The Winning of the Golden Spurs Part 25

At length, they came in sight of the camp, and to his great joy Raymond saw the well-known banner of the crescent on the blue field, waving close to the pavilion over which floated the royal standard of England, for the Constable of Portchester's company was that day detailed as guard to the camp.

Great was the delight and astonishment of Sir John Hacket and his men on Raymond's reappearance, for he had been given up for lost; and greater was the Constable's surprise when his squire, pointing to the litter, exclaimed with pardonable pride: "Behold, sir, I bring thee the Count of Tancarville according to thy instructions."

Having handed over his three prisoners and given a brief account of his adventures, Raymond retired to a tent to enjoy a well-earned meal and a rest. From one of the archers he learned that his father, maddened by grief and rage at the supposed loss of his son, had obtained permission to join for the time being the Suss.e.x company of Sir Guy of Bramber, vowing that twenty Norman lives would but ill-balance Raymond's death.

The squire's leisure was of short duration, for Sir John Hacket came in person to inform him that the King had ordered him to appear before him.

Raymond's eyes sparkled with delight, for this was a step at least towards his coveted reward, and hastily attiring himself suitably for the royal presence, he followed the Constable to the King's pavilion.

It was a large tent, hung with damask, and divided into two parts by a heavy curtain. In the ante-room were crowds of knights awaiting an audience, their names and t.i.tles being carefully set down by a herald, while another, stationed at the flap of the part.i.tioning curtain, where two knights in full armour stood on guard, announced the various personages who had business with their Sovereign.

Each knight who was ushered into the inner apartment had but a short stay in the royal presence, and to Raymond, as he waited in breathless expectation, it seemed as if there was a continuous procession of warriors, some elated with the prospect of praise and honour, others nervously ignorant of why they were summoned thither; while others, knowing that their master had cause for displeasure, were pacing the crowded ante-chamber, biting their lips in their anxiety.

All the while a buzz of suppressed voices was heard from the inner room, and occasionally Edward's hearty voice could be clearly distinguished as he praised or chid according to the merits or demerits of the person before him.

Suddenly the sound of a galloping horse was heard, coming rapidly nearer, then, amid a hum of ill-concealed excitement, a knight, covered in mud from head to foot, and breathless from hard riding, burst into the ante-chamber.

"Ah, Sir William!" he exclaimed to the royal herald, "I pray thee announce me to the King with all despatch. The matter brooks not delay!" And clanking in his heavy armour at the heels of the herald he disappeared behind the curtain that concealed the royal presence from the crowd of waiting knights.

"'Tis Lord Ba.s.sett," whispered Sir John to his squire. "Certes, some event of much moment hath occurred to bring him from the field.

Hearken!"

The newcomer's voice was distinctly audible to those who waited without. "The men of Caen are holding out stubbornly, Sire, every house being closed to our troops, and our losses from the darts of those within are exceeding great. The Welsh levies, aye, and our own men as well, are killing without mercy man, woman, and child, yet their acts do but increase the fury of the men of Caen. I pray you, Sire, that the word goes forth that every soldier shall withdraw from the city, for otherwise they threaten to destroy it with fire."

"But wherefore should we hold our hand?" inquired the King. "They of Caen set themselves in battle against our hosts, and must of necessity abide the consequences."

"But the spoil, Sire, the spoil! 'Tis the richest town in all Normandy. If we can but prevail on the citizens to lay down their arms, then the sack can be resumed with more profit and less risk."

"There's wisdom in thy words," replied Edward, "but thy advice is every whit the same as the Cardinal Legates gave to us but an hour agone. These we told that it was our resolve to brook no interference of the Holy Father in matters appertaining to war, but, by my halidome, the suggestion commends itself to us. Therefore withdraw our troops. Beat a parley with the townsmen, and demand their surrender with promise of quarter. Stay! I'll to the front myself!

Herald! Dismiss the knights in waiting, and inform them that we will receive them on the morrow."

Thus Raymond's opportunity had pa.s.sed for the present, for when the morrow came, the King in person met the chief magistrate of Caen, and in the presence of the Papal Envoys, agreed to accept the unconditional surrender of the town, pledging his kingly word, however, that the ma.s.sacre should cease, and before the evening came the squire was detailed for another errand.

"Raymond," quoth Sir John Hacket, "I have it in mind that a slight advancement and no little honour can be obtained if we can seize the stronghold of the Count of Tancarville, and gain possession of the store of powder and the bombards of which thou hast spoken. What think ye? All the powder was not taken away by the Count?"

"I think not, sir."

"And the bombards?"

"I saw none go; nevertheless they may have sent them away."

"Then I'll go to Chandos and crave permission to lead the company against this strange hunting-lodge in the Forest of Brique. Meanwhile have thy two prisoners closely questioned, for, methinks, they know exactly where this stronghold lieth."

The Constable hastened to the tent of Sir John Chandos to obtain the required boon, while Raymond sent for the two Normans whose lives he had spared. They were, so the squire ascertained, brothers, and one had been in the service of the Count of Eu, and knew the precise position of the Count of Tancarville's forest castle.

Soon Sir John returned, having succeeded in his mission. One of the prisoners was made to act as guide, and to avoid another blunder he was told that should the enterprise fail through his neglect or treachery his brother's life would be forfeit. Rations were served out to the company, and an hour later Sir John's command, consisting of three squires, thirty men-at-arms, and fifty mounted archers, moved out of camp amid the encouraging shouts of their comrades, and disappeared in the gathering gloom towards the dark ma.s.ses of the Forest of Brique.

CHAPTER XVII

THE FALL OF THE COUNT'S STRONGHOLD

UNDER the guidance of the Norman, the company proceeded by a different route to that by which Raymond made his escape; and, as night fell, they dismounted and off-saddled in a clearing within half a league of the Count's stronghold.

Sentries were posted, and every precaution taken against surprise, but nothing untoward occurred to disturb the camp.

Day dawned, but a thick, fleecy mist prevailed, the moisture dripping from the steel caps of the soldiers, who, in spite of it being a summer's morn in fair Normandy, actually shivered with cold. No fires were allowed to be lighted for fear of giving warning of their approach, and after a hasty breakfast the company started on the last portion of the journey.

The way lay through a narrow avenue, similar to that in which Raymond's ill-fated men-at-arms met with disaster, and the Norman guide, anxious for his own and his brother's safety, used all his skill and cunning as a woodman to ensure a successful surprise.

Presently through the mist two gnarled trunks attracted his attention, and, halting, he beckoned to the Constable to dismount. In low tones he explained that lie wanted a riderless horse to be driven in front of the company, and, the Constable a.s.senting, one of the archers dismounted and urged his steed to the head of the column.

To Raymond, who knew the perils of the path, the act occasioned no surprise, but most of the soldiers watched the action with wonderment.

The horse had proceeded but a short distance when it stumbled over some invisible obstacle, and before it could recover itself, a heavy beam, furnished with a metal barb, came crashing down from the mist--hidden branches above, pinning the devoted animal to the earth.

A score of willing hands dragged the timber and its victim from the path. "I pray you send another horse on ahead," exclaimed the Constable calmly, as if unmoved by his narrow escape, for had he been in his customary place at the head of the company his fate would have been sealed.

Silently, and fully antic.i.p.ating a fresh trap, the troop advanced, the successor to the ill-fated horse walking cautiously as if instinctively aware of its perilous mission. A bow-shot farther it stopped, and, in spite of the application of the point of a dagger, it refused to move another step.

"Prenez garde, messieurs, c'est un piege," whispered the Norman.

"Mais sans doute c'est le dernier empechement."

"Step forward, Lavant," exclaimed the Constable in a low tone to one of the men-at-arms. "Thrust out thy spear and see what lieth here."

The man did so, and almost without resistance the weapon sank in turf. A twist of the spear and a large piece of what looked to be green sward gave way, disclosing a yawning cavity, its length being too great to permit a horse to leap across, while its depth was sufficient to kill or maim any man or beast that had the misfortune to fall therein.

At a sign from their leader the soldiers dismounted. One man was told off to every four horses, a party set silently to work to cut a way through the dense thicket, so as to make a detour round the pitfall, and the rest of the soldiers stood where they were, resting on their arms till the path was cleared.

This done, the company, now diminished in fighting numbers by one-fourth, resumed their march, and, as the guide had foretold, were unmolested by any other obstacle till they emerged from the forest at the edge of the extensive clearing in which stood the stronghold of the Count of Tancarville.

The sun was now above the tree-tops, and slowly the mist was dispersing, so that the outlines of the fortress were just visible in the clouds of lifting vapour.

Ordering his men to lie down within the shelter of the undergrowth, Sir John called his squires, the master bowman who had taken the place of the absent Redward, and the oldest man-at-arms, and held a hasty consultation upon the plan of attack.

Though Raymond had not seen the castle from without, he found that his idea of the place did not differ greatly from the appearance of the actual building. It was a long, low structure, but one story in height, save at one corner, where a low tower commanded the rest of the stronghold. The walls were pierced with narrow loopholes for the discharge of arrows, and crowned by a battlemented breastwork. Around the walls was, as Raymond already knew, a ditch or moat. The drawbridge was raised, and the outer fortalice or barbican was furnished with a ma.s.sive door.

There were no signs of the garrison, which, at the most, numbered less than two score men, but the possibility of a surprise was guarded against by the fact that the doorway of the barbican was closed.

For several hours the little English force lay in front of the stronghold, the soldiers p.r.o.ne on the gra.s.s, their leaders standing behind a dense thicket, so that no a.s.sailant was visible to the still unsuspecting inmates of the castle.

At length some of the archers who had remained with the horses joined the main body, dragging with them two peasants who were captured while on their way to the Count's fortress. The two men bore huge baskets full of bread on their backs, and the booty was distributed and eagerly devoured by the soldiers, while the peasants, securely bound, were detained a short distance in the forest under a guard of three archers.

Presently one of the men-at-arms approached Raymond. "I beg of thee, sir, to ask the Constable that he give me leave to force an entry into yonder fortress."