"We shall not require them; the gate is easier entrance than over the
walls--besides being the way naturally intended. This is not the first
time I have forced such a castle and won it by sundown. . . Giles, we
will try the flagons; let the ropes be made ready, and bid the archers
stand to their bows."
Sir John was regarding De Lacy with vexed surprise.
"Flagons!" he broke out. "Do you think to win the castle by pouring
wine on the waters of the moat?"
Aymer laughed. "It is a trick I learned among the Italians, though
they use hollow iron balls. There were none such at Pontefract, so I
substituted flagons; they are filled with powder, the mouth plugged
shut save for the fuse, and the whole is wrapped in a bag, also filled
with powder."
"How in the name of St. Luke do you expect to use them?"
"Come," said De Lacy, and led the way to the edge of the moat.
The squire was there uncoiling a long, stout rope with a broad iron
ball at one end. Fastening the other end to a projection in the
barbican, he whirled the weighted one around his head, then suddenly
let it fly. Like a bird it soared over the moat, and crossing back of
the right lift-chain swung far down near the water. With a wide
grappling hook he caught it above the ball, and drawing it in tied the
two ends together, forming a great loop around the chain where it was
fastened to the bridge.
Hitherto there had been no opposition from the castle; but now there
was a change.
As Dauvrey whirled another weighted rope behind the left draw-chain, an
arrow whistled from the wall and rapped him hard upon the hauberk near
the gorget, piercing the outer mail, but being stayed by the inner
shirt of Italian steel. The next instant the shafts came thick and
furious, marking De Bury and De Lacy and the squire at every joint and
seam of their harness, but without effect.
"By St. Denis, I fancy not those bolts," exclaimed De Lacy, as a
quarrel from an arbalest glanced along his helmet near the eye hole.
"It came from the left gate tower, methought."
"From the far window," said De Bury.
"Fetch me a bow," De Lacy ordered Royk.
Drawing off his right gauntlet he notched the shaft and waited.
Presently a head rose cautiously in the window and the cross-bow was
laid upon the ledge. Instantly De Lacy's fingers touched his cheek,
the string twanged sweetly, and the arrow flashed across and deep into
the brain of the arbalestier.
The cry he gave as death gripped him was answered by the splash of his
weapon as it sank into the waters of the moat.
"Bravo! my lord!" Raynor exclaimed. "You are a sight for old eyes."
"It was a lucky shot," the Knight replied, handing back the stave.
Meanwhile Dauvrey, minding the arrows rained upon him no more than so
many feathers, had caught the last rope, and so both lift-chains were
encircled by a running loop. In a trice a flagon was fastened to a
strand of each and drawn quickly over until it rested close against the
bridge. All this time the ropes were kept swinging irregularly to
prevent them being cut by arrows from the walls; though the defenders
had ignored them entirely, thinking, doubtless, they were to be used
for crossing and being quite content; for then their assailants' armor
must come off and they be easy marks.
But when the bags went over they scented danger, and the darts began to
hiss about the ropes. And the gate was flung back and the bridge
lowered a trifle, and up it two men worked their way toward the chains.
They were protected by the flooring from the fire of those at the
barbican, but Dauvrey, foreseeing just such a move, had stationed
archers on each side to meet it; and ere the two had reached the middle
of the span they were pierced by half a score of arrows and rolled back
into the gateway.
"Now!" cried De Lacy. "Up with them"--and seizing the rope nearest him
he gave it a quick twist that flung the bag upon the bridge and against
the chain; and Dauvrey did the same with the other.
At the command two archers had sprung forward with lifted bows and
barbs wrapped with burning tow and oil.
"Shoot!" Sir Aymer ordered; and straight into each bag a blazing arrow
sped.
Then came a sullen roar--a burst of silvery smoke--a rush of flying
bits of iron and splinters; and as those before the barbican leaped
back at the Knight's warning cry, the drawbridge crashed down upon the
causeway, its lift-chains torn clean away.
Instantly De Lacy dashed forward with waving axe; and beside him went
Sir John de Bury, and at his shoulder were Dauvrey and Old Raynor Royk.
And they were none too quick; for already those at the entrance were
trying to remove the planks that formed the flooring. But with a cry
of "Clare! Clare!" Aymer and the others were upon them and they fled
within the walls, swinging the gate shut just as the two Knights flung
themselves against it.
"Keep an eye upward lest they loose a turret and destroy the bridge,"
De Lacy shouted, and fell to work on the gate with his heavy axe, while
Dauvrey made haste to prevent the dropping of the portcullis by driving
a spike into the grooves in which it worked.
But the gate was made of heavy, seasoned oak, studded thick with iron
and bound deep around the edges with well-wrought steel. And though De
Lacy's blows thundered upon it until it swayed and rattled on its
massive hinges, yet it still stood staunch and firm. Presently he
paused, and Giles Dauvrey sprang forward to take his place. But he
stayed him.
"It is too strong to waste good time and strength upon," he said. "We
must use the powder again."
Twice the flagons spoke without material result; but the third tore the
gate from its fastenings, and even before the smoke had risen Sir Aymer
de Lacy and Sir John de Bury hurled it back upon its hinges and dashed
through--to be brought up short by two men in complete armor, who
attacked them furiously.
In the narrow passage, with the walls close on either side and the roof
low over head, the fighting was hampered and awkward. De Lacy and De
Bury were in each other's way and neither could swing a heavy blow; yet
they pressed forward, sword and axe drawing fire as they rasped each
other or scraped against the rough stones of the arch.
Meanwhile the men-at-arms led by Raynor Royk had poured across the
bridge and were crowding close in the rear.
"Bear aside, my lords!" the veteran shouted high above the din of the
clashing steel. "We will sweep the way clean by a rush."
But neither Knight gave heed. Gradually De Lacy was driving his foe
before him. Step by step he forced him back, until presently they were
free of the wall and into the outer bailey. Then he first noticed
that, though his opponent bore no device upon shield or hauberk nor
crest upon helm, his armor was scarcely of the sort wont to be worn by
retainers or simple men-at-arms; it was far too handsome in its lines
and fashion and much too beautifully forged. And as he parried the
sword strokes, waiting for an opening when he could end the conflict by
a crashing blow, he tried to distinguish the face behind the bars of
the visor. At first he had thought it was some retainer masquerading
in one of Lord Darby's suits of mail, but the sword play was manifestly
that of no common soldier; it was too graceful and too skillful to have
been learned amid the turmoil of the camp and battle. And suddenly the
great hope came that it was Darby himself--who had eluded the King and,
following after, had passed him at Pontefract. Instantly the cool
method of his fighting vanished; his fingers took a fresh and tighter
grip; his battle-cry "Clare! Clare!" rang out vengefully; and with all
the fury of his wrongs and pent-up hate he sprang in close. And as he
swept his axe aloft its heavy head caught the other's sword and tore it
clean away, sending it far across the bailey where it fell with a clang.
To many, here would have been the conflict's end; yet even as the hilt
quit his fingers, the unknown plucked forth his heavy dagger and sprang
straight at De Lacy.
Aymer met the attack by facing on his right heel swiftly to the left,
and as the other, unable to recover himself, struck wildly at the air,
the axe caught him full upon the shoulder, biting through gorget and
gambeson and deep into the neck beneath.
Bending over his fallen foe, De Lacy cut the lacings of the helmet and
drew it off--then started back in wonder.
Instead of the dark curls and face of Roxford's lord there were
disclosed the tonsured head and pale features of the Abbot of Kirkstall.
"Pardieu!" he exclaimed, gazing down into the face already set in
death. . . "You were my enemy, yet had I known whom this suit encased,
methinks my arm had dealt an easier blow. Nathless, you were a better
knight than churchman and, mayhap, it was a proper death for you to
die."
Just then, De Bury's antagonist went by, running as easy as though his
mail were silk and shouting:
"To the keep! To the keep!" to those upon the walls. And behind him
came Sir John, and the squires, and Raynor Royk with all the troop.
Whirling about, De Lacy sprang after. But here had he and all the
others met their match; for strain as they might, they gained not an
inch; and when the foe reached the steps they were yet fifty feet away.
The door was open for him and rushing in he flung it shut, but with
such force that it missed the catch and rebounded--and at that instant,
De Lacy thrust in his axe and he and Dauvrey threw themselves against
the door and slowly forced it back. Then of a sudden, it yielded and
they were near to falling headlong.
Shouting his battle-cry, Aymer strode into the great hall and made for
the wide stairway at the opposite end, where the remnants of the
garrison were gathered for the final stand. There were but nine and of
them only the three in front were garbed in steel; and in the centre
was he who had held the gate against Sir John de Bury.
Out-matched and out-armed there could be for them but one end to the
melée; for though they held the vantage post yet it counted little
against those who were arrayed below them, eager to begin.
Nevertheless, they stood calm and ready, leaning on their weapons, and
showed no glint of fear. And De Lacy, in admiration and loath to put
them to the sword, raised his axe for silence.
"You bear yourselves as men deserving of a better cause," he cried,
"and I fain would not have your blood spilled needlessly. Yield
yourselves prisoners, and scathless shall you leave this castle within
the hour--all save one, if he be among you, the flat-nosed retainer of
Lord Darby. Him must I carry to the King."
A gruff laugh came from the figure in the centre and he swung his visor
up.
"Aye, sirs, be not surprised. Behold him you have dubbed Flat-Nose--by
true name, Simon Gorges--the leader of your assailants, Sir John de
Bury, when yon Knight saved you--the abductor of the Countess of
Clare--the man who eluded you, Sir Aymer de Lacy, at the house in
Sheffield." And he laughed again. "And now do I thank your worship
for the proffered clemency to my fellows, and for the honor you have in
store for me. Yet am I scarce fit to stand before His Majesty; nor do
the followers of the Master of Roxford accept favor or life from the
enemy of their lord. Here await we the onslaught, fair sirs, and let
it come quickly that it may be quickly done."
"Stay!" cried De Lacy fiercely. "You have many more sins upon your
soul, doubtless, than those just vaunted, yet will you not do one
redeeming act ere you are sped? For of a verity you shall die ere the
shadows yonder lengthen by a span. Where, I ask you, shall I find the
Countess of Clare?"
Flat-Nose smiled.
"You will find her when you have topped these stairs," he answered, and
snapped his visor shut.
"I claim the villain!" De Bury exclaimed.
"Take him," said De Lacy--and whispered, to Giles Dauvrey: "Keep behind
Sir John, and if he weaken take his place until I come."
Then with the old Knight in the middle and Aymer and Raynor Royk on
either hand, they advanced to the fight.
But whereas at the gate they were on equal footing, here the assailed
had vastly the advantage; for standing on the edge of the landing,
where the stairs divided, they were high above their foes. So the
conflict began warily; and on the third step below the three halted and
made play with the three above, seeking for a chance to rush up and get
on even terms. But the others were not to be confused by tricks or
taken unaware, and were content to act only on the defensive and wait
their opportunity. And so they struggled for a while, with no result
on either side save that the strain grew heavy and the breath came
harder than at first.
Suddenly, Gorges' heavy blade found an opening, and Sir John de Bury,
with a great hole in his helmet, staggered back and sank into the arms
of the men behind him. But it brought no respite to the victor, for
Giles Dauvrey stepped into the vacant place and his sword and
Flat-Nose's rang viciously together.
With a groan De Lacy marked the old Knight's fall; then as for an
instant his opponent's eye wandered thither, he sprang up inside his
stroke, and gripping him with both hands about the ankles threw him
over his head and clean to the pavement below.
At this moment, Raynor Royk cut down his foe and joined his leader on
the landing with the men-at-arms at his back. Then, indeed, was the
fight quickly ended--save where Simon Gorges still held the squire at
bay.
And while they fought a queer thing happened in the hall below, for Sir
John de Bury got suddenly upon his feet and came toward the stairs.
"You must strike harder, Flat-Nose, to reach a skull through Spanish
bascinet," he said. "Yet of a verity, did you stun me sore and show me
stars in millions. Have at him, De Lacy, I resign the rogue to you--my
legs are over shaky to stand on yonder stair."
De Lacy motioned all to move back.
"Flat-Nose!" he called. "You shall have one more chance. Will you
yield prisoner?"
Instantly Dauvrey stepped down out of reach and grounded blade.
"To dangle in a halter from the gate tower?" scoffed Gorges, facing
about. "Not by St. Edward! Cry on your dogs."
"Has life then grown tiresome to you?"
"Marry, no! Yet it is but a change of deaths you offer; and I prefer
the one that finds me sword in hand."
"You have said the Countess of Clare is in this castle. Will you
accept life from her if she decree it; or in steel harness fight me to
the death, if she condemn you?" De Lacy asked.
Flat-Nose flung down his sword and raised his visor.
"I accept the offer, Sir Knight," he said. "I will risk the lady's
judgment. Knock upon the door in the farthest corner, and she,
herself, will open to you--there is no lock upon it, save that she has
inside."
"Will you come with me, Sir John?" De Lacy called, as Dauvrey made
haste to unlace his lord's helmet and lift it off.
De Bury shook his head. "Nay, lad, it is your right first. Later will
I join you and gladly."
Without further urging Aymer hurried down the corridor and tapped
lightly at the door, beyond which, if Flat-Nose spoke truly, he would
find his lost betrothed. No answer came, and he rapped again and
louder. But within was silence and he waited vainly for response.
Then with rising suspicion that he had been tricked by Darby's minion,
he struck the panel sharply and with force--and the door swung back
until it was open wide.
For a moment he hesitated; but when another knock brought no reply, he
ventured across the threshold and into the room a little way. Then as
his eyes chanced upon a hat with long plumes, lying on a table, and
beside it a veil and a woman's gauntlets, he was seized with sudden
fright and turned to flee.
But on the instant, from behind, two arms were flung about his neck and
a soft cheek was pressed against his own, and a voice, than which to
him the world contained none sweeter, whispered in his ear:
"Aymer, my lord!"