And then, as if impelled by a sudden and vehement inspiration, he stooped and took some mold from the ground; and placing it in his mouth, he raised his voice and cried:
"By this beloved earth, which I will bear within me to the fight, this day will I either conquer or die!"
And the whole host in like manner stooped, and swallowed each a little earth from the soil of their fatherland. This soil, so beloved, seemed to inspire their breasts with a calm concentrated rage, and a dark unrelenting yearning for revenge. A low and hollow murmur, like the rumbling of a tempest in the recesses of a cavern, was heard throughout the excited host; their cries, their oaths, became blended in one terrifice mass of sounds, among which were barely distinguishable the words, "We are ready and resolved to die!"
Again and in haste the order of battle was formed, and each returned to his position in front of the Groningen brook.
Meanwhile Robert d'Artois, accompanied by some French generals, had approached close to the Flemish army to reconnoitre it. His archers were then brought forward and opposed to Guy's slingers, and the outposts exchanged a few arrows and stones while Robert was pushing forward his cavalry. Observing that Guy had disposed his troops in line, he arranged his own in three divisions; the first, under Raoul de Nesle, was ten thousand strong; the second, which he retained under his own command, was formed of the choicest companies, and numbered fifteen thousand picked horsemen; the third, destined for the defense of the rear and of the camp, he entrusted to Guy de St. Pol. While he was thus preparing for a tremendous attack on the Flemish position, Messire John de Barlas, captain of the foreign companics, came to him, and addressed him in these words:
"For God's sake, Messire d'Artois, let me and my men be engaged in the battle; let not the flower of the French knighthood be exposed to die by the hands of this Flemish rabble, maddened as they are by rage and despair. I know their customs well; they have left their provisions and munitions in the city. Do you remain here in order of battle, and I, with my light horse, will cut them ofif from Courtrai, and keep them occupied with a feigned attack. The Flemings are great eaters; and if we can cut ofif their supplies, they will very soon be compelled by hunger to change their position, and we shall be able to attack them on more favorable ground than this; you will thus destroy all this rabble without shedding a drop of noble blood."
The Constable de Nesle, and many other knights, thought this counsel worthy of attention; but Robert, blinded by passion, would not even listen to them, and commanded John de Barlas to hold his peace.
During these preparations time had passed away; it was now seven o'clock in the morning; the French host were within two slings' cast of the Flemings. Between the French archers and the slingers lay the Mosscher brook, so that they could not come to close quarters; and very few fell on either side. Then Robert d'Artois gave Raoul de ISTesle, general of the first division, the signal to begin the attack.
The horsemen sprang eagerly onward, and soon came to the Mosscher brook; but here they sank saddle-deep in the morass. One stumbled over another; the foremost were thrown from their horses, and either slain by the slingers or stifled in the swamp. The few who contrived to extricate themselves retreated at full speed, and dared not venture to expose themselves a second time so recklessly. The Flemings meanwhile stood motionless behind the second brook, looking on at the discomfiture of the enemy in silent composure.
When the Constable de Nesle saw that the passage was impracticable for cavalry, he came to Messire d'Artois, and said:
"Of a truth I tell you. Count, that we are exposing our men to great danger, by trying to force them over the brook; there is not a horse that either will or can ford it. Let us rather try to entice the enemy from their position. Believe me, you are staking all against fearful odds in this game."
But the general was too far carried away by vexation and anger to pay any attention to this wise counsel. "Constable," exclaimed he furiously, "that is advice befitting Lombards! Are you frightened at this pack of wolves, or are you of the same breed with them?"
Raoul, stung by this reproof, and by the insinuation it conveyed, burst forth in unrestrained wrath. He came up close to the general, and answered with an expression of bitter disdain:
"You throw doubt on my courage! you dare to taunt and insult me! But, I ask you, have you courage to go with me on foot and alone into the thick of the foe? I would lead you so far that you would return no more—"
Here some of the knights threw themselves between the angry generals, and endeavored by every argument to convince the seneschal that the brook was not fordable by cavalry; but he persisted in his refusal to listen to them, and ordered Raoul de Nesle to renew the charge.
The constable, beside himself with vexation, rode furiously with his
