Part 20 (1/2)

I think Cyril was a perfect silly to wish for a castle, and I don't want to play.”

”It _isn't_”--Robert was beginning sternly, but Anthea interrupted--

”Oh yes, you do,” she said coaxingly; ”it's a very nice game, really, because they can't possibly get in, and if they do the women and children are always spared by civilised armies.”

”But are you quite, quite sure they _are_ civilised?” asked Jane, panting. ”They seem to be such a long time ago.”

”Of course they are.” Anthea pointed cheerfully through the narrow window. ”Why, look at the little flags on their lances, how bright they are--and how fine the leader is! Look, that's him--isn't it, Robert?--on the gray horse.”

Jane consented to look, and the scene was almost too pretty to be alarming. The green turf, the white tents, the flash of pennoned lances, the gleam of armour, and the bright colours of scarf and tunic--it was just like a splendid coloured picture. The trumpets were sounding, and when the trumpeters stopped for breath the children could hear the cling-clang of armour and the murmur of voices.

A trumpeter came forward to the edge of the moat, which now seemed very much narrower than at first, and blew the longest and loudest blast they had yet heard. When the blaring noise had died away, a man who was with the trumpeter shouted--

”What ho, within there!” and his voice came plainly to the garrison in the gate-house.

”Hullo there!” Robert bellowed back at once.

”In the name of our Lord the King, and of our good lord and trusty leader Sir Wulfric de Talbot, we summon this castle to surrender--on pain of fire and sword and no quarter. Do ye surrender?”

”_No_” bawled Robert; ”of course we don't! Never, _Never, NEVER_!”

The man answered back--

”Then your fate be on your own heads.”

”Cheer,” said Robert in a fierce whisper. ”Cheer to show them we aren't afraid, and rattle the daggers to make more noise. One, two, three! Hip, hip, hooray! Again--Hip, hip, hooray! One more--Hip, hip, hooray!” The cheers were rather high and weak, but the rattle of the daggers lent them strength and depth.

There was another shout from the camp across the moat--and then the beleaguered fortress felt that the attack had indeed begun.

It was getting rather dark in the room above the great gate, and Jane took a very little courage as she remembered that sunset _couldn't_ be far off now.

”The moat is dreadfully thin,” said Anthea.

”But they can't get into the castle even if they do swim over,” said Robert. And as he spoke he heard feet on the stair outside--heavy feet and the clang of steel. No one breathed for a moment. The steel and the feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert sprang softly to the door. He pulled off his shoes.

”Wait here,” he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the boots and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man was there--and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he was fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked the drawbridge. Robert banged the door suddenly, and turned the great key in the lock, just as Jakin sprang to the inside of the door. Then he tore downstairs and into the little turret at the foot of the tower where the biggest window was.

”We ought to have defended _this_!” he cried to the others as they followed him. He was just in time. Another man had swum over, and his fingers were on the window-ledge. Robert never knew how the man had managed to climb up out of the water. But he saw the clinging fingers, and hit them as hard as he could with an iron bar that he caught up from the floor. The man fell with a splash into the moat-water. In another moment Robert was outside the little room, had banged its door and was shooting home the enormous bolts, and calling to Cyril to lend a hand.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The man fell with a splash into the moat-water]

Then they stood in the arched gate-house, breathing hard and looking at each other.

Jane's mouth was open.

”Cheer up, Jenny,” said Robert,--”it won't last much longer.”

There was a creaking above, and something rattled and shook. The pavement they stood on seemed to tremble. Then a crash told them that the drawbridge had been lowered to its place.

”That's that beast Jakin,” said Robert. ”There's still the portcullis; I'm almost certain that's worked from lower down.”