Part 26 (1/2)

”How so, Peter? Wouldst essay the task alone?”

”Nay, Master Raymond, but with my comrade, Myles of Fareham, 'tis easy to attempt.”

”And easier to fail? What wouldst thou do?”

”If we don the peasant's clothes and carry their baskets filled with stones on our backs, I trow 'twill be an easy business to fool those that are within. Once they open the gate two honest Englishmen can hold it against a score of Frenchmen till the main body hath time to come to our aid.”

”By St. George! Thou sayest aright; I'll speak to Sir John at once.”

The Constable received the project with delight, and preparations for the a.s.sault were instantly made. The two men-at-arms drew the gabardines of the peasants over their armour, so that they closely resembled the thick-set, shambling Normans, and shouldering their heavy baskets, they advanced boldly towards the outwork.

Meanwhile their comrades were eager and alert. The bowmen had chosen their arrows and strung their bows; the men-at-arms had drawn their swords and had discarded their belts and sheaths to enable them to run the quicker to the aid of the two devoted men, and with eyes intently fixed on the gate of the barbican they awaited the signal to rush headlong across the open s.p.a.ce that lay between them and the fortress.

To the waiting soldiers it seemed hours ere their two comrades drew near to the outer work, but when within a few paces of it a sentinel stood forth on the wall and challenged them. Then, apparently suspicious of their errand, he blew a loud blast on a horn, which was immediately answered by the appearance of five or six men from within the barbican, while over a score lined the walls of the main stronghold, some of whom began to wind their cross-bows.

At the same time the door was thrown open, and a man, apparently a captain, stood on the threshold. Up to now these preparations were simply a matter of form, no matter who the newcomer might be, and fortunately the iron-nerved Englishmen understood this, for, staggering under their loads, they still advanced with bent heads to avoid recognition.

Suddenly the guardian of the gate realised that it was not a pair of ignorant peasants that he had to parley with. But the knowledge came too late. Peter of Purbrook had thrown down his load and dashed, sword in hand, at the astonished Norman. Before the latter could retreat a step he had fallen with his head cleft to the chin. His body lay athwart the threshold, and ere the others could rush to close the gate the Englishmen had pushed their baskets, filled with stones, against the door, and were awaiting the onslaught of their foes.

With hoa.r.s.e shouts of encouragement the English men-at-arms rose from their ambush and rushed madly to their comrades' aid, while the archers, shooting rapidly and coolly, directed a dropping fire of arrows at the defenders on the walls. But they of the outwork had gathered to defend the gate, and already a fierce struggle was taking place, the two gallant Englishmen being hard pressed by the enraged Normans.

With axe, spear, and mace the defenders strove to thrust back the daring intruders, while the latter, regardless of their own safety, essayed to keep open the gate. Two of the Normans fell, their bodies adding to the ghastly pile at the entrance to the barbican, but directly afterwards Myles of Fareham was slain by a savage spear-thrust.

Undismayed by the fall of his comrade, Peter of Purbrook hurled an axe at the helm of the slayer of his friend, then, clearing at a bound the heap of corpses, bade fair to drive back the defenders single-handed, while his comrades, with Raymond well in the fore, were already halfway across the intervening s.p.a.ce.

Carried away by the heat of battle, Raymond saw as in a dream the figure of the devoted man-at-arms clearing a path for his countrymen; the next instant there was a blinding flash, a deafening roar, and a thick, choking cloud of sulphurous smoke.

One of the defenders, with the fury of despair, had fired off a bombard, the huge stone ball cras.h.i.+ng through friend and foe alike, and bounding over the springy turf till it came to a stop a few paces from the edge of the forest.

Appalled by the sound, the soldiers hesitated, but when the smoke had partially cleared away the gateway was deserted.

Then the Constable's voice was heard amid the din, ”Onwards, men, the place is ours,” and regaining their wits, the Englishmen rushed forward and reached the deserted barbican.

The discharge from the bombard, by which the remaining Frenchmen, save one, and four English men-at-arms, including the ill-fated Peter, had been swept away, was attended by one good result. The drawbridge had been lowered, and, after applying the linstock, the cannonier had darted back across it to take refuge in the fortress, while the heavy bombard, wrenching asunder the leather thongs that bound it to the carriage, had recoiled till its weight rested on the end of the drawbridge, effectually preventing it from being raised by the defenders.

In the meanwhile the English archers, while engaged in keeping down the fire of the cross-bowmen, had marked the fugitive cannonier as he sped back to gain the entrance. Ere he had run but half the distance he fell, transfixed by a dozen arrows, while the attacking party roared with excitement and jubilation.

Even if the defenders had had another bombard available they would have been prevented by the hail of shafts from training it on their adversaries; and, led by the Constable and his squires, the men-at-arms crossed the drawbridge and thundered at the main gate with their axes, while the archers, advancing in close order, kept up a hot fire against every point where a Norman dared show the crest of his steel cap.

Under the furious blows the door was splintered; then with a united effort the shattered woodwork gave way, and the victorious Englishmen rushed headlong into the castle, only to find that not a man of the garrison was to be seen.

With his own hands the Constable tore down the scarlet wolves' heads of the banner of the Count of Tancarville, and the blue guidon with the demi-lune floated in its place, amidst a fanfare of trumpets and the cheers of the victors.

Then a systematic search of the stronghold was undertaken, but no trace of the Normans was found till an archer stumbled over a heavy trap-door, which, on being raised, disclosed a flight of dankstone steps leading to a subterranean pa.s.sage. Listening intently, the Constable and his squires heard the faint sounds of retreating footsteps echoing along the stone walls of the tunnel.

”It matters not,” quoth Sir John. ”I doubt whether there be any person of quality amongst them. Their burrow doubtless leads to some spot in the forest, and I can ill-afford to risk more lives in a needless undertaking.”

To close the entrance, pieces of heavy timber weighted with stone were thrown down the yawning pit, and having made all chance of a return by this outlet impossible, the soldiers devoted their energies to the exploration of the building.