Sir Nigel

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  XX. HOW THE ENGLISH ATTEMPTED THE CASTLE OF LA BROHINIERE

  For some minutes Nigel remained motionless upon the crest of the hill,his heart, like lead within him, and his eyes fixed upon the hugegray walls which contained his unhappy henchman. He was roused by asympathetic hand upon his shoulder and the voice of his young prisonerin his ear.

  "Peste!" said he. "They have some of your birds in their cage, have theynot? What then, my friend? Keep your heart high! Is it not the chanceof war, to-day to them, to-morrow to thee, and death at last for us all?And yet I had rather they were in any hands than those of Oliver theButcher."

  "By Saint Paul, we cannot suffer it!" cried Nigel distractedly. "Thisman has come with me from my own home. He has stood between me and deathbefore now. It goes to my very heart that he should call upon me invain. I pray you, Raoul, to use your wits, for mine are all curdled inmy head. Tell me what I should do and how I may bring him help."

  The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "As easy to get a lamb unscathedout of a wolves' lair as a prisoner safe from La Brohiniere. Nay, Nigel,whither do you go? Have you indeed taken leave of your wits?"

  The Squire had spurred his horse down the hillside and never halteduntil he was within a bowshot of the gate. The French prisoner followedhard behind him, with a buzz of reproaches and expostulations.

  "You are mad, Nigel!" he cried. "What do you hope to do then? Would youcarry the castle with your own hands? Halt, man, halt, in the name ofthe Virgin!"

  But Nigel had no plan in his head and only obeyed the fevered impulseto do something to ease his thoughts. He paced his horse up and down,waving his spear, and shouting insults and challenges to the garrison.Over the high wall a hundred jeering faces looked down upon him. Sorash and wild was his action that it seemed to those within to mean sometrap, so the drawbridge was still held high and none ventured forth toseize him. A few long-range arrows pattered on the rocks, and then witha deep booming sound a huge stone, hurled from a mangonel, sang over thehead of the two Squires and crushed into splinters amongst the bouldersbehind them. The Frenchman seized Nigel's bridle and forced him fartherfrom the gateway.

  "By the dear Virgin!" he cried, "I care not to have those pebbles aboutmy ears, yet I cannot go back alone, so it is very clear, my crazycomrade, that you must come also. Now we are beyond their reach! Butsee, my friend Nigel, who are those who crown the height?"

  The sun had sunk behind the western ridge, but the glowing sky wasfringed at its lower edge by a score of ruddy twinkling points. A bodyof horsemen showed hard and black upon the bare hill. Then they dippeddown the slope into the valley, whilst a band of footmen followedbehind.

  "They are my people," cried Nigel joyously. "Come, my friend, hasten,that we may take counsel what we shall do."

  Sir Robert Knolles rode a bowshot in front of his men, and his browwas as black as night. Beside him, with crestfallen face, his horsebleeding, his armor dinted and soiled, was the hot-headed knight, SirJames Astley. A fierce discussion raged between them.

  "I have done my devoir as best I might," said Astley. "Alone I had tenof them at my sword-point. I know not how I have lived to tell it."

  "What is your devoir to me? Where are my thirty bowmen?" cried Knollesin bitter wrath. "Ten lie dead upon the ground and twenty are worse thandead in yonder castle. And all because you must needs show all men howbold you are, and ride into a bushment such as a child could see. Alasfor my own folly that ever I should have trusted such a one as you withthe handling of men!"

  "By God, Sir Robert, you shall answer to me for those words!" criedAstley with a choking voice. "Never has a man dared to speak to me asyou have done this day."

  "As long as I hold the King's order I shall be master, and by the Lord Iwill hang you, James, on a near tree if I have further cause of offense!How now, Nigel? I see by yonder white horse that you at least have notfailed me. I will speak with you anon. Percy, bring up your men, and letus gather round this castle, for, as I hope for my soul's salvation, Iwin not leave it until I have my archers, or the head of him who holdsthem."

  That night the English lay thick round the fortress of La Brohiniere sothat none might come forth from it. But if none could come forth it washard to see how any could win their way in, for it was full of men, thewalls were high and strong, and a deep dry ditch girt it round. But thehatred and fear which its master had raised over the whole country-sidecould now be plainly seen, for during the night the brushwood men andthe villagers came in from all parts with offers of such help as theycould give for the intaking of the castle. Knolles set them cuttingbushes and tying them into fagots. When morning came he rode out beforethe wall and he held counsel with his knights and squires as to how heshould enter in.

  "By noon," said he, "we shall have so many fagots that we may makeour way over the ditch. Then we will beat in the gates and so win afooting."

  The young Frenchman had come with Nigel to the conference, and now, amidthe silence which followed the leader's proposal, he asked if he mightbe heard. He was clad in the brazen armor which Nigel had taken from theRed Ferret.

  "It may be that it is not for me to join in your counsel," said he,"seeing that I am a prisoner and a Frenchman. But this man is the enemyof all, and we of France owe him a debt even as you do, since many agood Frenchman has died in his cellars. For this reason I crave to beheard."

  "We will hear you," said Knolles.

  "I have come from Evran yesterday," said he. "Sir Henry Spinnefort, SirPeter La Roye and many other brave knights and squires lie there, witha good company of men, all of whom would very gladly join with you todestroy this butcher and his castle, for it is well known amongst usthat his deeds are neither good nor fair. There are also bombards whichwe could drag over the hills, and so beat down this iron gate. If you soorder it I will ride to Evran and bring my companions back with me."

  "Indeed, Robert," said Percy, "it is in my mind that this Frenchmanspeaks very wisely and well."

  "And when we have taken the castle--what then?" asked Knolles.

  "Then you could go upon your way, fair sir, and we upon ours. Or if itplease you better you could draw together on yonder hill and we on thisone, so that the valley lies between us. Then if any cavalier wished toadvance himself or to shed a vow and exalt his lady, an opening mightbe found for him. Surely it would be shame if so many brave men drewtogether and no small deed were to come of it."

  Nigel clasped his captive's hand to show his admiration and esteem, butKnolles shook his head.

  "Things are not ordered thus, save in the tales of the minstrels," saidhe. "I have no wish that your people at Evran should know our numbers orour plans. I am not in this land for knight errantry, but I am here tomake head against the King's enemies. Has no one aught else to say?"

  Percy pointed to the small outlying fortalice upon the knoll, on whichalso flew the flag of the bloody head. "This smaller castle, Robert, isof no great strength and cannot hold more than fifty men. It is built,as I conceive it, that no one should seize the high ground and shootdown into the other. Why should we not turn all our strength upon it,since it is the weaker of the twain?"

  But again the young leader shook his head. "If I should take it," saidhe, "I am still no nearer to my desire, nor will it avail me in gettingback my bowmen. It may cost a score of men, and what profit shall I havefrom it? Had I bombards, I might place them on yonder hill, but havingnone it is of little use to me."

  "It may be," said Nigel, "that they have scant food or water, and somust come forth to fight us."

  "I have made inquiry of the peasants," Knolles answered, "and they areof one mind that there is a well within the castle, and good store offood. Nay, gentlemen, there is no way before us save to take it by arms,and no spot where we can attempt it save through the great gate. Soon wewill have so many fagots that we can cast them down into the ditch, andso win our way across. I have ordered them to cut a pine-tree on thehill and shear the branches so that we may beat down the gate with it.But what is now
amiss, and why do they run forward to the castle?"

  A buzz had risen from the soldiers in the camp, and they all crowded inone direction, rushing toward the castle wall. The knights and squiresrode after them, and when in view of the main gate, the cause of thedisturbance lay before them. On the tower above the portal three menwere standing in the garb of English archers, ropes round their necksand their hands bound behind them. Their comrades surged below them withcries of recognition and of pity.

  "It is Ambrose!" cried one. "Surely it is Ambrose of Ingleton."

  "Yes, in truth, I see his yellow hair. And the other, him with thebeard, it is Lockwood of Skipton. Alas for his wife who keeps the boothby the bridge-head of Ribble! I wot not who the third may be."

  "It is little Johnny Alspaye, the youngest man in the company," criedold Wat, with the tears running down his cheeks, "'Twas I who broughthim from his home. Alas! Alas! Foul fare the day that ever I coaxed himfrom his mother's side that he might perish in a far land."

  There was a sudden flourish of a trumpet and the drawbridge fell. Acrossit strode a portly man with a faded herald's coat. He halted warily uponthe farther side and his voice boomed like a drum. "I would speak withyour leader." he cried.

  Knolles rode forward.

  "Have I your knightly word that I may advance unscathed with allcourteous entreaty as befits a herald?"

  Knolles nodded his head.

  The man came slowly and pompously forward. "I am the messenger and liegeservant," said he, "of the high baron, Oliver de St. Yvon, Lord of LaBrohiniere. He bids me to say that if you continue your journey andmolest him no further he will engage upon his part to make no furtherattack upon you. As to the men whom he holds, he will enroll them in hisown honorable service, for he has need of longbowmen, and has heardmuch of their skill. But if you constrain him or cause him furtherdispleasure by remaining before his castle he hereby gives you warningthat he will hang these three men over his gateway and every morninganother three until all have been slain. This he has sworn upon the roodof Calvary, and as he has said so he will do upon jeopardy of his soul."

  Robert Knolles looked grimly at the messenger. "You may thank the saintsthat you have had my promise," said he, "else would I have stripped thatlying tabard from thy back and the skin beneath it from thy bones, thatthy master might have a fitting answer to his message. Tell him that Ihold him and all that are within his castle as hostage for the lives ofmy men, and that should he dare to do them scathe he and every man thatis with him shall hang upon his battlements. Go, and go quickly, lest mypatience fail."

  There was that in Knolles' cold gray eyes and in his manner of speakingthose last words which sent the portly envoy back at a quicker gaitthan he had come. As he vanished into the gloomy arch of the gateway thedrawbridge swung up with creak and rattle behind him.

  A few minutes later a rough-bearded fellow stepped out over the portalwhere the condemned archers stood and seizing the first by the shouldershe thrust him over the wall. A cry burst from the man's lips and a deepgroan from those of his comrades below as he fell with a jerk whichsent him half-way up to the parapet again, and then after dancing likea child's toy swung slowly backward and forward with limp limbs andtwisted neck.

  The hangman turned and bowed in mock reverence to the spectators beneathhim. He had not yet learned in a land of puny archers how sure and howstrong is the English bow. Half a dozen men, old Wat amongst them, hadrun forward toward the wall. They were too late to save their comrades,but at least their deaths were speedily avenged.

  The man was in the act of pushing off the second prisoner when an arrowcrashed through his head, and he fell stone dead upon the parapet. Buteven in falling he had given the fatal thrust and a second russet figureswung beside the first against the dark background of the castle wall.

  There only remained the young lad, Johnny Alspaye, who stood shakingwith fear, an abyss below him, and the voices of those who would hurlhim over it behind. There was a long pause before anyone would comeforth to dare those deadly arrows. Then a fellow, crouching double, ranforward from the shelter, keeping the young archer's body as a shieldbetween him and danger.

  "Aside, John! Aside!" cried his comrades from below.

  The youth sprang as far as the rope would allow him, and slipped it halfover his face in the effort. Three arrows flashed past his side, andtwo of them buried themselves in the body of the man behind. A howl ofdelight burst from the spectators as he dropped first upon his knees andthen upon his face. A life for a life was no bad bargain.

  But it was only a short respite which the skill of his comrades hadgiven to the young archer. Over the parapet there appeared a ball ofbrass, then a pair of great brazen shoulders, and lastly the full figureof an armored man. He walked to the edge and they heard his hoarseguffaw of laughter as the arrows clanged and clattered against hisimpenetrable mail. He slapped his breast-plate, as he jeered at them.Well he knew that at the distance no dart ever sped by mortal handscould cleave through his plates of metal. So he stood, the great burlyButcher of La Brohiniere, with head uptossed, laughing insolently athis foes. Then with slow and ponderous tread he walked toward his boyvictim, seized him by the ear, and dragged him across so that the ropemight be straight. Seeing that the noose had slipped across the face,he tried to push it down, but the mail glove hampering him he pulled itoff, and grasped the rope above the lad's head with his naked hand.

  Quick as a flash old Wat's arrow had sped, and the Butcher sprang backwith a howl of pain, his hand skewered by a cloth-yard shaft. As heshook it furiously at his enemies a second grazed his knuckles. Witha brutal kick of his metal-shod feet he hurled young Alspaye over theedge, looked down for a few moments at his death agonies, and thenwalked slowly from the parapet, nursing his dripping hand, the arrowsstill ringing loudly upon his back-piece as he went.

  The archers below, enraged at the death of their comrades, leaped andhowled like a pack of ravening wolves.

  "By Saint Dunstan," said Percy, looking round at their flushed faces,"if ever we are to carry it now is the moment, for these men will not bestopped if hate can take them forward."

  "You are right, Thomas!" cried Knolles. "Gather together twentymen-at-arms each with his shield to cover him. Astley, do you place thebowmen so that no head may show at window or parapet. Nigel, I pray youto order the countryfolk forward with their fardels of fagots. Let theothers bring up the lopped pine-tree which lies yonder behind the horselines. Ten men-at-arms can bear it on the right, and ten on the left,having shields over their heads. The gate once down, let every man rushin. And God help the better cause!"

  Swiftly and yet quietly the dispositions were made, for these were oldsoldiers whose daily trade was war. In little groups the archers formedin front of each slit or crevice in the walls, whilst others scannedthe battlements with wary eyes, and sped an arrow at every face whichgleamed for an instant above them. The garrison shot forth a shower ofcrossbow bolts and an occasional stone from their engine, but so deadlywas the hail which rained upon them that they had no time to dwell upontheir aim, and their discharges were wild and harmless. Under cover ofthe shafts of the bowmen a line of peasants ran unscathed to the edgeof the ditch, each hurling in the bundle which he bore in his arms, andthen hurrying back for another one. In twenty minutes a broad pathwayof fagots lay level with the ground upon one side and the gate uponthe other. With the loss of two peasants slain by bolts and one archercrushed by a stone, the ditch had been filled up. All was ready for thebattering-ram.

  With a shout, twenty picked men rushed forward with the pine-tree undertheir arms, the heavy end turned toward the gate. The arbalesters on thetower leaned over and shot into the midst of them, but could not stoptheir advance. Two dropped, but the others raising their shields ranonward still shouting, crossed the bridge of fagots, and came with athundering crash against the door. It splintered from base to arch, butkept its place.

  Swinging their mighty weapon, the storming party thudded and crashedupon the gate, every
blow loosening and widening the cracks which rentit from end to end. The three knights, with Nigel, the Frenchman Raouland the other squires, stood beside the ram, cheering on the men, andchanting to the rhythm of the swing with a loud "Ha!" at every blow. Agreat stone loosened from the parapet roared through the air andstruck Sir James Astley and another of the attackers, but Nigel and theFrenchman had taken their places in an instant, and the ram thudded andsmashed with greater energy than ever. Another blow and another! thelower part was staving inward, but the great central bar still heldfirm. Surely another minute would beat it from its sockets.

  But suddenly from above there came a great deluge of liquid. A hogsheadof it had been tilted from the battlement until soldiers, bridge, andram were equally drenched in yellow slime. Knolles rubbed his gauntletin it, held it to his visor, and smelled it.

  "Back, back!" he cried. "Back before it is too late!"

  There was a small barred window above their heads at the side of thegate. A ruddy glare shone through it, and then a blazing torch wastossed down upon them. In a moment the oil had caught and the wholeplace was a sheet of flame. The fir-tree that they carried, the fagotsbeneath them, their very weapons, were all in a blaze.

  To right and left the men sprang down into the dry ditch, rolling withscreams upon the ground in their endeavor to extinguish the flames. Theknights and squires protected by their armor strove hard, stampingand slapping, to help those who had but leather jacks to shield theirbodies. From above a ceaseless shower of darts and of stones werepoured down upon them, while on the other hand the archers, seeing thegreatness of the danger, ran up to the edge of the ditch, and shot fastand true at every face which showed above the wall.

  Scorched, wearied and bedraggled, the remains of the storming partyclambered out of the ditch as best they could, clutching at the friendlyhands held down to them, and so limped their way back amid the tauntsand howls of their enemies. A long pile of smoldering cinders wasall that remained of their bridge, and on it lay Astley and six otherred-hot men glowing in their armor.

  Knolles clinched his hands as he looked back at the ruin that waswrought, and then surveyed the group of men who stood or lay around himnursing their burned limbs and scowling up at the exultant figures whowaved on the castle wall. Badly scorched himself, the young leader hadno thought for his own injuries in the rage and grief which rackedhis soul. "We will build another bridge," he cried. "Set the peasantsbinding fagots once more."

  But a thought had flashed through Nigel's mind. "See, fair sir," saidhe. "The nails of yonder door are red-hot and the wood as white asashes. Surely we can break our way through it."

  "By the Virgin, you speak truly!" cried the French Squire. "If we cancross the ditch the gate will not stop us. Come, Nigel, for our fairladies' sakes, I will race you who will reach it first, England orFrance."

  Alas for all the wise words of the good Chandos! Alas for all thelessons in order and discipline learned from the wary Knolles. In aninstant, forgetful of all things but this noble challenge, Nigel wasrunning at the top of his speed for the burning gate. Close at his heelswas the Frenchman, blowing and gasping, as he rushed along in his brazenarmor. Behind came a stream of howling archers and men-at-arms, like aflood which has broken its dam. Down they slipped into the ditch, rushedacross it, and clambered on each other's backs up the opposite side.Nigel, Raoul and two archers gained a foothold in front of the burninggate at the same moment. With blows and kicks they burst it to pieces,and dashed with a yell of triumph through the dark archway beyond. For amoment they thought with mad rapture that the castle was carried. A darktunnel lay before them, down which they rushed. But alas! at the fartherend it was blocked by a second gateway as strong as that which had beenburned. In vain they beat upon it with their swords and axes. Oneach side the tunnel was pierced with slits, and the crossbow boltsdischarged at only a few yards' distance crashed through armor as if itwere cloth and laid man after man upon the stones. They raged and leapedbefore the great iron-clamped barrier, but the wall itself was as easyto tear down.

  It was bitter to draw back; but it was madness to remain. Nigel lookedround and saw that half his men were down. At the same moment Raoul sankwith a gasp at his feet, a bolt driven to its socket through the linksof the camail which guarded his neck. Some of the archers, seeing thatcertain death awaited them, were already running back to escape from thefatal passage.

  "By Saint Paul!" cried Nigel hotly. "Would you leave our wounded wherethis butcher may lay his hands upon them? Let the archers shoot inwardsand hold them back from the slits. Now let each man raise one of ourcomrades, lest we leave our honor in the gate of this castle."

  With a mighty effort he had raised Raoul upon his shoulders andstaggered with him to the edge of the ditch. Several men were waitingbelow where the steep bank shield them from the arrows, and to themNigel handed down his wounded friend, and each archer in turn did thesame. Again and again Nigel went back until no one lay in the tunnelsave seven who had died there. Thirteen wounded were laid in the shelterof the ditch, and there they must remain until night came to cover them.Meanwhile the bowmen on the farther side protected them from attack, andalso prevented the enemy from all attempts to build up the outer gate.The gaping smoke-blackened arch was all that they could show for a lossof thirty men, but that at least Knolles was determined to keep.

  Burned and bruised, but unconscious of either pain or fatigue for theturmoil of his spirit within him, Nigel knelt by the Frenchman andloosened his helmet. The girlish face of the young Squire was white aschalk, and the haze of death was gathering over his violet eyes, buta faint smile played round his lips as he looked up at his Englishcomrade.

  "I shall never see Beatrice again," he whispered. "I pray you, Nigel,that when there is a truce you will journey as far as my father'schateau and tell him how his son died. Young Gaston will rejoice, forto him come the land and the coat, the war-cry and the profit. See them,Nigel, and tell them that I was as forward as the others."

  "Indeed Raoul, no man could have carried himself with more honor or wonmore worship than you have done this day. I will do your behest when thetime comes."

  "Surely you are happy, Nigel," the dying Squire murmured, "for thisday has given you one more deed which you may lay at the feet of yourlady-love."

  "It might have been so had we carried the gate," Nigel answered sadly;"but by Saint Paul! I cannot count it a deed where I have come back withmy purpose unfulfilled. But this is no time, Raoul, to talk of mysmall affairs. If we take the castle and I bear a good part in it, thenperchance all this may indeed avail."

  The Frenchman sat up with that strange energy which comes often as theharbinger of death. "You will win your Lady Mary, Nigel, and your greatdeeds will be not three but a score, so that in all Christendom thereshall be no man of blood and coat-armor who has not heard your name andyour fame. This I tell you--I, Raoul de la Roche Pierre de Bras, dyingupon the field of honor. And now kiss me, sweet friend, and lay me back,for the mists close round me and I am gone!"

  With tender hands the Squire lowered his comrade's head, but even as hedid so there came a choking rush of blood, and the soul had passed. Sodied a gallant cavalier of France, and Nigel as he knelt in the ditchbeside him prayed that his own end might be as noble and as debonair.

  XXI. HOW THE SECOND MESSENGER WENT TO COSFORD