The Winning of the Golden Spurs Part 8

But the master-bowman, cool and collected in the hour of trial, shook his head, and, shouting--for the din was deafening--to his comrades to bear a hand, he seized an iron bar and attacked a large flag in the floor, plying the tool with skill and celerity.

The square stone was dislodged, disclosing a gaping hole in the ground, the top of a rough ladder being dimly visible against its edge.

"Down with ye!" he shouted, and once more hope sprang up in the breast of the despairing men. One by one they vanished into the chasm, till only Redward, d.i.c.k, and the unconscious Walter Bevis remained.

There was not a moment to be lost; the flames were already scorching their hair and clothing, while the thick, suffocating fumes caused them to gasp and splutter. Raising their wounded comrade, the other two men lowered him into the arms of those who had already gained safety. d.i.c.k then descended, but Redward, after giving a glance at the attackers, who still maintained a respectful distance, suddenly stooped, dragging the body of the hapless French knight across the floor, and dropped it down the hole. Then he swiftly followed, pausing for a moment to draw a large, steel-plated shield over the aperture, and joined his companions in the security of their underground chamber.

For a while they remained motionless, as if unable to realise the turn of fortune, and listening to the dull roar of the flames and the m.u.f.fled crash of the falling timbers, while the confined air grew hot as the furnace overhead grew fiercer, and the clammy atmosphere of the vault began to give off a humid vapour.

"Silence!" said Redward sternly, as some of the men began to talk excitedly. "Or, if ye do speak, speak only in whispers; for if the rascals discover us they'll smoke us out."

Through a narrow shaft at the far end of the chamber a streak of light faintly filtered, and ere long the men's eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The underground room was about ten paces by four, with a stone-vaulted ceiling. A rough wall of later date cut off one end, but it was evident that this apartment was at one time a portion of a subterranean tunnel which, it was rumoured, led from the church towards the Abbey of Netley, but for some reason was uncompleted.

Again motioning his friends to keep silent, Buckland walked over to the shaft, and, ascending by a rough wooden ladder, gained the hollow trunk of the decayed tree, where, without being seen, he could observe the movements of the invaders.

Four blackened walls and a heap of smoking timbers was all that remained of what was but a short time back his home. Satisfied by destroying the house and, as they thought, its determined inmates, the foe had now retired, and were busy preparing a meal, save a few of the common soldiers, who were either despoiling the dead of their weapons and armour or carrying the wounded back to the sh.o.r.e to embark on board the galleys.

Rea.s.suring himself that their presence was unsuspected, the archer returned to his companions and reported the state of affairs.

"By St. George, thou hast done a clever thing," said d.i.c.k admiringly.

"But for thee we would have been roast meat ere now. But why didst thou keep us without knowledge of the place so long?"

"To make thee fight the more l.u.s.tily," replied Redward bluntly.

"Hadst thou but known that an asylum awaited thee, thou wouldst have hurried here like a fox to earth, and the Frenchmen, finding the house still standing, would have discovered us and burned us out. Do I not speak aright?"

"Ay, Master Redward! And 'twas as well ye did!"

"And having, as ye admit, saved your lives, I demand a promise in return. I require ye to swear, on pain of forfeiting your eternal salvation, that not a word concerning this place shall pa.s.s your lips to any other living creature. Moreover, if I fail to come out alive, my son, Raymond, shall have undisputed possession of this place and its contents, for all I have on this earth is now stored herein."

In solemn silence each man, save the still unconscious Walter, took the required oath, kissing the hilt of a sword in confirmation of his sacred promise. Then, as if a load were lifted off his mind, Redward again ascended the shaft to resume his observations.

Slowly the long day pa.s.sed. The sun was now overhead, yet the invaders remained inactive, neither advancing into the country nor returning to their ships. Gradually the fires died out, leaving only a number of thin columns of smoke, rising into the still sultry air, to mark what had but lately been a prosperous English village.

After a while Redward again descended into the vault, his place being taken by Will Lightfoot. The opening in the hollow tree only commanded the village and the river, so another hole was laboriously cut in the trunk so as to look towards Southampton, whence Redward expected a speedy arrival of the companies then encamped outside the town.

An hour later there was a stir amongst the foreign soldiers. A trumpet sounded, and they stood to arms, forming in a line on the brow of the hill where Buckland's house formerly stood.

As there was only room for one person in the treetrunk, Lightfoot had to announce the movements to his comrades below, and, to their joy, they heard him cry out that a vast host of armed men was advancing.

The invaders were unaware of the presence of a large force in the neighbourhood, and, dismayed by the numbers of their attackers, they turned and fled in a disorderly mob to their boats. At the same time the watcher espied the lofty hulls and bellying sails of five English ships standing down Southampton Water with the intention of cutting off the three hostile galleys.

Barely had the boats made a second journey to the galleys with their load of panic-stricken men than a troop of lances, displaying the banners of Lord Willoughby and Sir Charles Ba.s.sett, came charging across the undulating ground and through the smouldering street of the village, sweeping aside all opposition and driving the remnant of the Genoese and Spaniards into the river.

It was now high tide, and in the treacherous mud scores of the miserable wretches died a horrible death, for quarter was neither asked nor given. A few of those unenc.u.mbered by armour succeeded in swimming off to the galleys, though their companions, with abject cowardice, thought only of getting to sea, letting many of the fugitives drown alongside their ships without even throwing a rope to save them.

Close at the heels of the lances came a body of mounted archers, who, on arriving at the sh.o.r.e, dismounted and poured volleys of arrows into the galleys. Notwithstanding the hail of darts that wrought havoc amongst the slaves who banked the oars, the three vessels slipped their cables and stood towards the mouth of the river, endeavouring to reach Southampton Water before the advancing English ships should bar their pa.s.sage.

The moment had arrived for Buckland and his companions to leave their underground refuge. Tying three spears together to form a stout battering ram, they applied one end to the ma.s.s of metal and charred wood that was once a shield, and which formed the door of their prison.

With a mighty thrust the obstruction was removed, and through a smouldering pile of charred timbers emerged the eight men, their faces disfigured with dried blood and blackened with soot and smoke.

Bevis they left, till, on Redward's suggestion, two of them returned and brought him up, semi-conscious and weak from the effect of his wounds.

At that moment the companies of the Constable of Portchester and the Constable of Southampton came swinging along, the sun shining on their arms and accoutrements, while at their head rode Sir John Hacket and Walter de Brakkeleye, one of the Bailiffs of Southampton.

"Certes!" exclaimed Sir John, reining in his horse and gazing open-eyed with astonishment at Redward and his band. "What have we here?"

"Sir Knight," replied Redward, raising the hilt of his sword to his battered headpiece, "here thou dost see all that is left of the six score inhabitants of Hamble!" And, overcome by the loss of blood from no less than six wounds, he reeled and fell heavily on his face before the amazed Constable.

CHAPTER V

THE MEN OF HAMPSHIRE AND THE GENOESE GALLEY

HAVING given orders to some of his followers to convey the wounded men on litters to the shelter of Netley Abbey, the Constable and his troops resumed their march to the sh.o.r.e, to aid their advance-guard in the pursuit of the galleys.

The lances and mounted archers had already galloped along the right bank of the river towards the Salterns at its mouth; while a body of men-at-arms crossed the stream by means of the abandoned boats, and followed the galleys on the other sh.o.r.e.

As if by magic, the men-at-arms were joined by vast numbers of countrymen from the neighbouring villages of Hook, Swanwick, t.i.tchfield, and Stubbington. All of them were tolerably good bowmen, and from both sides of the stream a well-directed fire of arrows was maintained on the fugitive vessels.

The wind, though favourable to the English ships that were rapidly nearing the scene of action, was too much abeam to enable the galleys to hoist their sails, and the slaves toiled at the oars to gain the open water. Thus sped, and with the favouring tide, the vessels slipped rapidly past the sh.o.r.e.

Many an anxious eye was turned towards the advancing English ships, and many an opinion was offered upon the foreigners' chances, for once they weathered the long mud spit, their sails would be hoisted and their superior speed would soon bear them out of sight.

Holding their own, yet scarcely able to reply to the stinging hail of arrows, the three galleys bore steadily onwards. The foremost, bearing the red cross of Genoa emblazoned upon its lofty stern, led the forlorn procession, a Spaniard being second, while in the rear floundered a French vessel, one of the famous fleet of Sluys, her sides, like those of her consorts, bristling with English arrows.

Soon the leading vessel, ill-judging her distance, turned towards the Solent, hoisting her huge sail, on which flamed the arms of Luigi Spinola. Shouts of anger and disappointment rose from the English as they saw the sail drawing, and the hated Genoese cleaving through the water with increased speed. But their cries quickly turned into a roar of delight as the galley ran hard and fast upon the treacherous and unseen mud-bank, her mast going by the board with a resounding crash!

In spite of the frantic efforts of the rowers, the crew were unable to back the long, snake-like hull from the deadly embrace of the mud, and with the fast falling tide it was evident that the galley was doomed to capture.

Taking warning from their consort's misfortune, the other vessels gave her a wide berth, and, avoiding the mud spit, turned south-eastward. The Spaniard hoisted her sail with all speed, the white foam flying from her sharp bows; but the French galley, having had her halliards cut through by a chance bolt, was soon overhauled by the Southampton ships.

In less than five minutes she was boarded on both quarters and carried, the Frenchmen being either slain or driven overboard, and the watchers on sh.o.r.e beheld the Cross of St. George hoisted over the Fleur-de-Lys. A fanfare of trumpets from the conquering vessels announced that the English mariners had again proved themselves worthy of their traditions.

The prize and three of the English ships anch.o.r.ed to await a favourable tide to bear them back to the town of Southampton, while the two remaining vessels stood towards the stranded galley of Genoa.

The tide had now left her high and dry, with a slight list towards the sea, at two hundred paces from the nearest sh.o.r.e. The deep-draughted English ships could not approach within that distance, so they were compelled to cast anchor within easy bow-shot.

Under the terrible cross-fire the galley remained, her crew seeking shelter from the shower of arrows, not daring to show so much as a hair above the low bulwarks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BOARDING THE GENOESE GALLEY]

"By our Lady! The rogues lie close," exclaimed the Constable. "'Tis but a waste of good arrows. And yet we must have at them ere long, for already the sun is low in the heavens."

"Once darkness falls they will, of a surety, escape, for with the next tide they can make across the shallows, where our ships dare not follow," replied the Bailiff.

"If I mistake not, they left a mangonel behind them----"