BESIEGED
We had no time for thought.
“Back!” cried the archer. And we dropped behind the open door as quickly
as we could.
Another arrow sped past and fastened itself in the far wall. Then a
second came and a third.
“That makes four all together,” said the first archer. “There are four
men outside against the four of us here. If we can hold out for an hour,
help will be on the way.”
“We must barricade the door,” said the second. “As it is, they have
every advantage.”
He pointed to the table.
We lifted it up and stood it on its end. Then, with care lest we expose
ourselves to another shot, we moved it slowly until it stood before the
entrance. It was hardly wide enough for there was a space of half a foot
on either side.
The first archer who seemed to be the leader touched the second on the
arm.
“Do you hold the door, Raoul,” he said, “while I look closer at our
defenses.”
With that he stepped back and began to examine the room. He sent a sharp
glance at the windows and tossed his head when he saw the smallness of
them. When he came to the door that led into the kitchen, a worried
expression crossed his brow.
“Can you fight?” he demanded turning to me.
“I can try,” said I.
“Do you and your friend take your stand here,” he commanded. “If an
attack comes, be on your guard and repel it.”
He left us and went back to the door. Charles picked up the chair with
the broken legs while I, with my dagger in my hand, stood ready.
A sharp click echoed through the room. It was an arrow crashing against
the table. Then three more followed in quick succession. By that I knew
that our enemies were still in the front of us and for the moment we had
nothing to fear from our end of the inn.
Then came a lull. The leader of the archers passed his hat across the
opening between the table and the jamb of the door. Before he had time
to breathe an arrow sung in the air. It passed into the room and caught
with a snap in the plaster not far from my legs.
“They know how to shoot,” exclaimed the archer.
He walked back where the light was dim and raised his bow. He peered out
for a moment, taking careful aim. The twang hummed in my ears and the
arrow sped through the opening at the door.
A cry as of a man hurt came back to us, loud and penetrating.
“That’s one of them!” I shouted in glee.
The archer gave me a look.
“Don’t be deceived, lad,” he said with a frown. “I missed. My arrow is
sticking there in a tree. It was only a trick of theirs.”
I was sure the leader was mistaken for in the next instant there came
only three clicks against the surface of the table. But I held my own
counsel and looked on while the archers, one at each opening, raised
their bows and watched for a mark among the men in the woods across the
road.
They shot at the same time. The arrows had scarcely left the bows when
another yell louder than the first came over to us.
The leader lowered his bow in disgust.
“He got back too quickly,” he said. “Our only hope is to wait.”
There was another lull. For a long time we stood with our hearts
thumping hard against our ribs. I listened for footsteps outside the
kitchen door, but the whole place, even the road and the tree opposite
were as silent as an empty church.
Then came a single arrow. It was not shot in a line but in a slow
arching curve. It passed through the opening and landed sticking in the
wood in the floor. Around the haft was tied a piece of white cloth.
I jumped towards it and raised it in my hand.
“A signal!” I cried.
The leader flashed his eyes on me.
“It’s a trick,” he answered. “Back! And watch your door!”
But it soon proved that I was right. Within a few minutes another piece
of white cloth larger than the first fluttered among the trees.
Regardless of the leader’s warning I walked to the middle of the floor.
The old landlord came into view tottering and filled with fear. His jaw
was twisting like a leaf spinning in the wind. He put one foot forward
and then half turned as though he would draw back. When he got half
across the road, he broke into a shifting run.
“A truce!” he cried holding the white cloth before him.
“What would you have?” asked the leader from behind the table.
“You’ve killed two of them already,” said the landlord. “They want to
let you know that there’ll be a score of their comrades here within the
hour.” He hesitated. The old crafty smile broke over his face. “If you
give in, they’ll do you no hurt but send you back to Normandy where you
belong.”
“Is that all?” demanded the leader.
“I’ve come to save my house,” was the next move.
“Well?”
“You see,” went on the old man, “if you don’t give in, they’ll burn it
down about your ears.”
“Oh, ho!” replied the leader with a short laugh. “So that’s the tune
now, is it? Well. Let them.” Here he held out his bow before the old
man’s eyes. “Do you see this?” he demanded. “This bow has drawn the
heart’s blood of half a hundred of their countrymen. It’s still athirst
for more. Go back and ask them if they are willing to be the next.”
The landlord stood twisting the white rag between his skinny hands. He
looked up sharply and saw me peering eagerly over the leader’s shoulder.
“That lad has eaten of my food,” he said with the old wheezing whistle
in his voice. “I have treated him like a father. And he has brought all
this trouble on me,—I’ll remember this when the time comes to settle our
accounts.”
With a frown as black as pitch he turned and went wobbling and shaking
across the road.
He had about disappeared among the trees when the leader called out,
“Ready now for the brush!”
The words had scarcely left his lips when two arrows sped through the
openings on either side of the table. On the heels of them a crash
resounded against the kitchen-door. I ran back to where Charles had been
pacing up and down the floor. The panels shook as though they were of
straw. Another crash, and the door fell from its hinges with all the
wood scattered into a thousand pieces.
Then there burst in on us two men. Charles swung the broken chair with
all his force against the head of the first. I slipped in under his arm
and thrust my dagger into the second’s ribs. I might just as well have
tried to cut down a log of oak for the point stopped against something
hard and by that there went through me the realization that he had on
under his jerkin a coat of mail.
I jumped back to safety before he could lay hold of me. The fellow whom
Charles had hit with the chair was down on one knee. The chair came up
again and descended with great force. If it had struck, the man would
have breathed his last. But with an effort he curled his body into a
knot and covered his head in his arms. The chair glanced off his elbow
and crashed against the floor. The back, which Charles had used as a
hold, broke in two and the seat went flying and spinning across the
room.
The fellow got to his feet. He was in pain but for all that was filled
with wicked wrath. He reached out one hand and caught Charles by the
coat. His dagger was over his head ready to descend when the leader of
the archers turned and sent an arrow through his neck. He reeled and
spun like a top. Then like a weight sank to the floor.
You will remember that all this happened almost in the twinkling of an
eye. The man who was my opponent saw the danger that he faced. He had
made for me to be sure with his knife ready to drive it into my body. I
had taken two or three steps back towards the middle of the room. But
when his companion fell, he gave one swift glance at the archer and
turned his back. As fast as he could make it, he darted to the kitchen
door. I heard his footsteps, as he ran along the wooden floor. He
disappeared beyond, out among the trees to hide himself from death.
I breathed a sigh. The arrow of the archer had been our deliverer. I
turned to the front of the inn and saw the men guarding the entrance
stringing their bows and shooting time after time into the woods. The
table was split in a dozen places showing the light in the cracks. By
this I judged that while we had been busy with our foes, the enemy
without had rained missile after missile at us with the intention of
drawing us away while the two invaded the room.
Then came another lull. No doubt by this time the fellow who had escaped
had gotten once more among his friends. That there was a council of war
going on among them was as sure as fate. We waited a long time. There
came no more arrows to crash with a click against the table nor to fly
into the room.
A sound far off came to our ears. It was the clatter of horses’ hoofs on
the hard road. For a time we listened. Then they died off as though the
riders had stopped or had entered the woods. Hope rose in our breasts
that it was friends who were coming to our aid. But in a short time it
died, for we were to learn that it was the enemy now with a dozen men to
where they had one before.
The clatter of hoofs started again irregularly as though the horses were
cavorting in a circle. Then they came swiftly down the road. At each
second they grew more and more distinct. At length they came into view—a
whole troop of them. The chief wore a coat of shining mail and had a
plume in his hat. His gauntlets flashed in the sun.
Without any ado they reined in their horses before the inn. The men
dismounted as one, like drilled soldiers. They formed behind their
captain and walked towards us. With his fist he knocked heavily against
the surface of the upright table.
“Who are you?” demanded the archer.
“Servants of his Majesty, the King!” came the abrupt reply.
“—and what do you want?”
“You have a lad there who is a spy,” was the answer. “He is to be
delivered into our hands.”
The archer waited a moment before he made reply.
“And if we refuse?” he said.
“We are not here to parley with you,” declared the captain. “If you do
not deliver him forthwith, you are taking your life in your hands.”
The archer was as cool as the captain.
“I cannot give him up,” he said. “You will have to take him at your
risk.”
There was no more said. The captain stepped aside as though he would
leave. He uttered a word to his men. They rushed forward. Before we
could put ourselves on guard, or before one of the archers could string
his bow, the table was sent flying across the room. They came in. They
covered us three or four to each one of us. To have shown resistance
would have been the height of folly.
In less time than it takes to tell we were bound hand and foot and
huddled along the wall at the far end of the room. When all was finished
the captain stood before us twirling his mustache.
“You almost got through,” he said to me. “Well, my lad. In another day
you’ll be at the end of your wanderings for a long, long time. For when
you’ll get out of the fortress of my lord De Marsac, you’ll be an old
man.”
With that he bade his men take us and tie us to the horses.