THE SECOND ARCHER ANNOUNCES HIMSELF.
The first problem which the Archbishops set themselves to solve was the
estimating of the exact number of men required to surround the castle
effectually, and keep watch night and day, with proper reliefs. The
cordon was drawn closer round the castle. The axe-men hewed an avenue
through the forest in straight lines, so that no point should be out of
sight of two or more men who constantly paraded these woodland lanes.
The village itself was completely cut off from Thuron, and the living
line extended between the castle and the brook Thaurand, so as to make
the getting of water impossible, the besiegers not knowing the castle
itself possessed an inexhaustible well, and that all within were thus
free from the dreadful danger of thirst. A group of tents was placed at
the river end of the stoned-in passage that descended from the castle to
the Moselle. The besieging line of men ran up the deep valley of the
Thaurand, and so across the steep hill through the forest, and down
again into the valley of the river, where the links of the living chain
joined the line that extended south from the village. The guards were a
few yards apart, and the orders concerning their watch were as strict as
skilled officers could make them, for the Archbishop of Treves had
commanded that a net with meshes so minute that not the smallest fish
could penetrate, should be drawn round the doomed castle, and each
officer knew that neglect would be punished with ruthless severity. The
tents instead of being grouped together were placed along the outside of
this line, so that no guardsman need have far to travel to his rest, nor
any excuse to loiter in coming to his watch. A circle of fires
surrounded the castle at night, serving the double purpose of giving
light for seeing and heat for cooking.
Those in the castle witnessed the tightening of the line around them,
and at first thought a new attack was meditated, but as time went on and
no attack was delivered, the true state of affairs began to dawn upon
them. The Emperor was amazed to find so little military skill or pluck
in the opposition camp, but he welcomed the change from activity to
quiescence. He supposed the Archbishops must know how well provisioned
the castle was, for it had been filled in the eye of all the country,
and he had heard Heinrich's order to the peasantry to save themselves by
giving any information they chose to the invaders; he was also cognizant
of the fact that the Black Count had ruled his district with a hand by
no means of the gentlest, so it never occurred to him that the besiegers
had got little news from the people.
The archer, perhaps, would have rested more contented had he been
permitted to try his skill at long distance bowmanship on the environing
soldiery, but the Emperor thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie, and
bestowed positive instructions upon John Surrey to wing no shaft unless
he saw a determined advance on the part of the enemy. The archer was
most anxious to show how much superior his light instrument was to the
cumbrous catapult, which admittedly could not carry so far as the ring
around the castle, and he pleaded with Rodolph to be allowed to
dispatch, say, half a dozen shafts a day, by way of preventing the
coming of weariness upon the opposing camp. Nothing, he held, was so
demoralising to an army as a feeling of absolute security; and if there
was to be no sallying out against the Archbishops, those within the
castle owed it to the foe, if only from the dictates of common humanity,
to allow a few arrows to descend from tower to tent each day. Rodolph,
however, was proof against all arguments the archer could bring to bear
upon him, and John frequently sighed, and even murmured to himself a
wish that he had taken service with the irascible Heinrich rather than
with so peaceably minded a man as Rodolph.
He consoled himself by sitting in the sun on the top of the southern
tower, with his back against the parapet, busily employed in the making
of arrows, the huge pile beside him bearing witness to his tireless
industry, while many more were stored in his room below, and to the safe
custody of this apartment he took down his day's manufacture each
evening, where they might become seasoned, free from the dampness of the
outside night air. In his occupation he was obsequiously waited upon by
his German dependent, who in despite of the archer's rough treatment of
him, looked up to his master with slavish admiration. Usually Conrad,
now rapidly recovering from his wounds, lay at full length on the warm
roof, saying little but thinking much of the absent Hilda.
The archer disdained all armour with the exception of a steel cap, which
he wore to ward off battle-axe strokes, should he come into close
quarters with the wielders of that formidable weapon, and this helmet he
kept brightly polished till it shone like silver. It was somewhat hot to
wear in mid-summer, but the head was defended from the warmth of the
sun's rays by a lining of cloth which also made the cap more
comfortable, because more soft, in the wearing. The archer sat thus with
his pile of arrows by his side and the material for their making in
front of him, while his slave crouched near, ready to anticipate his
wants by promptly handing to him knife or scraping flint, or length of
wood, or feather, as the case might require. Surrey's steel cap
projected above the parapet and glistened like a mirror in the sun. He
was droning to himself a Saxon song, and was as well contented with the
world as a warrior may be who is not allowed, at the moment, to scatter
wounds and death among his fellow creatures.
Suddenly he was startled by a blow on his steel helmet, which for an
instant caused him to think some one had struck him sharply, forgetting
that his position made such an act impossible, but this thought had
barely time to flash through his mind when he saw an arrow quivering
against the flag pole in front of him. He looked at it for a moment with
dropped jaw like a man dazed, then as Conrad and the other made motion
to rise he cried gruffly:
"Lie down!" as though he spoke to a pair of dogs. The two, however,
promptly obeyed.
"There seems to be an expert archer in the camp as well as in the
castle," said Conrad. John Surrey sat without moving and without
replying, gazing on the arrow which had come to rest in the flag pole.
At last he said to his dependent:
"Gottlieb, rise cautiously and peer over the battlements, taking care to
show as little of your head as possible, and tell me if you see any one
in the camp who looks as if he had sped a shaft."
"I see a tall man," began Gottlieb.
"Yes!" cried the archer.
"Who stands with his hand shading his eyes, looking up at this tower."
"Yes, yes."
"In the fist by his side I think he holds a bow like yours; but the
distance is too great for me to make sure what it is."
"He has no cross-bow at least."
"No, it is not a cross-bow."
"I thought so. No cross-bow could have sent shaft like that. I doubt
also if archer living, save Roger Kent, could have----"
"He seems to be placing another arrow on the string."
"Then down, down with you. If he has caught sight of your head you are
doomed."
An instant later another arrow struck the helmet, glanced over the
tower, and disappeared in the forest beyond.
"Now come and sit beside me, Gottlieb," said Surrey, as he lifted the
helmet gently and moved away his head from beneath it, not shifting the
cap except slightly upwards from its position. "Get under this, and sit
steadily so that the target may not be displaced."
Having thus crowned his dependent, Surrey crawled to his bow and
selected a well-finished arrow.
"You are surely not going to use your weapon," said Conrad. "The Lord
Rodolph has forbidden it."
"He has forbidden it unless I am attacked, and there is the arrow in the
pole to prove attack. Besides, I shoot not to kill."
With much care Surrey, exposing himself as little as might be, drew bow
and let fly. The tall archer was seen to spring aside, then pause
regardless of his danger, stoop and pick up something which lay at his
feet, examining the object minutely. Surrey also, unthinking of danger,
stood up and watched the other, who, when his examination had been
concluded to his satisfaction, dropped the arrow, which was undoubtedly
what he had picked up, although the distance was too great for the
archer to be sure of that, and, doffing his cap, waved it wildly in the
air. Surrey himself gave utterance to a shout that might have aroused
even the Archbishops on the height, and danced round like one gone mad,
throwing his arms about as if he were an animated windmill.
"It is Roger! It is Roger!" he cried.
The Emperor, hearing the tumult, came hurriedly up the stairs, expecting
that an assault was in preparation, and, although relieved to find that
no onslaught was intended, seemed to think the archer's ecstacy more
vociferous than the occasion demanded. John pointed excitedly at his
far-off friend, and said he wished permission to visit him at once, to
learn what had befallen him since last they met.
"That is impossible," replied Rodolph. "You would be taken prisoner, and
I have no wish to lose so good an archer merely because the opposition
camp has, according to your account, a better one."
This obvious comment on his proposal dampened the enthusiasm of the
archer, who stood in deep thought regarding wistfully the distant form
of his friend. At last he said:
"Would it not be possible then for Roger to visit me here in the
castle?"
"I do not see how that may be accomplished. He cannot come here as our
friend, and he must not come as a spy. If he refused to give information
to his officers when they discovered he had been within the castle, they
would imprison him. If he asked their consent before coming, permission
would be given only because they expected to learn something from him on
his return. We could not receive him even as a deserter, for if
starvation be their game, we have enough mouths to feed as it is. And I
do not suppose he would desert, if he has taken service with the
Archbishop."
"Alas, no," said Surrey, sadly; "he would no more think of deserting
than would I myself, having once taken fee for the campaign. It is a
blessing that he is a modest man and not given to vaunting his own
skill, in the which he differs somewhat from myself perhaps, and thus
his commander is little likely to learn his usefulness providing Roger
is left to the making of papyrus and poetry, for he alone might subdue
this strong castle. If he were set to it there would be no possibility
of keeping watch or guard, for he could easily kill any man who showed
head above parapet. Not finding me in the ranks of the Archbishop's men,
he must have surmised I was here, for fate has always enlisted us on
opposite sides, and he perhaps recognised the gleam of my helmet in the
sun, and only sent his arrow the more surely to discover my presence,
for there are guards on the battlements below whom he might readily have
slaughtered had there been deadly motive in his aiming."
"He is about to shoot again," cried Conrad, in alarm.
All looked towards the archer, and it was evident he was preparing
another shaft. Surrey waved at him and shouted a warning, but the
distance was too great for his voice to carry effectually. Roger Kent on
this occasion held the bow above his head and let fly at the arch of
heaven. No one on the tower could mark the flight of the arrow, but they
saw the sender of it stand and gaze upward after it.
"It is a message of some sort," said Surrey. "Conrad and Gottlieb, get
you down to the room below, as you are unarmoured. It will not hurt my
Lord, who is in a suit of mail, and I wear my steel cap."
The two obeyed the command with notable alacrity.
"But it may strike you on the shoulder," protested Rodolph.
"I shall watch for it," replied Surrey, "and will be elsewhere when it
falls. Do not look upward, I beg of you, my Lord, for thus was our Saxon
King, Harold, slain by a like shaft from one of Roger's ancestors. Stand
where you are, looking downward, or, better, retire below."
Rodolph laughed.
"I am surely as nimble as you are," he said, "and may thus escape like
you the falling shaft."
As the Emperor spoke the arrow came in sight and swiftly descended,
speeding down alongside the flag pole so close as almost to touch it on
its way. The arrow shattered itself by impact on the stone, and thus
loosened a scroll that had been wrapped tightly round it, fastened at
each end. Surrey pounced upon this and found the message to be in
several sections, one being a letter, while on the others were verse,
regarding which the writer, in his communication, begged perusal and
criticism. The missive thus launched into the air had evidently been
prepared for some time in readiness to be sent when opportunity offered.
Surrey gave utterance to several impatient exclamations as he, with
considerable difficulty, conned the meaning of the script, and at last
he said:
"Roger tells me nothing about how he came to be in the Archbishop's
army, nor does he give tidings of anything that should be of interest to
a reasonable being. It is all upon his poetry and the lessons to be
learned from a perusal of the same, which I think had been better put in
the poetry itself, for if it convey so little to the reader that it
needs must be explained 'twere as well not written."
"That shows you to be no true poet, nor critic either," said the
Emperor. "But now that old friends are in correspondence with each
other, I shall leave them to the furtherance of it, merely reminding you
that if a message is sent similar to the one received, you will observe
like caution in not mentioning anything that relates to the castle or
its occupants."
When the Emperor left him the archer laboured hard to transcribe his
thoughts on the back of a sheet containing one of the poems. He told
Roger he was not permitted to leave the castle, but that he had orders
to go on guard upon the western battlements at midnight to take up his
watch until daybreak, and if Roger could quit the camp at that hour and
climb the hill, keeping the north tower against the sky as his guide,
the writer would endeavour to meet him half-way, when they could talk
over their mutual adventures since parting. In case there was a
companion at his watch that night, and it was thus impossible for him to
desert the castle, the up-comer was to approach the wall under the
northern tower, giving the customary cry of the water-fowl, when the
friend on the wall and the one at the foot of it might have some
whispered communication between them. He added, however, that there was
little danger of a second man being on the battlements unless a new
alarm of some kind intervened. The leaf containing these instructions he
deftly fastened to the shaft of an arrow and so sped it to the feet of
his friend, who was himself on guard.
When Roger had read what was sent he waved his hand in apparent token
that the arrangement suited him, and Surrey, so understanding the
signal, went to the room below and threw himself on his pallet of straw
to get the rest he needed before his watch began. Like all great
warriors he was instantly asleep, and knew no more until he felt
Gottlieb's hand on his shoulder announcing to him the beginning of his
vigil. Once on the ramparts, he relieved the man who had been there
during the earlier part of the night, and was pleased to note that
nothing had occurred to put an extra guard on the promenade. The camp
fires had gone out, and the valley lay in blackness. Surrey paced up and
down the battlements for a while to let the sleepy man he had relieved
get to his bed, then he looked about him for means of reaching the foot
of the wall outside. There was as yet no cry of the night bird, and he
began to fear that his friend had probably gone so soundly asleep that
daylight alone would awaken him. Surrey examined the wall with some
care. He might jump over without running great risk of injuring himself,
but he could not jump back again. At the remote end of the battlements
under the north tower, his foot struck an obstacle, and, stooping to
examine the obstruction, he found it one of the wooden missiles with a
rope attached to it which the besiegers had flung over the machicolated
parapet to enable them to climb the wall. The rope hung down outside,
and Surrey wondered that it had remained there all this time unnoticed,
certainly a grave menace to the safety of the garrison, for a whole
troop might have climbed up in the darkness with little chance of being
seen by the one sentinel on top, whose watch, now that all fear of
attack had left those in the castle, had become somewhat perfunctory.
However, this was just the thing the archer needed, and he marvelled why
he had not thought of such a plan before, for numbers of these ropes and
billets lay in the courtyard of the fortress. He slipped down the cord
and made his way cautiously through the vineyard towards the village,
pausing now and then to give the signal. About half-way down the hill,
he heard the breaking of twigs, and knew that his friend was coming up.
He crouched under the vines and waited; then as the other came opposite
him, he sprang up and gave him a vigorous slap on the shoulder.
Instantly the stranger grappled him, pinioning his arms at his side, and
the next thing the archer knew he had stumbled backwards and fallen,
with the assailant's knee on his breast and a strong grip at his throat,
shutting off the breath and making outcry impossible, even if it had
been politic.