UNDER the guidance of the French squire the party passed down twonarrow corridors. The first was empty, but at the head of thesecond stood a peasant sentry, who started off at the sight ofthem, yelling loudly to his comrades. "Stop him, or we areundone!" cried Du Guesclin, and had started to run, whenAylward's great war-bow twanged like a harp-string, and the manfell forward upon his face, with twitching limbs and clutchingfingers. Within five paces of where he lay a narrow and little-used door led out into the bailey. From beyond it came such aBabel of hooting and screaming, horrible oaths and yet morehorrible laughter, that the stoutest heart might have shrunk fromcasting down the frail barrier which faced them.

"Make straight for the keep!" said Du Guesclin, in a sharp, sternwhisper. "The two archers in front, the lady in the centre, asquire on either side, while we three knights shall bide behindand beat back those who press upon us. So! Now open the door,and God have us in his holy keeping!"

For a few moments it seemed that their object would be attainedwithout danger, so swift and so silent had been their movements.They were half-way across the bailey ere the frantic, howlingpeasants made a movement to stop them. The few who threwthemselves in their way were overpowered or brushed aside, whilethe pursuers were beaten back by the ready weapons of the threecavaliers. Unscathed they fought their way to the door of thekeep, and faced round upon the swarming mob, while the squirethrust the great key into the lock.

"My God!" he cried, "it is the wrong key."

"The wrong key!"

"Dolt, fool that I am! This is the key of the castle gate; theother opens the keep. I must back for it!" He turned, with somewild intention of retracing his steps, but at the instant a greatjagged rock, hurled by a brawny peasant, struck him full upon theear, and he dropped senseless to the ground.

"This is key enough for me!" quoth Hordle John, picking up thehuge stone, and hurling it against the door with all the strengthof his enormous body. The lock shivered, the wood smashed, thestone flew into five pieces, but the iron clamps still held thedoor in its position. Bending down, he thrust his great fingersunder it, and with a heave raised the whole mass of wood and ironfrom its hinges. For a moment it tottered and swayed, and then,falling outward, buried him in its ruin, while his comradesrushed into the dark archway which led to safety.

"Up the steps, Tiphaine!" cried Du Guesclin. "Now round,friends, and beat them back!" The mob of peasants had surged inupon their heels, but the two trustiest blades in Europe gleamedupon that narrow stair, and four of their number dropped upon thethreshold. The others gave back, and gathered in a half circleround the open door, gnashing their teeth and shaking theirclenched hands at the defenders. The body of the French squirehad been dragged out by them and hacked to pieces, Three or fourothers had pulled John from under the door, when he suddenlybounded to his feet, and clutching one in either hand dashedthem together with such force that they fell senseless acrosseach other upon the ground. With a kick and a blow he freedhimself from two others who clung to him, and in a moment he waswithin the portal with his comrades.

Yet their position was a desperate one. The peasants from farand near had been assembled for this deed of vengeance, and notless than six thousand were within or around the walls of theChateau of Villefranche. Ill armed and half starved, they werestill desperate men, to whom danger had lost all fears: for whatwas death that they should shun it to cling to such a life astheirs? The castle was theirs, and the roaring flames werespurting through the windows and flickering high above theturrets on two sides of the quadrangle. From either side theywere sweeping down from room to room and from bastion to bastionin the direction of the keep. Faced by an army, and girt in byfire, were six men and one woman; but some of them were men sotrained to danger and so wise in war that even now the combat wasless unequal than it seemed. Courage and resource were penned inby desperation and numbers, while the great yellow sheets offlame threw their lurid glare over the scene of death.

"There is but space for two upon a step to give free play to oursword-arms," said Du Guesclin. "Do you stand with me, Nigel,upon the lowest. France and England will fight together thisnight. Sir Otto, I pray you to stand behind us with this youngsquire. The archers may go higher yet and shoot over our heads.I would that we had our harness, Nigel."

"Often have I heard my dear Sir John Chandos say that a knightshould never, even when a guest, be parted from it. Yet it willbe more honor to us if we come well out of it. We have a vantage,since we see them against the light and they can scarce see us.It seems to me that they muster for an onslaught."

"If we can but keep them in play," said the Bohemian, "it islikely that these flames may bring us succor if there be any truemen in the country."

"Bethink you, my fair lord," said Alleyne to Sir Nigel, "that wehave never injured these men, nor have we cause of quarrelagainst them. Would it not be well, if but for the lady's sake,to speak them fair and see if we may not come to honorable termswith them?"

"Not so, by St. Paul!" cried Sir Nigel. "It does not accord withmine honor, nor shall it ever be said that I, a knight ofEngland, was ready to hold parley with men who have slain a fairlady and a holy priest."

"As well hold parley with a pack of ravening wolves," said theFrench captain. "Ha! Notre Dame Du Guesclin! Saint Ives!Saint Ives!"

As he thundered forth his war-cry, the Jacks who had beengathering before the black arch of the gateway rushed in madly ina desperate effort to carry the staircase. Their leaders were asmall man, dark in the face, with his beard done up in twoplaits, and another larger man, very bowed in the shoulders, witha huge club studded with sharp nails in his hand. The first hadnot taken three steps ere an arrow from Aylward's bow struck himfull in the chest, and he fell coughing and spluttering acrossthe threshold. The other rushed onwards, and breaking between DuGuesclin and Sir Nigel he dashed out the brains of the Bohemianwith a single blow of his clumsy weapon. With three swordsthrough him he still struggled on, and had almost won his waythrough them ere he fell dead upon the stair. Close at his heelscame a hundred furious peasants, who flung themselves again andagain against the five swords which confronted them. It was cutand parry and stab as quick as eye could see or hand act. Thedoor was piled with bodies, and the stone floor was slippery withblood. The deep shout of Du Guesclin, the hard, hissing breathof the pressing multitude, the clatter of steel, the thud offalling bodies, and the screams of the stricken, made up such amedley as came often in after years to break upon Alleyne'ssleep. Slowly and sullenly at last the throng drew off, withmany a fierce backward glance, while eleven of their number layhuddled in front of the stair which they had failed to win.

"The dogs have had enough," said Du Guesclin.

"By Saint Paul! there appear to be some very worthy and valiantpersons among them," observed Sir Nigel. "They are men fromwhom, had they been of better birth, much honor and advancementmight be gained. Even as it is, it is a great pleasure to haveseen them. But what is this that they are bringing forward?"

"It is as I feared," growled Du Guesclin. "They will burn usout, since they cannot win their way past us. Shoot straight andhard, archers; for, by St. Ives! our good swords are of littleuse to us."

As he spoke, a dozen men rushed forward, each screening himselfbehind a huge fardel of brushwood. Hurling their burdens in onevast heap within the portal, they threw burning torches upon thetop of it. The wood had been soaked in oil, for in an instant itwas ablaze, and a long, hissing, yellow flame licked over theheads of the defenders, and drove them further up to the firstfloor of the keep. They had scarce reached it, however, ere theyfound that the wooden joists and planks of the flooring werealready on fire. Dry and worm-eaten, a spark upon them became asmoulder, and a smoulder a blaze. A choking smoke filled theair, and the five could scarce grope their way to the staircasewhich led up to the very summit of the square tower.

Strange was the scene which met their eyes from this eminence.Beneath them on every side stretched the long sweep of peacefulcountry, rolling plain, and tangled wood, all softened andmellowed in the silver moonshine. No light, nor movement, norany sign of human aid could be seen, but far away the hoarseclangor of a heavy bell rose and fell upon the wintry air. Be-neath and around them blazed the huge fire, roaring findcrackling on every side of the bailey, and even as they lookedthe two corner turrets fell in with a deafening crash, and thewhole castle was but a shapeless mass, spouting flames and smokefrom every window and embrasure. The great black tower uponwhich they stood rose like a last island of refuge amid this seaof fire but the ominous crackling and roaring below showed thatit would not be long ere it was engulfed also in the common ruin.At their very feet was the square courtyard, crowded with thehowling and dancing peasants, their fierce faces upturned, theirclenched hands waving, all drunk with bloodshed and withvengeance. A yell of execration and a scream of hideous laughterburst from the vast throng, as they saw the faces of the lastsurvivors of their enemies peering down at them from the heightof the keep. They still piled the brushwood round the base ofthe tower, and gambolled hand in hand around the blaze, screamingout the doggerel lines which had long been the watchword of theJacquerie:

Cessez, cessez, gens d'armes et pletons, De piller et manger lebonhomme Qui de longtemps Jacques Bonhomme Se homme.

Their thin, shrill voices rose high above the roar of the flamesand the crash of the masonry, like the yelping of a pack ofwolves who see their quarry before them and know that they havewell-nigh run him down.

"By my hilt!" said Aylward to John, "it is in my mind that weshall not see Spain this journey. It is a great joy to me that Ihave placed my feather-bed and other things of price with thatworthy woman at Lyndhurst, who will now have the use of them. Ihave thirteen arrows yet, and if one of them fly unfleshed, then,by the twang of string! I shall deserve my doom. First at himwho flaunts with my lady's silken frock. Clap in the clout, byGod! though a hand's-breadth lower than I had meant. Now for therogue with the head upon his pike. Ha! to the inch, John. Whenmy eye is true, I am better at rovers than at long-butts orhoyles. A good shoot for you also, John! The villain hathfallen forward into the fire. But I pray you, John, to loosegently, and not to pluck with the drawing-hand, for it is a trickthat hath marred many a fine bowman."

Whilst the two archers were keeping up a brisk fire upon the mobbeneath them, Du Guesclin and his lady were consulting with SirNigel upon their desperate situation.

" 'Tis a strange end for one who has seen so many strickenfields," said the French chieftain. "For me one death is asanother, but it is the thought of my sweet lady which goes to myheart."

"Nay, Bertrand, I fear it as little as you," said she. "Had I mydearest wish, it would be that we should go together."

"Well answered, fair lady!" cried Sir Nigel. "And very sure I amthat my own sweet wife would have said the same. If the end benow come, I have had great good fortune in having lived in timeswhen so much glory was to be won, and in knowing so many valiantgentlemen and knights. But why do you pluck my sleeve, Alleyne?"

"If it please you, my fair lord, there are in this corner twogreat tubes of iron, with many heavy balls, which may perchancebe those bombards and shot of which I have heard."

"By Saint Ives! it is true," cried Sir Bertrand, striding acrossto the recess where the ungainly, funnel-shaped, thick-ribbedengines were standing. "Bombards they are, and of good size. Wemay shoot down upon them."

"Shoot with them, quotha?" cried Aylward in high disdain, forpressing danger is the great leveller of classes. "How is a manto take aim with these fool's toys, and how can he hope to doscath with them?"

"I will show you," answered Sir Nigel; "for here is the great boxof powder, and if you will raise it for me, John, I will show youhow it may be used. Come hither, where the folk are thickestround the fire. Now, Aylward, crane thy neck and see what wouldhave been deemed an old wife's tale when we first turned ourfaces to the wars. Throw back the lid, John, and drop the boxinto the fire!"

A deafening roar, a fluff of bluish light, and the great squaretower rocked and trembled from its very foundations, swaying thisway and that like a reed in the wind. Amazed and dizzy, thedefenders, clutching at the cracking parapets for support, sawgreat stones, burning beams of wood, and mangled bodies hurtlingpast them through the air. When they staggered to their feetonce more, the whole keep had settled down upon one side, so thatthey could scarce keep their footing upon the sloping platform.Gazing over the edge, they looked down upon the horribledestruction which had been caused by the explosion. For fortyyards round the portal the ground was black with writhing,screaming figures, who struggled up and hurled themselves downagain, tossing this way and that, sightless, scorched, with firebursting from their tattered clothing. Beyond this circle ofdeath their comrades, bewildered and amazed, cowered away fromthis black tower and from these invincible men, who were most tobe dreaded when hope was furthest from their hearts.

"A sally, Du Guesclin, a sally!" cried Sir Nigel. "By SaintPaul! they are in two minds, and a bold rush may turn them." Hedrew his sword as he spoke and darted down the winding stairs,closely followed by his four comrades. Ere he was at the firstfloor, however, he threw up his arms and stopped. "Mon Dieu!" hesaid, "we are lost men!"

"What then?" cried those behind him.

"The wail hath fallen in, the stair is blocked, and the firestill rages below. By Saint Paul! friends, we have fought a veryhonorable fight, and may say in all humbleness that we have doneour devoir, but I think that we may now go back to the LadyTiphaine and say our orisons, for we have played our parts inthis world, and it is time that we made ready for another."

The narrow pass was blocked by huge stones littered in wildconfusion over each other, with the blue choking smoke reeking upthrough the crevices. The explosion had blown in the wall andcut off the only path by which they could descend. Pent in, ahundred feet from earth, with a furnace raging under them and aravening multitude all round who thirsted for their blood, itseemed indeed as though no men had ever come through such perilwith their lives. Slowly they made their way back to the summit,but as they came out upon it the Lady Tiphaine darted forward andcaught her husband by the wrist.

"Bertrand," said she, "hush and listen! I have heard the voicesof men all singing together in a strange tongue."

Breathless they stood and silent, but no sound came up to them,save the roar of the flames and the clamor of their enemies.

"It cannot be, lady," said Du Guesclin. "This night hath overwrought you, and your senses play you false. What men ere therein this country who would sing in a strange tongue?"

"Hola!" yelled Aylward, leaping suddenly into the air with wavinghands and joyous face. "I thought I heard it ere we went down,and now I hear it again. We are saved, comrades! By these tenfinger-bones, we are saved! It is the marching song of the WhiteCompany. Hush!"

With upraised forefinger and slanting head, he stood listening.Suddenly there came swelling up a deep-voiced, rollicking chorusfrom somewhere out of the darkness. Never did choice or daintyditty of Provence or Languedoc sound more sweetly in the earsthan did the rough-tongued Saxon to the six who strained theirears from the blazing keep:

We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the landwhere the gray goose flew.

"Ha, by my hilt!" shouted Aylward, "it is the dear old bow songof the Company. Here come two hundred as tight lads as evertwirled a shaft over their thumbnails. Hark to the dogs, howlustily they sing!"

Nearer and clearer, swelling up out of the night, came the gaymarching lilt:

What of the bow? The bow was made in England. Of true wood, ofyew wood, The wood of English bows; For men who are free Lovethe old yew-tree And the land where the yew tree grows.

What of the men? The men were bred in England, The bowmen, theyeomen, The lads of the dale and fell, Here's to you and to you,To the hearts that are true, And the land where the true heartsdwell.

"They sing very joyfully," said Du Guesclin, "as though they weregoing to a festival."

"It is their wont when there is work to be done."

"By Saint Paul!" quoth Sir Nigel, "it is in my mind that theycome too late, for I cannot see how we are to come down from thistower."

"There they come, the hearts of gold!" cried Aylward. "See, theymove out from the shadow, Now they cross the meadow. They are onthe further side of the moat. Hola camarades, hola! Johnston,Eccles, Cooke, Harward, Bligh! Would ye see a fair lady and twogallant knights done foully to death?"

"Who is there?" shouted a deep voice from below. "Who is thiswho speaks with an English tongue?"

"It is I, old lad. It is Sam Aylward of the Company; and here isyour captain, Sir Nigel Loring, and four others, all laid out tobe grilled like an Easterling's herrings."

"Curse me if I did not think that it was the style of speech ofold Samkin Aylward," said the voice, amid a buzz from the ranks."Wherever there are knocks going there is Sammy in the heart ofit. But who are these ill-faced rogues who block the path? Toyour kennels, canaille! What! you dare look us in the eyes? Outswords, lads, and give them the flat of them! Waste not yourshafts upon such runagate knaves."

There was little fight left in the peasants, however, still dazedby the explosion, amazed at their own losses and disheartened bythe arrival of the disciplined archers. In a very few minutesthey were in full flight for their brushwood homes, leaving themorning sun to rise upon a blackened and blood-stained ruin,where it had left the night before the magnificent castle of theSeneschal of Auvergne. Already the white lines in the east weredeepening into pink as the archers gathered round the keep andtook counsel how to rescue the survivors.

"Had we a rope," said Alleyne, "there is one side which is notyet on fire, down which we might slip."

"But how to get a rope?"

"It is an old trick," quoth Aylward. "Hola! Johnston, cast me upa rope, even as you did at Maupertius in the war time."

The grizzled archer thus addressed took several lengths of ropefrom his comrades, and knotting them firmly together, hestretched them out in the long shadow which the rising sun threwfrom the frowning keep. Then he fixed the yew-stave of his bowupon end and measured the long, thin, black line which it threwupon the turf.

"A six-foot stave throws a twelve-foot shadow," he muttered. "Thekeep throws a shadow of sixty paces. Thirty paces of rope willbe enow and to spare. Another strand, Watkin! Now pull at theend that all may be safe. So! It is ready for them.'

"But how are they to reach it?" asked the young archer besidehim.

"Watch and see, young fool's-head," growled the old bowman. Hetook a long string from his pouch and fastened one end to anarrow.

"All ready, Samkin?"

"Ready, camarade."

"Close to your hand then." With an easy pull he sent the shaftflickering gently up, falling upon the stonework within a foot ofwhere Aylward was standing. The other end was secured to therope, so that in a minute a good strong cord was dangling fromthe only sound side of the blazing and shattered tower. The LadyTiphaine was lowered with a noose drawn fast under the arms, andthe other five slid swiftly down, amid the cheers and joyousoutcry of their rescuers.