"Save Austria! rescue!" he faltered with his dying breath.
Duke Leopold, who was pushing through the confused throng, heard him and
caught the banner from his dying hand. Again it waved aloft, but now
crimsoned with the blood of its defender.
The Swiss, determined to capture it, pressed upon its princely bearer,
surrounded him, cut down on every side the warriors who sought to defend
him and the standard.
"Since so many nobles and knights have ended their days in my cause, let
me honorably follow them," cried the despairing duke, and in a moment he
rushed into the midst of the hostile ranks, vanishing from the eyes of
his attendants. Blows rained on his iron mail. In the pressure of the
crowd he fell to the earth. While seeking to raise himself again in his
heavy armor, he cried, in his helpless plight, to a Swiss soldier, who
had approached him with raised weapon,--
"I am the Prince of Austria."
The man either heard not his words, or took no heed of princes. The
weapon descended with a mortal blow. Duke Leopold of Austria was dead.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246