The Winning of the Golden Spurs Part 20

"We must be doubly cautious, Raymond," said his father, "for methinks another troop of hors.e.m.e.n is approaching."

Once again they withdrew from the road, and, hiding beneath the shadow of some tall trees, they waited. Nearer and nearer came the sound, till, like a whirlwind, a large body of knights and mounted men-at-arms dashed by in the darkness, and, with a thunder of hoofs and a cloud of dust that rose slowly in the still night air, they vanished into the gloom.

"By St. George! What doth it mean?" exclaimed Raymond.

"Nay, I cannot say, save it be they of Blois fleeing from those of Montfort; every man was riding for dear life, and, mark you, with loose rein and hot spur!"

"Then onwards, father! An hour will decide whether we reach Hennebon unscathed, or have to fight our way in."

Almost before they were aware of the fact they rode right into the camp of the besiegers, but, instead of being instantly challenged and taken prisoners, it was like a progress through a city of the dead.

Most of the tents were cut down, several of the temporary wooden huts still smouldered, while here and there their horses had to step aside to avoid treading on the corpse of an unarmoured man.

Still wondering at this unlooked-for sight, the Englishmen spurred on till they drew rein outside the twin towers that guarded the gate of Hennebon. A hoa.r.s.e voice challenged them, and torches flickered on the battlements as the garrison stood to their arms.

"Open! We would see the Countess!" roared Redward, standing in his stirrups.

"Who are ye, and whence come ye?" was the reply.

"Messengers from the King of England."

Cries of delight greeted this announcement, the drawbridge fell with a ponderous clang, the great gates were thrown wide open, and, conscious that a great duty had been well carried out, Raymond, followed by his father, entered the town of Hennebon.

CHAPTER XIII

THE RELIEF OF HENNEBON

"THY name and style, fair sir?"

"My name is Raymond Buckland, squire to Sir John Hacket, Constable of the King's Castle of Portchester and Governor of the town of Portsmouth. Lead me, I pray, to her grace the Countess of Montfort, for I have a letter which I have to give her by my own hand."

"Nay," was the reply, "that cannot be--at least not at this moment.

The Countess led a sortie yesterday at noon, and, alas, hath not yet returned. I, Henri Barbenoire, seigneur of the castle of Ploeac and Seneschal, in the absence of the Countess of this town will receive thy message."

"That cannot be," replied Raymond courteously, "for to the Countess alone must I hand this letter."

Barbenoire, a Breton whole-heartedly devoted to his mistress, did not press the point, but ordering a hasty meal to be prepared, remained with the young squire. It was but a sorry repast, for already the supplies were low, nevertheless Raymond did justice to the simple fare, listening awhile to the narrative of the events of the siege.

Cheered by the touching confidence that the heroic Countess had given to the townsmen of Hennebon, the garrison had fought bravely and well. The Countess herself wore armour, and rode on a huge warhorse through the narrow streets, encouraging her people to make good defence, reminding them of the help she hoped would be forthcoming from the King of England. Nor did she spare the womenfolk, for she caused them to discard their long trains and heavy skirts and to don short kirtles so that they could move with freedom. This done, they were employed in carrying stones and arrows to the walls to replenish the missiles of the defenders, and so emboldened were they by the example of their mistress that the women did not hesitate to hurl the stones down upon the invaders.

At length one day the Frenchmen ma.s.sed outside the northern wall for a grand a.s.sault, and, ascending a lofty tower, the Countess perceived that their camp was empty. Instantly calling together a body of knights and mounted men-at-arms the lady mounted her steed and, placing herself at their head, rode straight for the French camp, cutting down tents and setting fire to everything that would readily burn.

The watchers on the walls saw the French host desist from the a.s.sault and retire to intercept the Countess. Finding herself cut off from the town, she called in her followers, and rode furiously away to Aural, hotly pursued by Sir Louis d'Espagne, the second in command of Charles of Blois.

Thus it was that Raymond had seen the Countess and her troops pa.s.s by him without knowledge of their ident.i.ty; and now the garrison was ignorant of the fate of their beloved leader, none knowing whether she had been killed or taken, or whether she had baffled pursuit.

On the morning following the arrival of Raymond and his father, the host of Blois still encompa.s.sed the town, yet no attempt was made to renew the a.s.sault.

The two Englishmen were enrolled as members of the garrison, and as the days went past they with their foreign comrades gazed eagerly from the battlements in the hope of seeing the banners of the returning Countess.

On the fifth day, Barbenoire had ascended the lofty east tower.

Despair for his mistress had filled his soul, yet, inspiring the townsfolk by word and deed, he gave no sign of misgiving, being resolved to hold Hennebon as long as a single fighting-man was left.

The rising sun dazzled his vision, but a movement on the skyline riveted his attention. Calling one of his captains, he pointed out the spot, and both agreed that it was a body of troops approaching.

A very short time sufficed to spread the news, though Barbenoire commanded that no demonstration should be made lest it should attract the notice of the besiegers.

Soon it was beyond doubt that the Countess was returning. Collecting a body of one hundred archers and spearmen, the Seneschal ordered them to make a feint sortie from the western side while the gateway on the opposite side was thrown open to receive the Countess. Then, when safely within the walls with all her company and an additional force of five hundred spears, the redoubtable Chatelaine was greeted with a great noise of trumpets to the cheers of the delighted townsfolk.

The besiegers, finding themselves tricked, could not refrain from praising the boldness and skill of the Countess of Montfort.

Nevertheless, they advanced to the a.s.sault, and the struggle waxed fierce until noon, when, unable to gain a lodgment, the partisans of Blois sullenly retreated to their camp.

Directly the attack was repulsed, Raymond hastened to the presence of the Countess. She had now divested herself of her bascinet and steel jupon, and the young squire saw before him a tall, stately lady of about thirty years of age. Her finely chiselled face was crowned by a wealth of auburn hair, which, ruffled by the removal of her headpiece, served to hide the somewhat lofty brow.

Raymond could but marvel that such a truly feminine form possessed the courage and endurance of a man, and his astonishment was increased when she addressed him in low, sweet tones, for he had heard of the Countess's soul-stirring speech, when, holding her little son by the hand, she had so successfully appealed to the chivalrous instincts of her knights and to the loyalty of the townsfolk.

Concealing her agitation at the arrival of such important news from England, the Countess broke the seals and opened the letter. Her face flushed with pleasure as she read its contents.

"Hearken, my fair lords, to the message of our n.o.ble overlord the King of England," she cried, turning to those who were with her.

"Four score ships by now are on their way to aid us, and ere long three thousand men, under Sir Robert of Artois and Sir Walter Manny, will be on the heels of our enemies."

Shouts of exultation greeted this announcement, and, the news quickly spreading, the whole town was given over to rejoicing.

But meanwhile active preparations were being made by Charles of Blois to make another general a.s.sault, and the arrival of some formidable siege-engines enabled him to breach the walls in several places; while the garrison, kept in a state of constant alarm, were worn with toil and endless vigil.

Every morning at sunrise, for nearly two months, the Countess would ascend the loftiest tower in Hennebon and gaze towards the distant Cape of Ushant in the hope of catching sight of the sails of the English fleet. But her expectations remained unrealised, for seaward the horizon was unbroken, while around the town lay the close lines of her relentless foes.

At length one of her partisans, the Bishop of Leon, informed her that his nephew, Henri de Rohan, who was in the camp of Blois, desired to hold converse with her; and, being granted safe conduct, the knight entered the town for the purpose of inducing the besieged to surrender, promising an honourable capitulation, with permission for the garrison to withdraw.

For a while it seemed as if De Rohan's words would gain the day, till the Countess, supported by Barbenoire, again harangued her knights, and the ecclesiastic withdrew discomfited.

Thereupon the French advanced to the grand a.s.sault, while the besieged caught up their arms and silently yet resolutely awaited their approach.

But ere the archers could begin their hail of arrows which was to open the attack, the ringing voice of the Countess was heard from the summit of the tower:--

"Voila, le secours! Viola le secours anglais! Courage, enfans; nous sommes sauves!"

"Will they be in time?" asked Raymond anxiously, as he stood by his father on the shattered wall.

"If we can but make good the battlements for one hour all will be well. Canst see aught of the ships?"

"Not as yet."

"Then heaven forfend the Countess be not mistaken. Stand to it, Raymond, for here they come!"