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HOW THE BRUSHWOOD MEN CAME TO THE CHATEAU OF VILLEFRANCHE.
IT was late ere Alleyne Edricson, having carried Sir Nigel the goblet of
spiced wine which it was his custom to drink after the curling of his hair, was
able at last to seek his chamber. It
was a stone-flagged room upon the second floor, with a bed in a recess for him,
and two smaller pallets on the other side, on which Aylward and Hordle John were
already snoring. Alleyne had knelt
down to his evening orisons, when there came a tap at his door, and Ford entered
with a small lamp in his hand. His face was deadly pale, and his hand shook
until the shadows flickered up and down the wall.
"What is it, Ford?" cried Alleyne, springing to his feet.
"I can scarce tell you, said he, sitting down on the side of the
couch, and resting his chin upon his hand.
"I know not what to say or what to think."
"Has aught befallen you, then?"
"Yes, or I have been slave to my own fancy.
I tell you, lad, that I am all undone, like a fretted bow-string.
Hark hither, Alleyne! it cannot be that you have forgotten little Tita,
the daughter of the old glass-stainer at Bordeaux?"
"I remember her well."
"She and I, Alleyne, broke the lucky groat together ere we parted,
and she wears my ring upon her finger. 'Caro
mio,' quoth she when last we parted, 'I shall be near thee in the wars, and thy
danger will be my danger.' Alleyne, as God is my help, as I came up the stairs
this night I saw her stand before me, her face in tears, her hands out as though
in warning--I saw it, Alleyne, even as I see those two archers upon their
couches. Our very finger-tips seemed to meet, ere she thinned away
like a mist in the sunshine."
"I would not give overmuch thought to it," answered Alleyne.
"Our minds will play us strange pranks, and bethink you that these words of
the Lady Tiphaine Du Guesclin have wrought upon us and shaken us."
Ford shook his head. "I
saw little Tita as clearly as though I were back at the Rue des Apotres at
Bordeaux," said he.
"But the hour is late, and I must go."
"Where do you sleep, then?"
"In the chamber above you. May
the saints be with us all!" He
rose from the couch and left the chamber, while Alleyne could hear his feet
sounding upon the winding stair. The
young squire walked across to the window and gazed out at the moonlit landscape,
his mind absorbed by the thought of the Lady Tiphaine, and of the strange words
that she had spoken as to what was going forward at Castle Twynham.
Leaning his elbows upon the stonework, he was deeply plunged in reverie,
when in a moment his thoughts were brought back to Villefranche and to the scene
The window at which he stood was in the second floor of that portion of
the castle which was nearest to the keep. In
front lay the broad moat, with the moon lying upon its surface, now clear and
round, now drawn lengthwise as the breeze stirred the waters.
Beyond, the plain sloped down to a thick wood, while further to the left
a second wood shut out the view. Between
the two an open glade stretched, silvered in the moonshine, with the river
curving across the lower end of it.
As he gazed, he saw of a sudden a man steal forth from the wood into the
open clearing. He walked with his
head sunk, his shoulders curved, and his knees bent, as one who strives hard to
remain unseen. Ten paces from the
fringe of trees he glanced around, and waving his hand he crouched down, and was
lost to sight among a belt of furze-bushes.
After him there came a second man, and after him a third, a fourth, and a
fifth stealing across the narrow open space and darting into the shelter of the
brushwood. Nine-and-seventy Alleyne
counted of these dark figures flitting across the line of the moonlight.
Many bore huge burdens upon their backs, though what it was that they
carried he could not tell at the distance.
Out of the one wood and into the other they passed, all with the same
crouching, furtive gait, until the black bristle of trees had swallowed up the
last of them.
For a moment Alleyne stood in the window, still staring down at the
silent forest, uncertain as to what he should think of these midnight walkers.
Then he bethought him that there was one beside him who was fitter to
judge on such a matter. His fingers
had scarce rested upon Aylward's shoulder ere the bowman was on his feet, with
his hand outstretched to his sword.
"Qui va?" he cried. "Hola!
mon petit. By my hilt! I thought
there had been a camisade. What
then, mon gar.?"
"Come hither by the window, Aylward," said Alleyne.
"I have seen four-score men pass from yonder shaw across the glade,
and nigh every man of them had a great burden on his back.
What think you of it?"
"I think nothing of it, mon camarade!
There are as many masterless folk in this country as there are rabbits on
Cowdray Down, and there are many who show their faces by night but would dance
in a hempen collar if they stirred forth in the day. On all the French marches
are droves of outcasts, reivers, spoilers, and draw-latches, of whom I judge
that these are some, though I marvel that they should dare to come so nigh to
the castle of the seneschal. All
seems very quiet now," he added, peering out of the window.
"They are in the further wood," said Alleyne.
"And there they may bide. Back
to rest, mon petit; for, by my hilt! each day now will bring its own work.
Yet it would be well to shoot the bolt in yonder door when one is in
strange quarters. So!" He threw himself down upon his pallet and in an
instant was fast asleep.
It might have been about three o'clock in the morning when Alleyne was
aroused from a troubled sleep by a low cry or exclamation.
He listened, but, as he heard no more, he set it down as the challenge of
the guard upon the walls, and dropped off to sleep once more.
A few minutes later he was disturbed by a gentle creaking of his own
door, as though some one were pushing cautiously against it, and immediately
afterwards he heard the soft thud of cautious footsteps upon the stair which led
to the room above, followed by a confused noise and a muffled groan.
Alleyne sat up on his couch with all his nerves in a tingle, uncertain
whether these sounds might come from a simple cause--some sick archer and
visiting leech perhaps--or whether they might have a more sinister meaning, But
what danger could threaten them here in this strong castle, under the care of
famous warriors, with high walls and a broad moat around them? Who was there
that could injure them? He had
well-nigh persuaded himself that his fears were a foolish fancy, when his eyes
fell upon that which sent the blood cold to his heart and left him gasping, with
hands clutching at the counterpane.
Right in front of him was the broad window of the chamber, with the moon
shining brightly through it. For an
instant something had obscured the light, and now a head was bobbing up and down
outside, the face looking in at him, and swinging slowly from one side of the
window to the other. Even in that
dim light there could be no mistaking those features.
Drawn, distorted and blood-stained, they were still those of the young
fellow-squire who had sat so recently upon his own couch.
With a cry of horror Alleyne sprang from his bed and rushed to the
casement, while the two archers, aroused by the sound, seized their weapons and
stared about them in bewilderment. One
glance was enough to show Edricson that his fears were but too true.
Foully murdered, with a score of wounds upon him and a rope round his
neck, his poor friend had been cast from the upper window and swung slowly in
the night wind, his body rasping against the wall and his disfigured face upon a
level with the casement.
"My God!" cried Alleyne, shaking in every limb.
"What has come upon us? What
devil's deed is this?"
"Here is flint and steel," said John stolidly.
"The lamp, Aylward! This
moonshine softens a man's heart. Now
we may use the eyes which God hath given us."
"By my hilt!" cried Aylward, as the yellow flame flickered up,
"it is indeed young master Ford, and I think that this seneschal is a black
villain, who dare not face us in the day but would murther us in our sleep.
By the twang of string I if I do not soak a goose's feather with his
heart's blood, it will be no fault of Samkin Aylward of the White Company."
"But, Aylward, think of the men whom I saw yesternight," said
Alleyne. "It may not be the
seneschal. It may be that others
have come into the castle. I must
to Sir Nigel ere it be too late. Let
me go, Aylward, for my place is by his side."
"One moment, mon gar. Put
that steel head-piece on the end of my yew-stave.
So! I will put it first
through the door; for it is ill to come out when you can neither see nor guard
yourself. Now, camarades, out swords and stand ready!
Hola, by my hilt! it is time that we were stirring!"
As he spoke, a sudden shouting broke forth in the castle, with the scream
of a woman and the rush of many feet. Then
came the sharp clink of clashing steel, and a roar like that of an angry
lion--"Notre Dame Du Guesclin! St.
Ives! St. Ives!" The bow-man
pulled back the bolt of the door, and thrust out the headpiece at the end of the
bow. A clash, the clatter of the
steel-cap upon the ground, and, ere the man who struck could heave up for
another blow, the archer had passed his sword through his body. "On,
camarades, on!" he cried; and, breaking fiercely past two men who threw
themselves in his way, he sped down the broad corridor in the direction of the
A sharp turning, and then a second one, brought them to the head of a
short stair, from which they looked straight down upon the scene of the uproar.
A square oak-floored hall lay beneath them, from which opened the doors
of the principal guest-chambers. This hall was as light as day, for torches
burned in numerous sconces upon the walls, throwing strange shadows from the
tusked or antlered heads which ornamented them.
At the very foot of the stair, close to the open door of their chamber,
lay the seneschal and his wife: she with her head shorn from her shoulders, he
thrust through with a sharpened stake, which still protruded from either side of
his body. Three servants of the
castle lay dead beside them, all torn and draggled, as though a pack of wolves
had been upon them. In front of the
central guest-chamber stood Du Guesclin and Sir Nigel, half-clad and unarmored,
with the mad joy of battle gleaming in their eyes.
Their heads were thrown back, their lips compressed, their blood-stained
swords poised over their right shoulders, and their left feet thrown out. Three
dead men lay huddled together in front of them: while a fourth, with the blood
squirting from a severed vessel, lay back with updrawn knees, breathing in
wheezy gasps. Further back--all
panting together, like the wind in a tree--there stood a group of fierce, wild
creatures, bare-armed and bare-legged, gaunt, unshaven, with deep-set murderous
eyes and wild beast faces. With their flashing teeth, their bristling hair,
their mad leapings and screamings, they seemed to Alleyne more like fiends from
the pit than men of flesh and blood. Even
as he looked, they broke into a hoarse yell and dashed once more upon the two
knights, hurling themselves madly upon their sword-points; clutching,
scrambling, biting, tearing, careless of wounds if they could but drag the two
soldiers to earth. Sir Nigel was
thrown down by the sheer weight of them, and Sir Bertrand with his thunderous
war-cry was swinging round his heavy sword to clear a space for him to rise,
when the whistle of two long English arrows, and the rush of the squire and the
two English archers down the stairs, turned the tide of the combat.
The assailants gave back, the knights rushed forward, and in a very few
moments the hall was cleared, and Hordle John had hurled the last of the wild
men down the steep steps which led from the end of it.
"Do not follow them," cried Du Guesclin.
"We are lost if we scatter. For
myself I care not a denier, though it is a poor thing to meet one's end at the
hands of such scum; but I have my dear lady here, who must by no means be
risked. We have breathing-space
now, and I would ask you, Sir Nigel, what it is that you would counsel?"
"By St. Paul!" answered Sir Nigel, "I can by no means
understand what hath befallen us, save that I have been woken up by your
battle-cry, and, rushing forth, found myself in the midst of this small
bickering. Harrow and alas for the
lady and the seneschal! What dogs are they who have done this bloody deed?"
"They are the Jacks, the men of the brushwood.
They have the castle, though I know not how it hath come to pass, Look
from this window into the bailey."
"By heaven!" cried Sir Nigel, "it is as bright as day with
the torches. The gates stand open,
and there are three thousand of them within the walls.
See how they rush and scream and wave! What is it that they thrust out
through the postern door? My God!
it is a man-at-arms, and they pluck him limb from limb like hounds on a
wolf. Now another, and yet another.
They hold the whole castle, for I see their faces at the windows.
See, there are some with great bundles on their backs."
"It is dried wood from the forest.
They pile them against the walls and set them in a blaze.
Who is this who tries to check them?
By St. Ives! it is the good priest who spake for them in the hall.
He kneels, he prays, he implores! What!
villains, would ye raise hands against those who have befriended you?
Ah, the butcher has struck him! He
is down! They stamp him under their feet! They
tear off his gown and wave it in the air! See
now, how the flames lick up the walls! Are there none left to rally round us?
With a hundred men we might hold our own."
"Oh, for my Company!" cried Sir Nigel.
"But where is Ford, Alleyne?"
"He is foully murdered, my fair lord."
"The saints receive him! May
he rest in peace! But here come
some at last who may give us counsel, for amid these passages it is ill to stir
without a guide."
As he spoke, a French squire and the Bohemian knight came rushing down
the steps, the latter bleeding from a slash across his forehead.
"All is lost!" he cried. "The
castle is taken and on fire, the seneschal is slain, and there is nought left
"On the contrary," quoth Sir Nigel, "there is much left to
us, for there is a very honorable contention before us, and a fair lady for whom
to give our lives. There are many
ways in which a man might die, but none better than this."
"You can tell us, Godfrey," said Du Guesclin to the French
squire: "how came these men into the castle, and what succors can we count
upon? By St. Ives!
if we come not quickly to some counsel we shall be burned like young
rooks in a nest."
The squire, a dark, slender stripling, spoke firmly and quickly, as one
who was trained to swift action. "There
is a passage under the earth into the castle," said he, "and through
it some of the Jacks made their way, casting open the gates for the others. They
have had help from within the walls, and the men-at- arms were heavy with wine:
they must have been slain in their beds, for these devils crept from room to
room with soft step and ready knife. Sir
Amory the Hospitaller was struck down with an axe as he rushed before us from
his sleeping-chamber. Save only ourselves, I do not think that there are any
"What, then, would you counsel?"
"That we make for the keep. It
is unused, save in time of war, and the key hangs from my poor lord and master's
"There are two keys there."
"It is the larger. Once
there, we might hold the narrow stair; and at least, as the walls are of a
greater thickness, it would be longer ere they could burn them.
Could we but carry the lady across the bailey, all might be well with
"Nay; the lady hath seen something of the work of war," said
Tiphaine coming forth, as white, as grave, and as unmoved as ever.
"I would not be a hamper to you, my dear spouse and gallant friend. Rest assured of this, that if all else fail I have always a
safeguard here"--drawing a small silver-hilted poniard from her
bosom--"which sets me beyond the fear of these vile and blood-stained
"Tiphaine," cried Du Guesclin, "I have always loved you;
and now, by Our Lady of Rennes! I
love you more than ever. Did I not know that your hand will be as ready as your
words I would myself turn my last blow upon you, ere you should fall into their
hands. Lead on, Godfrey! A new
golden pyx will shine in the minster of Dinan if we come safely through with
The attention of the insurgents had been drawn away from murder to
plunder, and all over the castle might be heard their cries and whoops of
delight as they dragged forth the rich tapestries, the silver flagons, and the
carved furniture. Down in the courtyard half-clad wretches, their bare limbs all
mottled with blood-stains, strutted about with plumed helmets upon their heads,
or with the Lady Rochefort's silken gowns girt round their loins and trailing on
the ground behind them. Casks of choice wine had been rolled out from the
cellars, and starving peasants squatted, goblet in hand, draining off vintages
which De Rochefort had set aside for noble and royal guests. Others, with slabs
of bacon and joints of dried meat upon the ends of their pikes, held them up to
the blaze or tore at them ravenously with their teeth.
Yet all order had not been lost amongst them, for some hundreds of the
better armed stood together in a silent group, leaning upon their rude weapons
and looking up at the fire, which had spread so rapidly as to involve one whole
side of the castle. Already Alleyne could hear the crackling and roaring of the
flames, while the air was heavy with heat and full of the pungent whiff of
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