Part 7 (1/2)

All preparations for the attack having apparently been completed, the leaders advanced to the head of their men and harangued them, though the distance was too great for the Englishmen to hear what was said.

This done, one of the knights closed his visor, and the other tried to follow his example, but the calque, dented from the effects of a blow, refused to allow the visor to descend. A couple of squires sprang forward to aid their lord, and the group, standing well in front of the rest, made a tempting mark.

Redward was quick to act.

”Quickly, d.i.c.k; nine score paces, and no windage!”

d.i.c.k, a l.u.s.ty yet experienced archer, had already notched his bow and fitted an arrow. Leaning slightly forward, and throwing all his weight into the act of drawing the six-foot bow, the man loosed the shaft. Even as it sped Buckland also let fly, and the defenders anxiously awaited the result of their comrades' skill.

The first arrow struck and s.h.i.+vered itself against the uplifted visor of the French knight; but Redward's fared better, for, hitting the mail-clad figure under the raised arm, it sank deeply into the leader's body. Amid a roar of execrations on the invaders' side, and a hearty English cheer on the part of the bowmen, the knight staggered and fell on his face. The two squires stood their ground bravely, and with difficulty raised the ponderous armour-clad body of their master and bore it to the rear.

”Here they come!” shouted the master-bowman. ”See, they shoot! On your faces, men!”

Crouching down behind the friendly shelter of the stone walls, the eight defenders awaited the onslaught, Redward alone watching the advance through a loophole, his head protected by an iron cap, while he held a stout buckler over the aperture as an additional protection against the deadly hail of arrows and bolts.

Raymond, crouching close to his father, felt that the bitterness of death had pa.s.sed; his terror had vanished, and he was as ready as the rest to strike a blow in self-defence, though against tremendous odds. The unfamiliar sound of the arrows striking the woodwork and quivering with an indescribable _ping_, or shattering themselves against the stonework, the invaders' war cry of ”St. Denis,” and the metallic clanging of the advancing men-at-arms were signs of an invisible enemy whom he was on the point of meeting in mortal combat, and when, after a seemingly long and weary wait, the hail of arrows slackened and he heard his father cry, ”To arms!” he actually welcomed what might prove to be his death-summons.

At the word of command the defenders sprang to their feet, rushed to the loopholes, and fired as fast as they were able into the dense ma.s.ses of the advancing enemy. At that short range neither leathern coat nor iron hauberk was proof against the deadly arrows, and man after man fell writhing on the ground, their fall serving to dismay their comrades and to cheer their antagonists.

Clambering over the low fencing, the men-at-arms still advanced; the air was thick with the groans of the wounded and the shouts of ”St.

Denis!” ”Tuez les miserables!” ”A bas les poltrons!” To which the defenders answered not a word, but in grim silence discharged their arrows into the disorderly press before them.

By sheer weight of numbers the French men-at-arms gained the front of the house, and with reckless bravery attempted to tear away the improvised defences. Bows were cast aside, and the defenders, seizing swords and spears, made vicious thrusts through the loopholes as the shadows of the enemy were thrown across them.

At length the planks across one of the windows gave way, and a crowd of mail-clad warriors essayed to clamber through. Thereupon the defenders retreated to the opposite wall, and resuming their bows, volleyed their deadly shafts against the rash intruders, who, overwhelmed by the concentration of arrows in the narrow s.p.a.ce, gave back in disorder.

Suddenly a figure clad from head to foot in plate armour--a form of defensive mail only just coming into use--appeared in the window. In vain the arrows rattled on the thrice-welded plate, and for a moment it seemed certain that the intaking was accomplished. But Redward, dropping his weapon, sprang forward, and before the mail-clad warrior could swing his long and heavy sword, the archer had thrown himself bodily upon the Frenchman.

Realising the danger, the man tried to return, but Redward, seizing him in his powerful grip, strove to drag him into the house. Lying across the window ledge, his bulk filling the whole aperture, the Frenchman effectually prevented any of his comrades from coming to his a.s.sistance, his mail-clad legs, kicking and sprawling without, keeping his would-be helpers at a discreet distance.

Then came a terrific struggle, Redward heaving and hauling on his enemy's bascinet, while the other tried his utmost to shake off the relentless grip. Nothing short of the breaking of the laces of the Frenchman's calque would release the man, and even then his unprotected head would be pierced by a ready arrow.

The knight's resistance grew feebler, till at length a hollow voice exclaimed, ”Je me rends!”

”No quarter to base ravagers!” was the stern reply, and with a final mighty heave Redward dragged the steel-clad warrior through the window, and cast him with a sickening clang upon the stone floor.

Then, drawing the knight's own _misericorde_, he cut the laces of his bascinet and plunged the dagger into his Adversary's throat.

CHAPTER IV

OF THE GALLANT STAND OF THE NINE ARCHERS

DISMAYED by the fall of their second leader, the attackers retired out of bowshot, leaving the nine defenders weary and spent, yet exultant over their success.

Their respite, however, was short, for, joined by another body of men from the galleys, the invaders again advanced, this time led by another knight, a short, broad-shouldered man, cased, like his unfortunate predecessor, in plate armour, over which he wore a yellow surcoat charged with the arms of the Spinola family.

”Ah! A rascally Genoese!” exclaimed Redward as he saw the device.

”Now we must look to ourselves, for these Genoese combine the skill of the French and the roguery and treachery of the Spaniards; moreover, they have rendered a good account of themselves both by land and sea in their wars with the State of Venice.”