Part 24 (1/2)

At the end of the pa.s.sage was another heavily-barred door, at which a spearman stood on guard. Holding his dagger firmly in his right hand and concealing it within the folds of his long sleeve, Raymond moved straight up to the man. The sentinel opened the door, and with bowed head stood aside to let the supposed monk pa.s.s. In a well-feigned highly-pitched voice the young squire gave the customary blessing; then, almost amazed at his good fortune, he gained the free air once more.

But his difficulties were not yet over. The road from the stronghold ran under the shelter of the low walls for some distance, then turned abruptly and crossed the moat by a drawbridge, at the end of which was a small postern and barbican.

All went well till Raymond was upon the bridge, and the gate-keeper was making ready to throw open the outer gate, when the sham monk dropped one sandal upon the bridge, where it lay conspicuously in the dazzling suns.h.i.+ne.

For a moment the guard paused, gazing in undisguised astonishment at the tell-tale object, then with a crash he closed the gate and raised a horn to his lips. But ere he could blow a blast Raymond was upon him; a glint of cold steel, and the man uttering a choking cry, threw up his arms and fell in a huddled heap.

Disguise was no longer necessary, and the squire, opening the gate and casting off his gown as he ran, sped over the open s.p.a.ce towards the sheltering forest.

He heard some one behind him shouting the alarm, but by the time the watchers on the wall could wind their cross-bows Raymond was almost out of range, though a dropping bolt, shot at a venture, hummed close to his head and buried itself in the springy turf at the foot of the nearest tree.

Though skilled in finding a course by observing the position of the sun, Raymond was but indifferently versed in woodcraft, and in the gloom of the forest all idea of direction was beyond him. Onward he plunged, cras.h.i.+ng through the bracken and undergrowth, till to his great delight he struck a narrow path. This he followed, till at length he came upon the scene of his ambuscade. A yawning pit, partially concealed by a screen of hurdles and bracken, lay across the narrow way, while a score of paces beyond was a tree trunk, which, having been skilfully cut through close to its base, needed but little effort to fall into its present position, effectually barring the road to any but unmounted men.

With a sickening feeling of horror Raymond gazed into the pit, where lay the mangled remains of two of his men-at-arms, though it was evident that the plunderer had already been there, as the corpses were stripped of their arms and accoutrements, while the trappings of the horses had vanished.

Under the fallen trunk lay the body of the third soldier, plundered also as far as the ponderous timber would allow, while of the fourth no trace remained but a dark stain on the clayey soil.

Clambering over the last obstacle, the squire found himself on the steep path that had been so dangerous a road but a short fortnight before. On and on he hastened, till he emerged on the high road that led to the camp, which he estimated to be about four and a half leagues distant, provided a general advance had not taken place in the meantime.

He was hatless and without his surcoat, having left that garment with his late jailer, and there were no distinguis.h.i.+ng marks to show that he belonged either to the army of the King of England or of Philip of France.

Tying his blood-stained scarf over his chin, he strode boldly forward, trusting in the role of a wounded soldier to avoid being questioned. At length he gained the summit of a hill, from which he looked down upon a lovely fertile valley, and in the distance the blue waters of the English Channel.

A spur of rising ground hid the view on his right, but a few minutes sufficed to gain its crest, and on looking down he saw a sight that filled him with joy, for below lay a large unwalled town, which he rightly guessed to be Caen, while a league off was the English host in battle array, and between him and the army was a motley array of Frenchmen issuing from the town to join battle with the invaders.

CHAPTER XVI

THE TABLES TURNED

ONLY one thing could Raymond do. He sat down on the gra.s.sy hillock and watched, knowing well that the fight could but end in one way.

A little group of Norman knights led the van of the French, whose forces were composed mostly of towns-men, desperate in their vain attempt to save their town from pillage. Eagerly the keen eyes of the squire followed their disorderly advance, till they were almost lost to view in the distance.

To him it seemed as if the white-coated lines of English archers stirred neither hand nor foot, but he knew full well that the blast of deadly arrows had sped, for as if by magic the dark ma.s.ses of the Frenchmen broke and fled, without coming to hand-grips. Already the English cavalry were in hot pursuit, and the white winding road leading to the town was outlined with clouds of dust, which almost concealed the disorderly remnants of the defeated fugitives.

Directly the advance guard of the fleeing army began to draw near, Raymond rose from the gra.s.s and ran swiftly towards the road. The Frenchmen, each intent upon his own safety, rushed past him, throwing off their armour to aid their flight, the mounted fugitives ruthlessly riding down their less fortunate countrymen.

Seated by the roadside was a man-at-arms, who, sorely wounded in the shoulder, was endeavouring to divest himself of his hauberk in order to ease the pain. Actuated both by his own requirements and a feeling of pity, Raymond helped him to unburden himself of the steel-ringed coat, and having donned the Frenchman's discarded armour, he bathed his wound, a deep lance-thrust, with water obtained from a rivulet that ran by the roadside.

After rendering this service he proceeded to complete his own equipment. A heavy sword and a light s.h.i.+eld were soon found, and it did not require much effort on the part of the active squire to seize a riderless horse.

With difficulty curbing the restlessness of his newly-acquired steed, Raymond urged it into an adjoining field to avoid being swept away by the panic-stricken horde of fugitives, and eagerly awaited the arrival of the English host.

Soon the tide of fleeing Frenchmen slackened, and the braver spirits, maintaining a running fight, alone remained to uphold the honour of the ill-a.s.sorted army of the citizens of Caen.

Suddenly Raymond's attention was drawn to a knot of mailed figures, who, surrounded by a press of Englishmen, fought savagely with the courage of despair. One by one the French mounted men-at-arms and squires fell, till only two knights remained.

The pair, keeping side by side, held their enemies at bay by a shower of blows from sword and mace, till one, his horse slain by a Welshman, who paid for his act by having his head cleft by a back-handed sweep, was dashed to the ground and made prisoner.