thine own life depends on thy safe return

Not here — not here, said the unfortunate Queen; pray not here, father, or pray in silence — my mind is too much torn between the past and the present, to dare to approach the heavenly throne — Or, if we will pray, be it for one whose fondest affections have been her greatest crimes, and who has ceased to be a queen, only because she was a deceived and a tender-hearted woman.
Were it not well, said Roland, that I rode somewhat nearer the hosts, and saw the fate of the day? Do so, in the name of God, said the Abbot; for if our friends are scattered, our flight must be hasty — but beware thou approach not too nigh the conflict; there is more than thine own life depends on thy safe return.
Oh, go not too nigh, said Catherine; but fail not to see how the Seytons fight, and how they bear themselves. The column of the assailants, which had hitherto shown one dark, dense, and united line of helmets, surmounted with plumage, was at once broken and hurled in confusion down the hill, which they had so long endeavoured to gain. In vain were the leaders heard calling upon their followers to stand to the combat, and seen personally resisting when all resistance was evidently vain. They were slain, or felled to the earth, or hurried backwards by the mingled tide of flight and pursuit. What were Roland’s feelings on beholding the rout, and feeling that all that remained for him was to turn bridle, and endeavour to ensure the safety of the Queen’s person! Yet, keen as his grief and shame might be, they were both forgotten, when, almost close beneath the bank which he occupied, he saw Henry Seyton forced away from his own party in the tumult, covered with dust and blood, and defending himself desperately against several of the enemy who had gathered around him, attracted by his gay armour. Roland paused not a moment, but pushing his steed down the bank, leaped him amongst the hostile party, dealt three or four blows amongst them, which struck down two, and made the rest stand aloof; then reaching Seyton his hand, he exhorted him to seize fast on his horse’s mane.
We live or die together this day, said he; keep but fast hold till we are out of the press, and then my horse is yours.
Seyton heard and exerted his remaining strength, and, by their joint efforts, Roland brought him out of danger, and behind the spot from whence he had witnessed the disastrous conclusion of the fight. But no sooner were they under shelter of the trees, than Seyton let go his hold, and, in spite of Roland’s efforts to support him, fell at length on the turf. Trouble yourself no more with me, he said; this is my first and my last battle — and I have already seen too much to wish to see the close. Hasten to save the Queen — and commend me to Catherine — she will never more be mistaken for me nor I for her — the last sword-stroke has made an eternal distinction.
Let me aid you to mount my horse, said Roland, eagerly, and you may yet be saved — I can find my own way on foot — turn but my horse’s head westward, and he will carry you fleet and easy as the wind.