CHAPTER XXX. HOW THE BRUSHWOOD MEN CAME TO THE CHATEAU OF VILLEFRANCHE.
It was late ere Alleyne Edricson, having carried Sir Nigel the gobletof spiced wine which it was his custom to drink after the curling of hishair, was able at last to seek his chamber. It was a stone-flagged roomupon the second floor, with a bed in a recess for him, and two smallerpallets on the other side, on which Aylward and Hordle John were alreadysnoring. Alleyne had knelt down to his evening orisons, when there camea tap at his door, and Ford entered with a small lamp in his hand. Hisface was deadly pale, and his hand shook until the shadows flickered upand down the wall.
"What is it, Ford?" cried Alleyne, springing to his feet.
"I can scarce tell you," said he, sitting down on the side of the couch,and resting his chin upon his hand. "I know not what to say or what tothink."
"Has aught befallen you, then?"
"Yes, or I have been slave to my own fancy. I tell you, lad, that I amall undone, like a fretted bow-string. Hark hither, Alleyne! itcannot be that you have forgotten little Tita, the daughter of the oldglass-stainer at Bordeaux?"
"I remember her well."
"She and I, Alleyne, broke the lucky groat together ere we parted, andshe wears my ring upon her finger. 'Caro mio,' quoth she when last weparted, 'I shall be near thee in the wars, and thy danger will be mydanger.' Alleyne, as God is my help, as I came up the stairs this nightI saw her stand before me, her face in tears, her hands out as though inwarning--I saw it, Alleyne, even as I see those two archers upon theircouches. Our very finger-tips seemed to meet, ere she thinned away likea mist in the sunshine."
"I would not give overmuch thought to it," answered Alleyne. "Our mindswill play us strange pranks, and bethink you that these words of theLady Tiphaine Du Guesclin have wrought upon us and shaken us."
Ford shook his head. "I saw little Tita as clearly as though I were backat the Rue des Apotres at Bordeaux," said he. "But the hour is late, andI must go."
"Where do you sleep, then?"
"In the chamber above you. May the saints be with us all!" He rosefrom the couch and left the chamber, while Alleyne could hear his feetsounding upon the winding stair. The young squire walked across to thewindow and gazed out at the moonlit landscape, his mind absorbed bythe thought of the Lady Tiphaine, and of the strange words that shehad spoken as to what was going forward at Castle Twynham. Leaning hiselbows upon the stonework, he was deeply plunged in reverie, when in amoment his thoughts were brought back to Villefranche and to the scenebefore him.
The window at which he stood was in the second floor of that portion ofthe castle which was nearest to the keep. In front lay the broad moat,with the moon lying upon its surface, now clear and round, now drawnlengthwise as the breeze stirred the waters. Beyond, the plain slopeddown to a thick wood, while further to the left a second wood shutout the view. Between the two an open glade stretched, silvered in themoonshine, with the river curving across the lower end of it.
As he gazed, he saw of a sudden a man steal forth from the wood into theopen clearing. He walked with his head sunk, his shoulders curved, andhis knees bent, as one who strives hard to remain unseen. Ten paces fromthe fringe of trees he glanced around, and waving his hand he croucheddown, and was lost to sight among a belt of furze-bushes. After himthere came a second man, and after him a third, a fourth, and a fifthstealing across the narrow open space and darting into the shelter ofthe brushwood. Nine-and-seventy Alleyne counted of these dark figuresflitting across the line of the moonlight. Many bore huge burdens upontheir backs, though what it was that they carried he could not tell atthe distance. Out of the one wood and into the other they passed, allwith the same crouching, furtive gait, until the black bristle of treeshad swallowed up the last of them.
For a moment Alleyne stood in the window, still staring down at thesilent forest, uncertain as to what he should think of these midnightwalkers. Then he bethought him that there was one beside him who wasfitter to judge on such a matter. His fingers had scarce rested uponAylward's shoulder ere the bowman was on his feet, with his handoutstretched to his sword.
"Qui va?" he cried. "Hola! mon petit. By my hilt! I thought there hadbeen a camisade. What then, mon gar.?"
"Come hither by the window, Aylward," said Alleyne. "I have seenfour-score men pass from yonder shaw across the glade, and nigh everyman of them had a great burden on his back. What think you of it?"
"I think nothing of it, mon camarade! There are as many masterless folkin this country as there are rabbits on Cowdray Down, and there are manywho show their faces by night but would dance in a hempen collar ifthey stirred forth in the day. On all the French marches are drovesof outcasts, reivers, spoilers, and draw-latches, of whom I judge thatthese are some, though I marvel that they should dare to come so nighto the castle of the seneschal. All seems very quiet now," he added,peering out of the window.
"They are in the further wood," said Alleyne.
"And there they may bide. Back to rest, mon petit; for, by my hilt! eachday now will bring its own work. Yet it would be well to shoot the boltin yonder door when one is in strange quarters. So!" He threw himselfdown upon his pallet and in an instant was fast asleep.
It might have been about three o'clock in the morning when Alleyne wasaroused from a troubled sleep by a low cry or exclamation. He listened,but, as he heard no more, he set it down as the challenge of the guardupon the walls, and dropped off to sleep once more. A few minutes laterhe was disturbed by a gentle creaking of his own door, as though someone were pushing cautiously against it, and immediately afterwards heheard the soft thud of cautious footsteps upon the stair which ledto the room above, followed by a confused noise and a muffled groan.Alleyne sat up on his couch with all his nerves in a tingle, uncertainwhether these sounds might come from a simple cause--some sick archerand visiting leech perhaps--or whether they might have a more sinistermeaning. But what danger could threaten them here in this strong castle,under the care of famous warriors, with high walls and a broad moataround them? Who was there that could injure them? He had well-nighpersuaded himself that his fears were a foolish fancy, when his eyesfell upon that which sent the blood cold to his heart and left himgasping, with hands clutching at the counterpane.
Right in front of him was the broad window of the chamber, with the moonshining brightly through it. For an instant something had obscured thelight, and now a head was bobbing up and down outside, the face lookingin at him, and swinging slowly from one side of the window to the other.Even in that dim light there could be no mistaking those features.Drawn, distorted and blood-stained, they were still those of the youngfellow-squire who had sat so recently upon his own couch. With a cry ofhorror Alleyne sprang from his bed and rushed to the casement, while thetwo archers, aroused by the sound, seized their weapons and stared aboutthem in bewilderment. One glance was enough to show Edricson that hisfears were but too true. Foully murdered, with a score of wounds uponhim and a rope round his neck, his poor friend had been cast fromthe upper window and swung slowly in the night wind, his body raspingagainst the wall and his disfigured face upon a level with the casement.
"My God!" cried Alleyne, shaking in every limb. "What has come upon us?What devil's deed is this?"
"Here is flint and steel," said John stolidly. "The lamp, Aylward! Thismoonshine softens a man's heart. Now we may use the eyes which God hathgiven us."
"By my hilt!" cried Aylward, as the yellow flame flickered up, "it isindeed young master Ford, and I think that this seneschal is a blackvillain, who dare not face us in the day but would murther us in oursleep. By the twang of string! if I do not soak a goose's feather withhis heart's blood, it will be no fault of Samkin Aylward of the WhiteCompany."
"But, Aylward, think of the men whom I saw yesternight," said Alleyne."It may not be the seneschal. It may be that others have come into thecastle. I must to Sir Nigel ere it be too late. Let me go, Aylward, formy place is by his side."
"One moment, mon gar. Put that steel head-piece o
n the end of myyew-stave. So! I will put it first through the door; for it is ill tocome out when you can neither see nor guard yourself. Now, camarades,out swords and stand ready! Hola, by my hilt! it is time that we werestirring!"
As he spoke, a sudden shouting broke forth in the castle, with thescream of a woman and the rush of many feet. Then came the sharp clinkof clashing steel, and a roar like that of an angry lion--"Notre Dame DuGuesclin! St. Ives! St. Ives!" The bow-man pulled back the bolt of thedoor, and thrust out the headpiece at the end of the bow. A clash, theclatter of the steel-cap upon the ground, and, ere the man who struckcould heave up for another blow, the archer had passed his sword throughhis body. "On, camarades, on!" he cried; and, breaking fiercely past twomen who threw themselves in his way, he sped down the broad corridor inthe direction of the shouting.
A sharp turning, and then a second one, brought them to the head of ashort stair, from which they looked straight down upon the scene of theuproar. A square oak-floored hall lay beneath them, from which openedthe doors of the principal guest-chambers. This hall was as light asday, for torches burned in numerous sconces upon the walls, throwingstrange shadows from the tusked or antlered heads which ornamented them.At the very foot of the stair, close to the open door of their chamber,lay the seneschal and his wife: she with her head shorn from hershoulders, he thrust through with a sharpened stake, which stillprotruded from either side of his body. Three servants of the castle laydead beside them, all torn and draggled, as though a pack of wolves hadbeen upon them. In front of the central guest-chamber stood Du Guesclinand Sir Nigel, half-clad and unarmored, with the mad joy of battlegleaming in their eyes. Their heads were thrown back, their lipscompressed, their blood-stained swords poised over their rightshoulders, and their left feet thrown out. Three dead men lay huddledtogether in front of them: while a fourth, with the blood squirtingfrom a severed vessel, lay back with updrawn knees, breathing inwheezy gasps. Further back--all panting together, like the wind in atree--there stood a group of fierce, wild creatures, bare-armed andbare-legged, gaunt, unshaven, with deep-set murderous eyes and wildbeast faces. With their flashing teeth, their bristling hair, their madleapings and screamings, they seemed to Alleyne more like fiends fromthe pit than men of flesh and blood. Even as he looked, they brokeinto a hoarse yell and dashed once more upon the two knights, hurlingthemselves madly upon their sword-points; clutching, scrambling, biting,tearing, careless of wounds if they could but drag the two soldiers toearth. Sir Nigel was thrown down by the sheer weight of them, and SirBertrand with his thunderous war-cry was swinging round his heavy swordto clear a space for him to rise, when the whistle of two long Englisharrows, and the rush of the squire and the two English archers down thestairs, turned the tide of the combat. The assailants gave back, theknights rushed forward, and in a very few moments the hall was cleared,and Hordle John had hurled the last of the wild men down the steep stepswhich led from the end of it.
"Do not follow them," cried Du Guesclin. "We are lost if we scatter. Formyself I care not a denier, though it is a poor thing to meet one's endat the hands of such scum; but I have my dear lady here, who must by nomeans be risked. We have breathing-space now, and I would ask you, SirNigel, what it is that you would counsel?"
"By St. Paul!" answered Sir Nigel, "I can by no means understand whathath befallen us, save that I have been woken up by your battle-cry,and, rushing forth, found myself in the midst of this small bickering.Harrow and alas for the lady and the seneschal! What dogs are they whohave done this bloody deed?"
"They are the Jacks, the men of the brushwood. They have the castle,though I know not how it hath come to pass. Look from this window intothe bailey."
"By heaven!" cried Sir Nigel, "it is as bright as day with the torches.The gates stand open, and there are three thousand of them within thewalls. See how they rush and scream and wave! What is it that theythrust out through the postern door? My God! it is a man-at-arms, andthey pluck him limb from limb like hounds on a wolf. Now another, andyet another. They hold the whole castle, for I see their faces at thewindows. See, there are some with great bundles on their backs."
"It is dried wood from the forest. They pile them against the walls andset them in a blaze. Who is this who tries to check them? By St. Ives!it is the good priest who spake for them in the hall. He kneels, heprays, he implores! What! villains, would ye raise hands against thosewho have befriended you? Ah, the butcher has struck him! He is down!They stamp him under their feet! They tear off his gown and wave it inthe air! See now, how the flames lick up the walls! Are there none leftto rally round us? With a hundred men we might hold our own."
"Oh, for my Company!" cried Sir Nigel. "But where is Ford, Alleyne?"
"He is foully murdered, my fair lord."
"The saints receive him! May he rest in peace! But here come some atlast who may give us counsel, for amid these passages it is ill to stirwithout a guide."
As he spoke, a French squire and the Bohemian knight came rushing downthe steps, the latter bleeding from a slash across his forehead.
"All is lost!" he cried. "The castle is taken and on fire, the seneschalis slain, and there is nought left for us."
"On the contrary," quoth Sir Nigel, "there is much left to us, for thereis a very honorable contention before us, and a fair lady for whom togive our lives. There are many ways in which a man might die, but nonebetter than this."
"You can tell us, Godfrey," said Du Guesclin to the French squire: "howcame these men into the castle, and what succors can we count upon? BySt. Ives! if we come not quickly to some counsel we shall be burned likeyoung rooks in a nest."
The squire, a dark, slender stripling, spoke firmly and quickly, as onewho was trained to swift action. "There is a passage under the earthinto the castle," said he, "and through it some of the Jacks made theirway, casting open the gates for the others. They have had help fromwithin the walls, and the men-at-arms were heavy with wine: they musthave been slain in their beds, for these devils crept from room to roomwith soft step and ready knife. Sir Amory the Hospitaller was struckdown with an axe as he rushed before us from his sleeping-chamber. Saveonly ourselves, I do not think that there are any left alive."
"What, then, would you counsel?"
"That we make for the keep. It is unused, save in time of war, and thekey hangs from my poor lord and master's belt."
"There are two keys there."
"It is the larger. Once there, we might hold the narrow stair; and atleast, as the walls are of a greater thickness, it would be longer erethey could burn them. Could we but carry the lady across the bailey, allmight be well with us."
"Nay; the lady hath seen something of the work of war," said Tiphainecoming forth, as white, as grave, and as unmoved as ever. "I would notbe a hamper to you, my dear spouse and gallant friend. Rest assured ofthis, that if all else fail I have always a safeguard here"--drawing asmall silver-hilted poniard from her bosom--"which sets me beyond thefear of these vile and blood-stained wretches."
"Tiphaine," cried Du Guesclin, "I have always loved you; and now, by OurLady of Rennes! I love you more than ever. Did I not know that your handwill be as ready as your words I would myself turn my last blow uponyou, ere you should fall into their hands. Lead on, Godfrey! A newgolden pyx will shine in the minster of Dinan if we come safely throughwith it."
The attention of the insurgents had been drawn away from murder toplunder, and all over the castle might be heard their cries and whoopsof delight as they dragged forth the rich tapestries, the silverflagons, and the carved furniture. Down in the courtyard half-cladwretches, their bare limbs all mottled with blood-stains, struttedabout with plumed helmets upon their heads, or with the Lady Rochefort'ssilken gowns girt round their loins and trailing on the ground behindthem. Casks of choice wine had been rolled out from the cellars, andstarving peasants squatted, goblet in hand, draining off vintages whichDe Rochefort had set aside for noble and royal guests. Others, withslabs of bacon and joints of dried meat upon the ends of their
pikes,held them up to the blaze or tore at them ravenously with their teeth.Yet all order had not been lost amongst them, for some hundreds of thebetter armed stood together in a silent group, leaning upon their rudeweapons and looking up at the fire, which had spread so rapidly as toinvolve one whole side of the castle. Already Alleyne could hear thecrackling and roaring of the flames, while the air was heavy with heatand full of the pungent whiff of burning wood.