Part 23 (1/2)

TRAPPED!

BEFORE the raiders had proceeded very far a short exclamation from one of the men-at-arms caused them to pull up sharply.

”What's amiss?” demanded Raymond in a whisper.

”The peasant's horse hath gone lame,” replied one of the soldiers.

”Can we not despatch the guide, for, certes, he is of no further use, and it will save us the trouble of looking after him?”

”Nay!” replied Raymond st.u.r.dily. ”I am loth to cause a harmless peasant to be slain. Make him mount behind thee, Robert, but keep a tight hold on his chain.”

Once again the advance was resumed, the horses floundering over the slippery, leaf-strewn path, their riders being put to great trouble by reason of the overhanging branches that often almost swept them from their saddles.

Presently they began to descend a steep declivity, the slope requiring all the skill of the hors.e.m.e.n to keep their steeds on their feet, while the rain, now falling in torrents, had transformed the little path into a foaming stream.

Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning rent the darkness of the night, and in the dazzling glare Raymond beheld, with a thrill of horror, two of the men who were leading disappear into a yawning chasm almost at his feet, their cries drowned by the appalling crash of the accompanying thunder. By dint of reining in his horse till the animal was almost on its haunches, the young squire saved himself from a similar fate, and slipping to the ground he awaited, in terrible suspense, the next flash that would give some idea of his position.

The succeeding period of darkness seemed to weigh upon him like a suffocating shroud, while the silence was broken only by the frantic prancing of the remaining horses, the feeble groans of one of the fallen men, and a low gurgling sound a short distance away--a sound that caused indescribable terror in the mind of the young squire.

Then came another crash and a ponderous ma.s.s fell across the path he had just pa.s.sed, and another shriek of agony rent the air. To the horrified Raymond, whose superst.i.tious feelings were aroused by the war of the elements and the tragedy of his surroundings, the place savoured of the infernal regions; and gazing with wide-open eyes into the inky blackness, he dumbly awaited the next gleam of blinding light.

At length, after a seemingly endless suspense, it came--a double flash. Short as was the duration of the glare it served to intensify the horror of his position.

At his feet yawned the pit, wherein the feebly-moving limbs of two of his men still writhed in the throes of death, while their horses were frantically kicking each other in the confined s.p.a.ce. Behind him lay another man-at-arms, the blood welling from a gaping wound in his throat, while a fourth lay crushed--beyond recognition by a heavy tree-trunk that, falling across the path, effectually prevented a retreat. There was no sign of their guide, but the fifth soldier was leaning against a tree-trunk, his hands pressed tightly over his eyes as if trying to shut out the ghastly scene.

The next flash showed that he, too, had vanished, and Raymond was alone, though the shouts and cries of the unfortunate man-at-arms betokened that he was being haled off through the forest by some invisible agency--whether by men, animals, or spirits the squire dared not imagine.

And now the underwood on either side seemed alive with movement, and Raymond felt, or fancied he felt, rough hands groping towards him.

Frenzy took possession of his shaking body, and, lashed into the energy of despair, he unsheathed his sword and slashed madly about him. The blade came in violent contact with an overhanging bough and snapped off close to the hilt; at the same moment the squire felt a pair of sinewy arms encircle his feet, and with a l.u.s.ty heave he was upset and thrown with a crash to the ground, the point of a knife pressing against his throat warning him of the utter uselessness of further resistance.

Bound hand and foot, the unfortunate squire was carried or dragged through a thick growth of underwood, till at length his captors gained a large clearing. By the aid of a momentary flash he saw the outlines of a low building. In response to a violent knocking he heard the sound of bolts being withdrawn, and, borne on the shoulders of four strong men, he was carried into the house, and dropped unceremoniously upon the rush-strewn floor.

Some one took a torch from its socket and bent over the prostrate squire. Raymond recognised the features--it was the traitorous guide!

But gone was the heavy l.u.s.treless expression of his eyes and the stolid set of his swarthy jaws; instead a look of malevolent intelligence overspread his face, and by the subservience with which he was treated by his comrades it was evident that he was a man of authority.

”Ah! Dolt, fool, beast of an Englishman! How nicely hast thou borne the Count of Tancarville back to the camp of the cursed invader of Normandy! Dead or alive, eh? Little didst thou know how near thy purpose was fulfilled when thy base _routier_ made to pa.s.s a knife across my throat. I--even I--am the Count of Tancarville!”

He paused to observe the effect of this startling announcement, but Raymond preserved a dignified silence.

”And that simpleton the Constable, thy master,” he resumed. ”To think that the Count of Tancarville would be dallying at a hunting lodge when base English defile the coasts of Normandy! Ah! That was a near one,” he added as another blinding flash of lightning lit up the room.

”Knowest thou, thou miserable fool,” he continued as soon as the crash of the thunder permitted, ”that did that fiery fork but touch this place thou and I would be scattered, so that all the armies of Philip and Edward would fail to find a fragment? Eh, I interest thee?

'Tis well; I'll tell thee more, seeing that the knowledge will profit thee but little. Henri! Cut asunder the bonds that bind this Englishman's legs, and do thou and Etienne stand close lest he do himself an injury!”

Handing the torch to a serving-man, the Count led the way, closely followed by Raymond and his two guards. In an adjoining apartment, so open to the winds that the torch was almost extinguished, lay seven sinister-looking objects, which the squire readily recognised as bombards.

These early cannon were composed of straight lengths of flat iron, held together by shrunk-on iron hoops, and lashed down to a heavy baulk of timber, so that in training these clumsy contrivances, carriage and gun were practically one piece.

”These are the beasts I hunt in this forest,” quoth the Count. ”King Philip hath need of them, and, by our Lady of Nimes, 'twill be a sight to see the vaunted English bowmen being bowled over by these bombards. And food these beasts must have! Forward, garcons, and show this dolt mine animals' food. But, Bertrand, stand aside with that torch. I am in no mind to go heavenwards yet awhile.”

The next room was little better than a cell, lightened by the feeble light of an oil lamp that glimmered through a horn lanthorn. In a far corner could be discerned the bent figure of a monk, his cowl thrown back on his shoulders and his arms bared to the elbow. Ignoring the interruption, he continued his labours, working a pestle with untiring energy.