, who had had his horse
killed under him, but was not otherwise hurt. "Now, my knaves,
think what they'll say at home, and let us play the man."
 HOW THE MEN OF THE WIGHT WITHSTOOD THE FRENCH.

And now the serried ranks of the French men-at-arms, their

helms well down, the shields before their left arms, and with lances
in rest, came cantering over the rise in front.
"Now, archers, let fly your shafts," cried the Captain of the
Wight, and a twanging sound instantly followed, for every archer
knew what was coming, and had already put his arrow on the string.
The rushing sound which fluttered in the air was succeeded by a
splintering crack or dull thud, or heavier groan, as the shafts flew
home. And many a gallant man-at-arms fell to the ground in the
death sob. But still fresh ranks came topping the hill, and fierce
shouts arose. "A bas les Anglais! Tuez les!" from the steel-clad
figures who cantered onward in grim resolve.
Some few of the foe would not be refused, and in spite of cloth
yard shaft and sturdy pike, pushed home into the first ranks of the
square, but only to perish under the daggers of the footmen, or be
kept as prisoners to be held to ransom afterwards.
The bravery of these men-at-arms was very conspicuous. They
rode up to the face of the square and thrust fiercely with their long
lances at the pikemen, and bodies of two or three would charge at
full speed upon the halberds, and then leap their horses over the
first ranks. But the men of the Wight stood firm, and although a
heavy groan or occasional scream would tell of a deadly wound or
ghastly thrust, no opening had been made, and still the grey goose
shaft did its deadly and silent work.
"Well done, my merry men," called out the clear voice of the
Captain of the Wight. "We will tell of this round many a cheerful
yule-tide fire."
But Ralph did not like this way of fighting. He had pictured the
battle to himself as a charge of gallant knights, where individual
prowess would have a chance of distinction. As yet he had
exchanged no blows, and he longed to get out of the stifling mass of
crowded infantry.
There now came a lull. The closely thronging men-at-arms
seemed daunted by the bold face of the English footmen. They drew
off, and retired behind the brow of the hill, followed by the deadly
arrows of the archers.
 "Bravo, Messieurs les Anglais," said the deep voice of the tough
old Marechal de Rieux. "I vish nevare to be vid more better
fantassins. I mak you mes felicitations."
The hill became thick with lances, and a tall and very graceful
knightly figure could be seen riding amid a press of splendidly armed
knights.
"Aha, voila, Monsieur de la Trimouille! C'est un jeune homme
tres capable, et un chevalier sans peur et sans reproche. Il est
Capitaine pour le Roi, et Vicomte de Thouars. Enfin notre affaire, va
commencer!"
The cavalry seemed now to avoid the vanguard, and the men of
the Wight had every reason to be proud of themselves. They had
driven off the foe, and had made themselves respected. Most of the
young men of the Wight thought the victory was won, and
exchanged many a merry jest at the expense of the defeated
French.

CHAPTER XXVI.
HOW "THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST WERE A' WEDE
AWAY."

In this pause of the battle, Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville, with
the custrels and varlets who were looking after the horses of the
dismounted knights and esquires, took refuge in the square, and the
men began to take the affair a little more easily.