"Farewell, farewell all, noble sons of Flanders, my true brothers-in-arms!"
In the courtyard he mounted his horse and resumed his armor; then he lowered his vizor, and rode through the gateway. A countless multitude was there assembled; and as soon as they caught sight of the golden knight, they drew back on both sides to make way for him, and greeted him with exulting acclamations.
"Hail to the golden knight! victory! victory! Hail to our deliverer!"
They clapped their hands, they gathered the earth he trod, and kept it as a sacred relic; for in their simplicity they believed that St. George, who had been invoked during the battle in every church of Courtrai, had come to their aid in this majestic form. The slow measured tread of the knight, and his deep silence, confirmed them in their belief; and many fell on their knees as he passed by them. They followed him for more than a league into the country, and it seemed as if their gaze of veneration could never be satiated; for the longer they gazed, the more wonderful did the golden knight appear in their eyes. Their fancy lent him the form and features wherewith the saints are wont to be depicted; one sign from Robert would have laid them in the dust prostrate and adoring.
At length he gave his horse the spur, and vanished like an arrow into the wood. The people strove long to catch the gleam of his golden armor between the trees—but in vain; his charger had borne him far beyond the range of their vision ; and then they looked sadly on each other and said with a sigh:
''He has gone back to heaven again!"
CHAPTER IX
Of the sixty thousand men whom Philip the Fair had sent to lay waste Flanders, only seven thousand succeeded in returning to France. Guy de St. Pol had gathered five thousand men at Lille, and hoped to march them safely to France: but a division of the Flemish army fell on them, and after an obstinate conflict nearly all who had fled from Courtrai were overcome and slain. The "excellente Chronike" tells us:
"And the number of those who fled and escaped may have been in all about three thousand men, sole remains of the enormous host which had gone forth to plunder and lay waste Flanders: and these had a tale to tell at home which was far from being edifying or joyous."
All the most illustrious nobles and bravest knights were slain at Courtrai. There was scarcely a castle of France where there was not wailing and lamentation for the death of a husband, a father, or a brother. The Flemish generals took care that the fallen kings and knights should receive honorable burial in the abbey of Groningen, as appears from an ancient painting still to be seen in St. Michael's Church at Courtrai. There is also in the Museum of Messire Goethals-Vercruyssen at Courtrai a stone which once lay on the grave ol King Sigis; it bears his arms, and the following inscription:
"In the year of our Lord MCCCII, on St. Benedict's day, was fought the battle of Courtrai. Under this stone lies buried King Sigis. Pray God for his soul! Amen."
Besides the vessels of gold, costly stuffs, and rich armor, there were found on the battle-field more than seven hundred golden spurs, which knights alone had the privilege of wearing; these were suspended with the captured banners from the vault of our Lady's church at Courtrai, and thence this battle acquired the name of “The Battle of the Golden Spurs.” Several thousand horses also fell into the hands of the Flemings, who used them with great effect in subsequent battles. In front of the gate of Courtrai which opens toward Ghent, in the centre of the battle-field, there was in the year 1831 a chapel of our Lady of Groningen; on its altar were to be deciphered the names of the French knights who had fallen in the fight, and one of the genuine old spurs of gold was still suspended from the vault. In Courtrai the anniversary of the battle was kept as a day of public rejoicing, and its memory still lingers in a Kermes, which is called the Vergaderdagen, or day of gathering. Every year in the month of July, the poor of Courtrai go from house to house begging for old clothes, which they sell in commemoration of the sale of the rich booty of 1302. Then, accompanied by a player on the violin, they betake themselves to the Pottelberg, the old camp of the French, and drink and dance until evening.
When tidings of this terrible defeat reached France, the whole court was filled with consternation and grief. Philip burst into a furious passion with Joanna of Navarre, whose evil counsels were the cause of all these disasters, and of all their consequences; and his reproaches may be read in some quaint contemporary verses by Lodwyk van Vilthem. The historians of France, indeed, have described Joanna in much brighter colors; but it is an amiable peculiarity of their national character to handle very indulgently the vices of their monarchs, at least of their dead monarchs; and it is an undoubted truth that the Flemish chronicles give a far more trustworthy description of the odious disposition of Queen Joanna.
The magistrates of Ghent, who were all Lilyards, and thought that King Philip would send a fresh expedition into Flanders with all haste, closed their gates, intending to hold out their city as long as possible for France. But they met their punishment at the hands of the men of Ghent them selves. The people rushed to arms, the magistrates and every other Lilyard were put to death, and Guy received the keys of the city, and with them a pledge of everlasting fidelity, from
