He could still keep his feet and use his arms; and when the faithful servant brought up a horse and helped his master to mount, Paul felt that giddy and weak and suffering as he was, he could yet make shift to ride as far as it would be needful to do.

The royal pennon floating over a certain tent not so very far away told him that his goal might yet be reached before his strength deserted him.

The fiery spirit of which he again partook gave him temporary power.

He scarce knew what he wished to do, save that he must stand beside his prince when he was brought to Edward's presence, and if harm befell him there, share it with him, as he had shared his peril that fatal day.
"Save yourself, good Adam," he said to his servant when he was once mounted; "I am going to follow the prince.

But come not near the enemy's lines yourself, lest mischief befall you." And before the astonished servant could speak a word of remonstrance, Paul had set spurs to his horse and had galloped off in the direction of the enemy's camp.
Within the lines there was the confusion incident to a battle, and no one heeded the battered rider, who, his helmet left behind and his mail dinted and disfigured by the hard blows it had received, had nothing about him to show to which army he belonged.