The mailed knights thought no more of their men, unless it was some particular favourite, than of a hound slashed by a boar's tusk in the chase.
When the first flush of his excitement had passed, Felix, thinking over the scene of the morning as he took his horses down to water at the stream, became filled at first with contempt, and then with indignation.
That the first commander of the age should thus look on while the wall was won before his eyes, and yet never send a strong detachment, or move himself with his whole army to follow up the advantage, seemed past understanding.

If he did not intend to follow it up, why permit such desperate ventures, which must be overwhelmed by mere numbers, and could result only in the loss of brave men?
And if he did permit it, why did he not, when he saw they were overthrown, send a squadron to cover their retreat?
To call such an exhibition of courage "a main of cocks", to look on it as a mere display for his amusement, was barbarous and cruel in the extreme.

He worked himself up into a state of anger which rendered him less cautious than usual in expressing his opinions.
The king was not nearly so much at fault as Felix, arguing on abstract principles, imagined.

He had long experience of war, and he knew its extreme uncertainty.

The issue of the greatest battle often hung on the conduct of a single leader, or even a single man-at-arms.