Part 25 (2/2)
CHAPTER XVII
THE FALL OF THE COUNT'S STRONGHOLD
UNDER the guidance of the Norman, the company proceeded by a different route to that by which Raymond made his escape; and, as night fell, they dismounted and off-saddled in a clearing within half a league of the Count's stronghold.
Sentries were posted, and every precaution taken against surprise, but nothing untoward occurred to disturb the camp.
Day dawned, but a thick, fleecy mist prevailed, the moisture dripping from the steel caps of the soldiers, who, in spite of it being a summer's morn in fair Normandy, actually s.h.i.+vered with cold. No fires were allowed to be lighted for fear of giving warning of their approach, and after a hasty breakfast the company started on the last portion of the journey.
The way lay through a narrow avenue, similar to that in which Raymond's ill-fated men-at-arms met with disaster, and the Norman guide, anxious for his own and his brother's safety, used all his skill and cunning as a woodman to ensure a successful surprise.
Presently through the mist two gnarled trunks attracted his attention, and, halting, he beckoned to the Constable to dismount. In low tones he explained that lie wanted a riderless horse to be driven in front of the company, and, the Constable a.s.senting, one of the archers dismounted and urged his steed to the head of the column.
To Raymond, who knew the perils of the path, the act occasioned no surprise, but most of the soldiers watched the action with wonderment.
The horse had proceeded but a short distance when it stumbled over some invisible obstacle, and before it could recover itself, a heavy beam, furnished with a metal barb, came cras.h.i.+ng down from the mist--hidden branches above, pinning the devoted animal to the earth.
A score of willing hands dragged the timber and its victim from the path. ”I pray you send another horse on ahead,” exclaimed the Constable calmly, as if unmoved by his narrow escape, for had he been in his customary place at the head of the company his fate would have been sealed.
Silently, and fully antic.i.p.ating a fresh trap, the troop advanced, the successor to the ill-fated horse walking cautiously as if instinctively aware of its perilous mission. A bow-shot farther it stopped, and, in spite of the application of the point of a dagger, it refused to move another step.
”Prenez garde, messieurs, c'est un piege,” whispered the Norman.
”Mais sans doute c'est le dernier empechement.”
”Step forward, Lavant,” exclaimed the Constable in a low tone to one of the men-at-arms. ”Thrust out thy spear and see what lieth here.”
The man did so, and almost without resistance the weapon sank in turf. A twist of the spear and a large piece of what looked to be green sward gave way, disclosing a yawning cavity, its length being too great to permit a horse to leap across, while its depth was sufficient to kill or maim any man or beast that had the misfortune to fall therein.
At a sign from their leader the soldiers dismounted. One man was told off to every four horses, a party set silently to work to cut a way through the dense thicket, so as to make a detour round the pitfall, and the rest of the soldiers stood where they were, resting on their arms till the path was cleared.
This done, the company, now diminished in fighting numbers by one-fourth, resumed their march, and, as the guide had foretold, were unmolested by any other obstacle till they emerged from the forest at the edge of the extensive clearing in which stood the stronghold of the Count of Tancarville.
The sun was now above the tree-tops, and slowly the mist was dispersing, so that the outlines of the fortress were just visible in the clouds of lifting vapour.
Ordering his men to lie down within the shelter of the undergrowth, Sir John called his squires, the master bowman who had taken the place of the absent Redward, and the oldest man-at-arms, and held a hasty consultation upon the plan of attack.
Though Raymond had not seen the castle from without, he found that his idea of the place did not differ greatly from the appearance of the actual building. It was a long, low structure, but one story in height, save at one corner, where a low tower commanded the rest of the stronghold. The walls were pierced with narrow loopholes for the discharge of arrows, and crowned by a battlemented breastwork. Around the walls was, as Raymond already knew, a ditch or moat. The drawbridge was raised, and the outer fortalice or barbican was furnished with a ma.s.sive door.
There were no signs of the garrison, which, at the most, numbered less than two score men, but the possibility of a surprise was guarded against by the fact that the doorway of the barbican was closed.
For several hours the little English force lay in front of the stronghold, the soldiers p.r.o.ne on the gra.s.s, their leaders standing behind a dense thicket, so that no a.s.sailant was visible to the still unsuspecting inmates of the castle.
At length some of the archers who had remained with the horses joined the main body, dragging with them two peasants who were captured while on their way to the Count's fortress. The two men bore huge baskets full of bread on their backs, and the booty was distributed and eagerly devoured by the soldiers, while the peasants, securely bound, were detained a short distance in the forest under a guard of three archers.
Presently one of the men-at-arms approached Raymond. ”I beg of thee, sir, to ask the Constable that he give me leave to force an entry into yonder fortress.”
<script>