The monk would certainly have been slain, but at that moment began the general rout of the French, and in a short time he found himself surrounded by Flemings, with the golden knight at their head. Guy approached him, and hastily whispered to him:
"Oh, Robert! my brother! how I thank God for sending you to our aid! You have delivered the—"
The golden knight returned no answer, but interrupted him by placing his finger on his mouth, as if to say, ''Silence! it is a secret." Adolf, too, had observed the sign, and bore himself as though he did not recognize the Count of Flanders. Meanwhile the French were completing their own destruction. The Flemings pursued them closely, despatching every fallen horseman with their clubs and halberds. Horses and men were trampled down into the moist ground; the grass of the meadows was no longer visible, nor the Groningen brook; everywhere were the ghastly corpses of the slain. The cries of the wounded and dying mingled with the exulting shouts of the Flemings, the flourish of trumpets, the clash of swords upon the coats-of-mail, and the dismal shrieks of the dying horses. The low rumbling of a volcano on the eve of an eruption may convey some faint notion of the terrors of that scene.
The town-clock of Courtrai struck nine ere the routed horsemen of De Nesle and De Chatillon reached the Seneschal d'Artois. Scarcely had the first fugitives brought him tidings of the defeat, than he resolved in his blind rage to attack the Flemings with his still numerous reserve. It was all in vain that some of the knights tried to dissuade him; followed by his men, he dashed wildly through and over the crowd of fugitives. The fury of their attack compelled Guy's army to fall back again behind the Groningen brook; for there the carcasses of horses formed a sort of breastwork, and impeded the action of cavalry.
The French knights could not keep their footing on the slippery soil: they fell over one another, and buried one another in the morass. Messire d'Artois lost all self-command: with some intrepid knights, he sprang across the brook and fell on the ranks of the Flemings. After a brief conflict, in which many Flemings were slain, he succeeded in seizing the great banner of Flanders, and tore a large piece of it away, with the front paw of the Lion on it. A cry of rage ran through the Flemish ranks—''Strike him dead! strike him dead!" The seneschal strove with all his strength to wrench the standard from Segher Lonke; but Brother William, throwing away his sword, sprang toward the horse of Messire d'Artois, threw his sinewy arms round the general's neck, hurled him from his saddle, and both rolled together to the ground. The Butchers had now come up; and Jan Breydel, burning to avenge the insults offered by Robert d'Artois to the standard of Flanders, struck of his right arm at a blow. The hapless seneschal saw that his end was near, and asked if there were no one of noble blood at hand to whom he might with honor surrender his sword? But his words were unintelligible to the Butchers, and were lost in their wild cry of vengeance: they hacked and hewed the luckless knight until death ended his sufferings.
While this was going on, Brother William had hurled the Chancellor Pierre Flotte to the ground, and had raised his sword to cleave his skull in twain. The Frenchman implored mercy; but Brother William, with a scornful laugh, struck him so violently on the back of the neck that he fell dead upon his face. De Tancarville and D'Aspremont perished in like manner beneath the arm of the golden knight; Guy clove the head of Renold de Longueval with a single blow; the kings of Majorca and Melinde, and more than a hundred nobles, fell beneath the blows of the men of Ghent.
The golden knight was now fighting, on the left wing, against a large body of horsemen; at his side were his brother Guy and Adolf van Nieuwland. The latter threw himself every moment upon the enemy; and was so often in imminent danger of death that it seemed as though he had resolved to die before the eyes of the Lion of Flanders. Matilda's father sees me! thought he; and his breath came more freely, his muscles acquired new strength, and his spirit rose with a loftier contempt of death. The golden knight warned him repeatedly not to expose himself so recklessly; but these warnings sounded in Adolf's ears like the sweetest praise, and made him only more rash and daring. It was fortunate for him that a stronger arm than his own shielded his life, and that one was by his side who had vowed, in true paternal love, to protect him to the utmost of his power.
A single banner alone now remained standing in all the French host; the royal standard still waved its glittering folds, its silver lilies, and all the sparkling jewels with which the arms of France were embroidered. Guy pointed with his hand to the place where it stood, and cried to the golden knight, "Yonder stands our prize!"
They redoubled their efforts to break through the French host; but without avail, until Adolf van Nieuwland, finding a favorable spot, pierced alone the masses of the enemy, and fought his way to the great standard.
