Part 6 (1/2)

For over an hour Redward lay awake pondering over the events of the day, but just as sleep was about to gain the mastery, a hoa.r.s.e shout fell upon his ear. Another followed, and a veritable babel of shrieks betokened that something untoward was happening in the village.

CHAPTER III

OF THE MIDNIGHT DESCENT OF THE FRENCH INVADERS

THE first shout was enough to rouse the old archer into active alertness, for, with his experience of camp life, he was accustomed to awaken readily at the least noise. Hastily springing up, he rushed to the window, swung aside the wooden flap and the flimsy fabric that served to admit the light, and looked out. The darkness was intense, save for some small tongues of dark red flame that were beginning to shoot up from one of the houses near the waterside, the fire casting a dull glare upon the neighbouring buildings and serving but to intensify the inky blackness of the night.

”A fire,” he said aloud, yet on second thoughts the ever-increasing shrieks, groans, shouts, and curses that were borne on the air belied his surmise. Moreover, his quick ear detected commands and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns in a foreign language--the tongues of Picardy, Normandy, and Spain.

His ready brain grasped the situation--it must be a raid by the French and Spaniards, who at that time swarmed in the English Channel.

These inroads upon our sh.o.r.es by the French during the Hundred Years'

War are apt to be ignored or lightly pa.s.sed over by modern historians, yet during a time when England was busy pouring the best of her blood and treasure into France there was hardly a town on the South Coast that escaped the ravages of the French and their allies, the Spaniards and Genoese.

”Awake! awake! Raymond!” shouted his father. ”The French are upon us!”

Raymond sprang up and began to hastily don his clothes, while the archer laid hands on every heavy article in the room, barricading the door and securing the windows. Then, having made ready his bow, he again looked out towards the village.

By this time a series of unequal combats were taking place in the narrow streets or within the houses, where the terrified inhabitants were being routed out like rabbits. All who came across the path of the ruthless invaders were cut down without mercy--men, women, and children--while their homes were being plundered and afterwards fired by men to whom the sacking of a town was almost a familiar task.

To add to the din the church bell was ringing a violent tocsin, and all who were able to escape fled either to the stout Norman tower to seek shelter, or else across the open country towards the town of Southampton.

Raymond, white-faced with pardonable fear and shaking in every limb, now joined his father. Flight for them was now out of the question, for already some of the foemen had pa.s.sed the house, hard in pursuit of a party of fugitives, the slowest of whom fell under the weapons of the relentless marauders. Like bloodhounds on the trail, this band of pursuers pa.s.sed by the solitary house, ignoring its existence or else meaning to plunder it at their leisure after the chase of the fugitives was ended.

Suddenly four or five dark figures, silhouetted against the now bright glare of the burning village, came running up the hill and headed straight for the house.

”Quickly, Raymond, notch a shaft!” hissed the archer, and setting an example, he fitted an arrow to his bow and waited, with the weapon slightly bent, the opportunity to let fly.

”By St. George, they are our friends!” exclaimed Redward.

”Andrew Walter! d.i.c.k!” he shouted. ”This way, for your lives, and ye are safe!” And throwing his great bulk against the barricade behind the door, he moved it sufficiently to enable the door to be opened to admit the fugitives.

Then the furniture was replaced against the door, and the men sank breathless and panic-stricken on the floor. There were six in all, so that the little garrison now amounted to eight men, whereof three had had experience in warfare.

”Get ye up!” ordered Redward roughly. ”Think ye that I opened my doors to allow a set of cowardly curs to lie about my hearth? Up with ye!”

Stung by the rebuke, the men armed themselves with bow and sword, gripping their weapons with newborn resolve.

”Ah, by Our Lady, 'tis well ye look on the right side o' things. But if we are to see the light of another day we must stand firm,” said the archer grimly. ”And,” he added, ”let no man loose bow till I give the word, and may G.o.d and St. George look favourably upon us this night!”

”Ay, gossip!” replied Walter Bevis, a veteran of Falkirk. ”An' if we cannot live we can at least die like Englishmen! But, who comes?”

Another dark figure came flying up the hill, hotly pursued by half a score of Frenchmen.

”'Tis Will Lightfoot, of Hook!” replied one of the defenders. ”Run, Will, run!”

”Now loose!” cried Redward, and immediately five arrows flew on their deadly errand. It was the first time that Raymond had seen a shaft sped in anger, and the sight thrilled him strangely. The pursuers, standing out strongly against the glare, made easy marks; four of them fell face forwards on the ground, writhing in mortal agony; the fifth, struck in the right fore-arm, dropped his sword and yelled l.u.s.tily. The others, amazed at meeting with any attempt at organised resistance, turned and fled towards the village, two more falling as the result of a second flight of the deadly arrows.