by David Ker
CHAPTER XVI
The Boldest Deed of All
But even had they seen what was passing so near them, the stoutEnglishmen would hardly have believed their own eyes.
While the pretended soldier was drawing off the attention of those whoguarded the tower, two men, fully armed, had crept, one behind theother, along a deep trench that ran close to it, and worming their waybeneath the huge fabric, had begun to saw in two the props thatsupported it!
If they were detected by the English (as was likely enough) it was, asboth well knew, certain death; but this was the least of their perils,for should the tower give way one second sooner than they hadcalculated, they would be crushed to atoms by its fall. Bolder deed wasnever done by man, and small blame to the brave English yeomen if theyhad no suspicion of an attempt which, even in that age of rash andreckless valour, might well have seemed too daring to be possible.
Slowly and surely the perilous task was done, and the two heroescrawled back through the sheltering trench. But just as they issuedfrom it, they came face to face with an English archer!
"Ha! what means this?" cried the man, starting back. "Who are ye,fellows? Speak or die!"
The sole reply was a blow from the foremost stranger that laid himdead. The other despatched a second man, and a third fell by thepretended man-at-arms with whom he had just been talking.
"Treason!" shouted the fourth. "Up with ye, lads! bows and bills!"
These were the poor fellow's last words, for the next moment saw himlaid beside his slain comrades, while the heroes of this daring ventureleaped upon the horses which their confederate held in readiness, anddashed off at full gallop toward the town. But the alarm had beengiven, and the whole camp swarmed out like a hive of enraged bees.
"Foes! treason!" roared a hundred voices. "Down with 'em, comrades! nomercy to spies!"
But this was easier said than done. Well mounted, and fully armed, thethree broke through their disordered assailants like a spider's web,and more than one stout fellow who thrust himself in their way paiddearly for his rashness.
"Well done, Roland! for a Breton jester, thou hast played right deftlythe part of an English man-at-arms!" said the shorter of the twoknights--a square, thick-set, powerful man in black armour, with ahoarse laugh. "Lucky for us, in sooth, thou hast learned their tongueso well, when captive among the dogs in Picardy. Well, Huon, lad, ourwork is done, and we must ride for it, if we would see another sunrise!"
"THE BLACK KNIGHT TURNED LIKE A HUNTED LION"]
"I care not, since we have saved the town," said his comrade--no otherthan Huon de St. Yvon, the youngest of Du Guesclin's turbulent cousins,now a wiser and better man than when his fierce brothers fell by hisside on Calais causeway, five years before. "Yon accursed tower willnever harm any one more, save the English rogues who handle it."
At that moment, as if to make good his words, came a deafening crashbehind them, and a fearful cry. At the first push that urged theundermined tower toward the walls, it had come thundering down, dashingitself to pieces, and crushing more than a score of the Englishsoldiers.
Taking advantage of the confusion caused by this unlooked-for disaster,the three bold men broke through or rode down all who barred their way,and were already near the gate, when down went Huon in a cloud of dust,horse and man. One of the countless arrows that whizzed around them hadmortally wounded his gallant steed, which fell with its rider, bruisinghim sorely in the fall.
Quick as thought, the black knight sprang from his horse, dragged hisfainting comrade up into the saddle, and bidding Roland ride by thehurt man and support him till he reached the town, turned like a huntedlion on the pursuing English, whirling his mighty axe over his headwith both hands.
Thrice it flashed and fell, and each time fell a man, and the boldestof the English hung back for a moment from the terror of an arm thatseemed to carry certain death. Thick and fast rattled the arrows on hisarmour, but it was the work of a cunning armourer of Milan, and eventhe cloth-yard shafts of Old England smote it in vain.
All at once a commanding voice was heard above the din of the fray--
"Leave him to me, lads; he is a good knight, and I would fain try hismettle myself, body to body."
A tall, fine-looking man of middle age pressed his horse through thethrong of English, who made way for him respectfully, for he was noother than the commander of the besieging army.
"Sir Knight," said he to the black warrior, "it were shame to let sogood a champion be overborne by odds. I will meet thee with equal arms,man to man, and if I overcome thee, thou shalt yield to my mercy, butif thou hast the better, thou shalt pass free, under the knightlypledge of Sir Nicholas Dagworth. Art thou agreed?"
In our day it would greatly amaze every one to see two generals fight aduel on their own account in the midst of a battle, while their menlooked on; but in that age such a thing was an everyday matter.
"Most willingly do I agree, good Sir Nicholas," said the unknown,courteously; "and if it be my hap to be overthrown, I grudge thee notwhat small fame may be won by vanquishing Bertrand du Guesclin."
"Du Guesclin!" echoed Dagworth, as a murmur of mingled wonder andadmiration buzzed along the English ranks. "Then am I more highlyfavoured than I weened. I pray you of your courtesy, fair sir, to letme touch that victorious hand in friendship ere we fall to."
And the two men joined hands in a warm, brotherly clasp, as a fittingpreface to doing their best to cut each other's throats!
Just then the city gate (through which Huon and the warlike jester hadjust passed) poured forth a gallant band of horsemen, led by De Kerimelhimself. But when the rescuers saw what was going on, they drew rein atonce, and looked on in silence, for one of the strictest rules of thatage was never to interfere with a fair fight.
"I presume not to ask thee to fight on foot, noble sir," said DuGuesclin, hesitatingly, "but thou seest I have no horse, and----"
"Nay, if that be all, it is soon mended," cried Sir Nicholas. "Hothere! bring hither quickly my brown destrier" (war-horse).
The steed was brought, Bertrand mounted, and the knights hurtledtogether like contending whirlwinds.
Both spears flew crashing in a thousand splinters, and both steeds werethrown back on their haunches; but the riders kept saddle and stirrup,though it seemed to the lookers-on as if Dagworth, good knight as hewas, had been rudely shaken.
Sir Nicholas took a new lance from his esquire, and Du Guesclin criedto the nearest English man-at-arms--
"Lend me thy lance, good fellow. I promise thee I will not shame it."
"Take it and welcome, good sir," said the stout spearman, heartily;"and wert thou fighting any but an Englishman, I would wish thee goodspeed!"
Bertrand laughed good-humouredly, and, wheeling his horse, dashed athis foe once more.
This time the result was not in doubt for a moment. Du Guesclin reeledin his saddle, and his horse all but fell; but as the dust of the shocksubsided, Sir Nicholas was seen lying motionless on the earth.
Down leaped Du Guesclin, and, taking the fallen man by the hand, saidearnestly--
"How is it with you, noble sir? Woe worth the day, if my ill hap hathmade me harm the best knight I ever faced!"
"Grieve not, fair sir," said the brave Englishman, faintly. "I trow Ishall live to fight another day, though I be sore shaken; but thevictory is thine."
"I pray you, then," cried Bertrand, eagerly, as he raised him from theground and signed to the nearest men to support him, "let me buy of youthis good horse that I have ridden to-day, for better could no man wishat need."
"Take him from me as a free gift, good Sir Bertrand," said his gallantfoe, "and may he ever bear thee as bravely as he hath done this day!"
An hour later Bertrand, having seen the English host sullenly preparingto break up the now hopeless siege, sat in a chamber of the gate-towerbeside his cousin Huon, who was by this time recovering from his fall.
"Bertrand," said
the prostrate man, looking up at him, "thou hast notspared to risk thy life for mine; and yet, for I must needs tell it, Ihave envied thy renown, and would fain have done a deed this day thatshould match even thine!"
"Vex thyself about it no more, lad," said the great soldier, with ablunt kindliness that became him well. "So mean a thing as envy hath noabiding place, I wot, in the heart of a good knight like thee; and solong as a good and knightly deed is done, what matter if it be done bythee or me, or some better man than either? Trust me, cousin, the truehero is not he whose name is most vaunted by men, but he who hathstriven most to do his duty before God."
"And such a hero art thou, Bertrand," said the other, brokenly: "andGod be my witness that I repent me, from my very heart, that I everenvied thee or bare thee ill-will!"